Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I am so goddamn ready to graduate,” Gladio mumbled to no one in particular, taking another large bite of his apple as his friends nodded their agreement. They all sat around in a half-formed circle, enjoying the last few minutes of their lunch break outside in the warm sun.

“Dude, ain’t that the truth,” Luche drawled, voice partially muffled as he held his chin up with one hand, elbow propped on a bent knee, completely bored out of his mind. “This fucking hellhole of a school is a joke. I think I’ll rot before we get to walk across that fucking stage. I have half a mind to show up drunk just to get through the day.”

Gladio tossed a look over his shoulder, not surprised in the least to see the poor guy’s eyelids appear heavy with exhaustion. Truth be told, Gladio never really liked the guy all that much, but seeing the weariness worn so plainly on his face was like looking in a mirror — Gladio was sure his expression was exactly the same, if not worse. It almost made the douchebag relatable. Almost.  

When Gladio stopped and looked around at his group of friends, taking in the cold and dead looks worn on each and every one of their faces and in their postures, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. They should be ecstatic, but honestly, they were all burnt out and worn down. Guess that was the price to pay when attending the elite preparatory school of Insomnia Academy.

A private, well-established school tucked in the corner of the city of Insomnia, Insomnia Academy was a school well known across the city where the students worked hard but partied harder. There were two types of students that attended — those that got in on scholarship, and those that got in on their parent’s money. The school housed the best and the brightest students of Insomnia, boasting a success rate of their graduates near 100%. Those that graduated from here went on to be the best in their chosen fields — doctors, lawyers, politicians, scientists. Whatever they were, it was a guarantee that they came from Insomnia Academy.

As any student would know, senior year was the year that ushered in the long-held promise of freedom, adulthood, and an end to the hellish four years of grueling exams and teacher’s lectures. No more long nights consisting of homework and endless pots of coffee to keep him awake just an hour longer. No more sleepless nights. No more agonizing over whether or not someone’s top-pick of universities accepted them into their prestigious programs. No more.

Gladio knew he was lucky to be here, but he also wasn’t naive to know he would’ve been accepted without a moment’s hesitation on the school board’s part, regardless of his academic standing amongst his peers. Gladio came from wealth and privilege, a luxury afforded to him by a father who worked alongside the king of Insomnia himself. Coupled with the fact that his name carried a rather weighty legacy with it, Gladio was a shoo-in from the start.

“What are we going to do after we graduate, anyway?” Pelna asked, like it was a question none of them even considered until now. “Just . . . go our separate ways?”

“Oh, fuck off. Don’t go actin’ like we’re all dyin’ or anything. It’s graduation, not the end of the world.” From where Luche was, he easily swung a closed fist around and punched Pelna in the shoulder, earning a soft, “Ow” from him. Another friend, Tredd, sat quietly while playing with the hem of his blazer.

“No, man! I’m serious! Are any of us even staying here? Aren’t you worried about all of us losing contact with each other??”

“I would be so lucky.”

“Dick.”

“Whatever . . . besides, we all know Amicitia will probably hang around. Who else is gonna rake in his daddy’s millions and keep that fucking mansion in check? He doesn’t have to even try if he doesn’t want to; he’s set for life. Living without a care in the world, right Amicitia?” Luche leered, waiting for the inevitable confirmation that Gladio really did have the perfect future laid out for him.

Tugging at the tie around his neck, loosening it so it didn’t feel like it was strangling the goddamn wind out of him, Gladio shifted where he sat. As excited as he should’ve been for his promising future, there was a quiet anxiety lurking in his chest, distorting his thoughts while his heart palpitated, racing and thudding painfully. “Yeah . . . sure. Nothing but smooth sailing after this.”

“Ha, see? That’s what I thought. Probably could fail all your classes right now and you’d still be sittin’ pretty. Must be nice to be you.”

Gladio opened his mouth to respond, but the conversation turned just that quick and he was back to retreating into the solace of his own mind, content to feign interest in what everyone else had to say. Sometimes, it was better that way. Then, they wouldn’t catch on to the real Gladio.

Outwardly, Gladio was a fun, charismatic, very handsome young man. He knew he was Mr. Popular, always the center of attention. There wasn’t a weekend where he wasn’t extended an invite to a party or asked to join his friends for a night out on the town. Sometimes, Gladio went, but it was mainly to keep up appearances.

Lately, things were different. He could feel it deep in his bones. It was an aching loneliness that no amount of friends could possibly fill. A sadness that no amount of alcohol could cure. The world was spinning around him, a dizzying, nauseating ride and he just wanted off.

And, if Gladio had to pinpoint the moment where things took a turn, when his life became an endless cycle of mind-numbing motions, day in and day out, he’d probably pin it right around his mother’s untimely death.

Gladio had been in the car with her, basking in the praises his mother doled out. What a kind, young man he was becoming. How proud she was. Oh, Gladio, you truly are something else.  

Then, the squeal of tires.

The searing pain and gush of blood across his eyesight.

The sickening crunch of metal and steel in ways that metal and steel should never crunch.

Was that him screaming? Who was that crying out for help?

A blur. A whirlwind of terror and fear.

All of it fading to peaceful, black silence.

Gladio didn’t remember too much of what happened that day or the days following, heavily drugged on an IV-administered medicinal cocktail to keep him toeing the line between consciousness and sleep as he healed.

When he finally mustered the courage to look at himself in the mirror, once all the bandages were removed, he saw he had a scar etched down the left side of his face as an eternal reminder of what he lived through . . . and what his mother had not. He fell to the ground, hugging his knees in that small hospital bathroom. Why wasn’t it me? Why did the gods take her? It’s not fair. I can’t do this. Come back, mom. I need you. We need you.

Once she died, the family splintered and Gladio felt it was his duty to hold everything together. There were months where Gladio couldn’t get his father to look him in the eyes after the accident. Hearing the guttural sobs from the master bedroom, when his father thought he was truly alone, churned Gladio’s stomach enough to hurl himself over the toilet, heaving what little he’d eaten that day.  

Clarus, his father, threw himself into work more than ever, leaving the house before the sun came up and returning well after Iris was put to bed and Gladio’s desk lamp was shut off. There were moments where Gladio forgot what his father looked like, only to be equally shocked and bitter that the man looked to have aged several years in his absence. Gladio tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t blame himself, but what else could he do when his own father was so grief-stricken that he avoided his son at all costs?

And Iris . . . poor, sweet Iris. Gladio was always the one to hold his little sister as she screamed for her mommy to come back, rocking her in his strong arms as he tasted the sharp, metallic tang of blood from biting his lower lip too hard.

After the accident, Iris had more nightmares, her screams jolting Gladio from his sleep. He’d bolt down the hallway to her room and cram himself into her tiny princess bed, holding her until she fell back asleep. Only when he deemed it safe to slip away, assured by her even breathing and the steady rise-and-fall of her chest, Gladio would sneak back to his room where he’d curl up with his pillow and wait for his own nightmares to torment him until morning.

For the most part, Gladio was an expert at concealing his emotions, especially when he was around his friends. They had no idea that he laid awake at night, blinking back tears. Not one of them knew that when he said he had errands to run after school, he was really just going to pick his sister up and take care of her after their butler was excused for the night. It probably never even crossed their mind that sometimes, instead of joining them on the weekend at a rager while someone’s parents were gone, Gladio would lose himself in his favorite books — spine worn and cover faded from the millions of rereads he indulged in.

To his friends, he was Gladiolus Amicitia — heir to the Amicitia fortune, handsome, charming, funny, athletic . . . there truly was no shortage of words to describe him. He was practically a walking legend. They would never consider him as Gladiolus Amicitia — motherless, angry, lonely, and, quite frankly, terrified as fuck.

Sometimes, Gladio did so well at putting on a happy face for the world — for his father, his sister, his so-called ‘friends’ — that there were times where he believed it himself that things were fine. The laughter came easy and being around people kept his mind occupied for as long as he was out and about. If he could pretend, then that meant that things really were fine, right? At least, that’s what he’d tell himself — then, the world would come crashing down around him again, the loneliness like an iron vice around his throat, suffocating and all-consuming.

“Amicitia? You there? Helloooo?”

Gladio jumped, tugging at the tie that already hung looser than necessary around his neck. Pelna and Luche both snickered as he frowned, taking another bite of his apple while pretending that he’d been interested in their conversation he’d so obviously zoned out on. When he couldn’t conjure to mind a hint of what they’d talked about, he shrugged. “Yeah? What?”

Crowe, hair thrown up in a messy bun and makeup darker than what the school allowed according to the handbook — Gladio snorted, waiting for the inevitable rant she’d have for them later about how oppressive this school was, how she should be able to express herself however she damn well pleased, and how fucking lame it was she even was made to attend — smirked. “We were talking about how Nyx is throwing a party this weekend. You remember, the guy that graduated last year? It’s supposed to be huge and everyone’s invited. Supposed to be a real good time. You in?”

This weekend . . . this weekend. Gladio froze, trying to remember what it was that he had planned this weekend. His father would be home, but there wasn’t a doubt in Gladio’s mind that he would relegate himself to the study, remaining there until Monday morning when he left again for work. Iris would need someone to watch her, but Gladio vaguely recalled asking Jared to keep an eye on her . . . but why??

Oh, that’s right.

That history exam all about the Solheim War was next week. Gladio knew he’d need all the time he could to study up on it — make flashcards, take notes, highlight his textbook. When it came to his studies, Gladio took his schooling seriously, though he’d sooner throw himself off the top of the Citadel building before ever admitting that to anyone. After all, it wasn’t cool to be smart.

So, he lied.

“I . . . can’t guys. I’d love to, but this weekend my dad wants me to go with him on a business trip to Altissia. A quick weekend thing, but whatever. He’s making me, so I can’t exactly turn him down. Good for my portfolio and all that shit.”

A bird chirped in a tree overhead as Gladio waited for everyone to either a) call him out on his lie, or b) buy it and move on. As he expected, they all grumbled their condolences, ranging from, “Shit man, that sucks,” to, “Jealous . . . I love Altissia.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gladio nodded slowly, making a show of rolling his eyes for added effect. Sure enough, they all went back to chatting excitedly about the party, how drunk and high they expected to be, and the fun they’d have. Gladio watched them all, wondering what they’d say if they knew he really planned to just stay home and study. If Gladio knew them as well as he thought he did, he would say with utmost certainty that they’d throw him out of their circle faster than if he could say, “Chocobo.”

At this point, his life seemed to be one large smattering of lies and a variety of masked emotions, so why stop now? It was definitely better to be on the inside than it was to be an outsider looking in.

The bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of the second half of school for most of the students. A senior assembly meeting had been called earlier that morning — something about their final senior project and what it would entail — and all seniors were to attend right after their lunch break. A collection of sighs and the group of friends shouldered their bags, trekking across the courtyard to the brick building of their school where they’d learn about their assignment.

The senior class settled in the seats of the auditorium, quiet murmurs floating throughout the room. As much fun as senior year promised to be, the dreaded Senior Project was always the final hurdle to get over in order to graduate. It was never anything big, but it always proved to be time-consuming, if prior years were any indication of what to expect. And who really had time to devote to a giant project when there were other things that were far more entertaining to do?

“Students, please? Your attention for only a moment. This won’t take too much of your time,” the Dean announced, ushering in a wave of silence with his words. He smiled before continuing. “As you may very well know, as you’ve seen from your older peers in the past, a project has been assigned year after year since this school’s induction. Every project had been carefully constructed and put together to give our students a chance to reflect on their time here before moving on to better and brighter things.”

He paused, letting this sink in. “This year, the staff and I saw it necessary to emphasize the strength of friendship and the ties we’ve all made with each other. After all, success is more than just intelligence and social standing; it’s the bonds that have been forged and how we connect and relate to one another that gets us through each day.

“And, so, the project this year will consist of you and a partner, chosen at random, writing an essay on each other. You are to get to know this person — if you don’t already — and write about them. Who are they? What do they do for fun? What are their future goals and aspirations? Their hopes and dreams? Do they have a favorite food, or color, or animal? Also, maybe some self-reflection; what did you learn about yourself? Did you learn anything about yourself?”

Gladio heard the whispering beside him as his friends moaned and groaned about the project. It would’ve been one thing to choose who to work with, but it was another monster entirely with having to be randomly paired with someone. Anyone .

Ugh. The nerve.

The Dean brought order back to the auditorium. “With that said, later this afternoon you all will receive an email with the name of your randomly assigned peer. I urge you all to get to work as soon as possible and to not leave this to the last minute. Students of years past can attest to the fact that waiting until the last week, or the night of as some chose to do, does not bode well for yourself, your grade, or your academic ranking amongst your classmates. Your teachers and myself can, and will , be able to tell who put thought and effort into this and who did not.”

He scanned the room and seemed to, somehow, make eye contact with each and every individual student sitting there before him. The Dean was a nice man, but he always meant business. Gladio had his fair share of talks with him and knew the man cared deeply about the success of his students. If he wanted everyone to take this seriously, he meant it .

With the wave of his hand and the nod of his head, everyone was dismissed, free to head to their next classes. Gladio and his friends filed out together, their group walking down the hall in a line, taking up a majority of the walking space. Tredd groaned. “This is so stupid . Why couldn’t we just get something like . . . I dunno. A paper on Insomnia’s past? Or what we want to be when we grow up? Group projects are the fucking worst .”

“Right? And what if this person we get paired with is lazy? Or doesn’t write their essay? Do we get penalized for it?” Crowe complained.

Gladio shrugged. “I don’t care, so long as I don’t get paired with someone like—”

Before he could finish his sentence, as the group rounded a corner, someone smacked right into him and fell backward, papers falling and splaying every which way. The suddenness of the scenario almost caused Gladio to see stars. It all happened so fast. He blinked, stunned, and looked down at the person on the floor as his friends already began to snicker.

There, just as stunned, sat Ignis Scientia — quite possibly the most boring kid to attend Insomnia Academy. Gladio always hated the guy, getting the sense that he felt he was better than him . . . or anyone, really, at the school. He was a whole year younger than everyone else in the senior class, having skipped a grade due to his insane intellect. Freakishly smart, excellent at everything he did (literally everything ), his uniform all starch and crisp lines with his tie always just right , Gladio wondered if Ignis was even human, or just a super-sophisticated MT imported straight from Niflheim.

“Watch where you’re going, Scientia,” Gladio hissed, kicking at a paper that landed on the toe of his shoe.

Ignis scowled from where he still sat on the floor and adjusted his glasses, askew from the collision. “Far be it from me to alert you of my offending presence around each and every corner of this institution.” He hunched forward, scrambling to pick up his papers before they were trampled on any more than they were now.

“Ever thought about cleaning your glasses? Or getting a better pair? It ain’t like I’m the one running into people because I’m not paying attention to the world around me,” Gladio retorted, not bothering to help Ignis as he struggled to snatch up the papers. It wasn’t like anyone else was in a hurry to help him, either, and Gladio used that excuse to keep the notion of guilt at bay.

When the final paper was stacked into Ignis’ arms, he stood up — all poise and grace as if nothing had happened —  with the same scowl as before still on his face. It was only then that Gladio looked down at him, a full head shorter than he was, and stopped, breath catching in his throat.

It was the first time that Gladio noticed how green Ignis’ eyes were behind those Astrals-forsaken glasses of his. A viridescent color, unlike anything Gladio’d ever seen before, hardened and intense, with a fury burning in them that was no doubt aimed at Gladio himself. It was a gaze that almost made Gladio feel small. Insignificant. Nothing more than a tiny speck in the world of Eos.

A lot coming from the tallest guy in school, standing at a whopping 6’6”.

Ignis straightened his back, standing tall and proud in the face of Gladio and his friends. “Says the man who can’t be bothered to see the world outside his own insulated bubble of fun and frivolity.” He sucked in a short, deep breath and adjusted his glasses once more. Those same green eyes Gladio just quietly admired gave him the once-over from head to toe, full of judgment and disdain. “Excuse me.”

Gladio growled as Ignis bumped his shoulder into Gladio’s arm, strutting down the hall and disappearing into the already-waning crowd of students. He brought a hand to where Ignis made contact with his arm, a tingling feeling that wouldn’t go away, unaware his friends were walking ahead without him.

“Asshole,” Gladio hissed under his breath, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder as he yelled for his friends to wait for him.

Gladio sat in his car in the parking lot of Iris’ dance studio, waiting for her lessons to end so he could take her home. With the window open and his elbow resting comfortably on the windowsill of the car door, Gladio tried to bide his time by reading a book he kept in his bag at all times.

It was easy to lose himself in stories of valiant warriors, epic battles, and heart-wrenching romances, but this time the words failed to stick with him. An entire page or two would go by before he realized that he’d missed what happened, doubling back to reread the pages again. And again. And again. And again.

He wanted to read, but his mind was elsewhere.

Fucking Ignis.

Something about the way he glared daggers at him in that hall left Gladio haunted, like the guy managed to look straight into his soul. Intimidation wasn’t something Gladio was familiar with, but it was the only way to describe how Ignis made him feel in that hallway once he’d gotten his wits about him — intimidated and vulnerable as hell.

And what the fuck did he even mean when he said that Gladio couldn’t be bothered to see the world outside of his own insulated bubble? What the fuck did he know? Nothing, that’s what. Ignis knew absolutely nothing about Gladio or his life.

Whatever, he thought. Ignis could think whatever he wanted about Gladio, but he was still a stuffy, boring, lame, nerd who wouldn’t know fun if it hit him upside the head. Gladio couldn’t even count how many times he and his friends ragged on Ignis, calling him every name under the sun and laughing until they cried.

As much as he hated to admit it, Gladio always felt bad when talk turned to Ignis, but he found himself sucked in right along with the rest of them when the shit-talking began. It gave him a sick sense of happiness to knock Ignis down a few pegs, regardless of if it was just amongst him and his group and not right to his face. Someone had to.

Arrogant, pompous, know-it-all.

Maybe if Ignis managed to, one day, pull the stick out of his ass, then Gladio would try to talk to him. Maybe. Possibly.

No, not a chance. Gladio could never be friends with someone like Ignis.

Sighing, Gladio acquiesced to his short attention span, as far as reading was concerned, and bookmarked his page before tossing the book into the passenger’s seat. A gentle breeze flowed through, giving him a slight reprieve from the heat of the searing sun beating down on his car. Gods, shouldn’t Iris be done with her lesson by now?

As Gladio debated going into the building to see what the hold-up was, his phone vibrated, signaling an incoming . . . something. It could’ve been a text, a notification on the game he recently downloaded, his social media alerts . . . anything, really. However, it never occurred to him to think it was an email on his school account. So, when he clicked the button to wake the phone screen up, he cocked his head to the side and clicked into his mailbox.

 

To : [email protected]

From : [email protected]

Subject : Senior Project Partner Assignment

 

Good Afternoon,

 

As you have been informed, the final project for the Senior Class of 751 has been issued. To recap, you will be paired up with a fellow peer at random and are to write an essay on each other, detailing what you’ve learned about that person. The project will be due two weeks before graduation.

 

Should you fail to turn in your half of the project on that day, you will be unable to walk with the rest of your class. Please, work together and have fun with this.

 

Remember, success is more than monetary assets, social standing, or your position in life; it is who you choose to stand with you as you embark on this journey to a bright future.

 

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out to your teachers or Dean Grex.

 

Good luck.

 

Thank you,

 

Administrative Staff of Insomnia Academy

PARTNER FOR GLADIOLUS AMICITIA : IGNIS SCIENTIA

Gladio read the email several times, checking to see if there was some sort of mistake. Had Luche managed to create a fake account, complete with the school’s crest embedded in the bottom of the email, just to fuck with him? That tool would do something like this.

Unfortunately, the email looked legit. Gladio studied it for several minutes, hoping it wasn’t real. No, it absolutely was real.

There were no two ways around it; Gladio had to work with Ignis fucking Scientia.

“Son of a bitch. ”

Chapter Text

Gladio tossed. He turned. He huffed and puffed. He paced his room. He tried to close his eyes, only to have them pop open a few minutes later with inexplicable rage. At one point, he tried to sit at his desk and study with the energy he had so late at night — or early in the morning, depending on who you were speaking to — but his concentration was shot.

He was fuming.

The next morning, anger still raw and gnawing his insides, Gladio stormed through the halls of his school. In his haste, he’d almost forgotten to grab his uniform jacket, only to throw it over his shoulders at the very last minute. Rumpled and creased in all the wrong places, Gladio looked a hot mess, but he was a man on a mission.

Fuck if this school was going to force Ignis Scientia on him for this stupid project. Ignis was boring. An asshole. Full of himself in such a quiet, arrogant way that it was no wonder the kid had no friends. If Gladio was forced to work with him for the rest of the year, he’d probably jump off a cliff.

Probably? No, more like absolutely .

It wasn’t even that he liked to throw his name around, but he was Gladiolus Amicitia . Heir to the Amicita fortune. The son of Clarus Amicitia, right-hand man to the King himself and alumni to the school many years ago. All of this meant that Gladio practically owned the school, right? Ugh, the nerve! How could his school put him in such a predicament? How dare they!

There was a mistake.

There had to be a mistake.

Once he got to the Dean’s office, he’d state his case and prove that this was all just some huge misunderstanding and that he should’ve been paired with someone else. They’d all have a good laugh, breath a massive sigh of relief, and Gladio would leave with his new partner’s name. Problem solved. Case closed. Mission Accomplished.

As he rounded the corner, the simmering rage he’d fought to stuff down now coming to a rolling boil underneath the surface of his skin, he skidded to a halt.

There, sitting in an uncomfortable chair just outside the Dean’s office, was Ignis.

His hands were perched precariously in his lap, like a small child who’d just been scolded. Next to the leg of the chair was his bag, stuffed full with all his schoolbooks and various notebooks. His head was down, making it hard for Gladio to judge the expression he wore. Surely he wasn’t here to catch up on menial subjects with the Dean or shoot the shit before classes began for the day. For as long as Gladio and Ignis had known each other, Gladio could at least assume that Ignis was just as upset at their arrangement.

When Gladio’s footsteps halted at the doorway, it was just the noise necessary to grab Ignis’ attention. He looked up, eyes trailing from his hands, and honed in on Gladio with ire scrutiny.

Seeing Ignis go from a mild-mannered, disciplined student, to a hardass with a scowl that could scare off almost anyone was enough to draw an unexpected sarcastic snort out of Gladio. With several tense steps, he made his way to the chair beside Ignis, towering over him before forcing himself to take a seat. “What? Here to kiss the Dean’s ass and play the role of Teacher’s Pet?”

Ignis didn’t flinch. Gladio was sure Ignis had probably heard worse, and from Gladio’s own friends, no doubt. Still, he expected some sort of reaction. A sarcastic retort perhaps. Not the silent treatment he was being subjected to right now. When Ignis still didn’t say anything, Gladio tried a different approach. “Well then, why are you here?” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The lack of reaction from Ignis was becoming unbearable. No outburst, no narrowed eyes thrown his way, no balled-fists. Nothing. Ignis was the picture of cool. Gladio grunted, blowing an errant piece of hair away from his eyes as he ran his hands passed the buzzed sides of his hair before interlocking them behind his head. Strangely enough, the fact that Ignis didn’t even give him the once-over like he did just the other day made Gladio feel . . . well, he couldn’t place the emotion.

Annoyance, if he had to pin it.

Ignis didn’t move his hands from his lap, instead focusing on a spot on the wall instead of deigning to look in Gladio’s direction. Then, when Gladio had just about given up, Ignis spoke. “I assume it’s for the same reason you’re here.” It almost sounded monotonous.

“Yeah? And what reason is that?”

Ignis rolled his eyes, smacking his lips. “The email with your name as my partner, for starters.”

The way his accent sounded, hissing those words with all the disdain he could muster? Gods, it made him sound even more like a royal prick. “Yeah, yeah. It ain’t like I’m too pleased to be working with you too . . . what with your—”

They were interrupted by the whoosh of the door opening beside them. “Ignis Scientia? Gladiolus Amicitia?”

The Dean stood with the most welcoming of smiles as he gestured into his office. Ignis, the quintessential teacher’s pet, was already up with his bag in hand, bowing his head as he moved passed the Dean with poise and grace. Gladio, on the other hand, regarded the Dean with a look that could only be described as a mixture of ‘How Could You’ and ‘You Really Fucking Owe Me’. Nonetheless, he clapped his hands to his knees, stood, and followed a close minute behind Ignis, barely flinching as the door clicked shut behind him.  

“Gentlemen, please take a seat,” the Dean implored, gesturing to the seats positioned in front of his desk.

Normally Gladio took the polite route, often motioning for the person he was with to take a seat first. Sometimes, he even pulled it out for them. Doing so was such an ingrained thing that Gladio didn’t even second guess it anymore.

But today?

Ha!

No, he would not give that satisfaction to Ignis. He didn’t deserve Gladio’s chivalry if he were the last person on the planet. Gladio further strutted his way inside the Dean’s office, making sure to bump Ignis from behind as he did so, taking the far left seat like it was so obviously offered to him. He placed his right ankle on his knee with his elbows angled on the armrests. Ignis glowered with the utmost scorn as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his sharp nose, taking the other seat and sitting ramrod straight like a pole was surgically attached to his spine.

Once they were sat, the tension palpable, the Dean interlocked his fingers on his desk, eyes cast down as he smiled. “Well, I don’t think it needs to be mentioned why you both have found your way to my office. The project, correct?”

Gladio opened his mouth, ready to spew facts as to why he absolutely should not be paired with Ignis, but it appeared that Ignis found his voice first. “Sir? If I may . . .” he piped up, a small waver in his voice. Gladio sat back in his chair, amused. This should be good.

“Yes?” the Dean said.

Ignis faltered a second more, either nervous in the face of authority or just flustered in general, before stating his case. “Sir, I think I can speak for both Gladiolus and myself when I say that this partnership between the both of us is a complete and total outrage. The thought of us working together is asinine!”

Oh. Well, that was the first thing that Ignis and Gladio had in common. At least they both were vehemently against the idea of working toget — hey, wait a minute! “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Gladio started, sitting upright in his chair. “What do  you have against working with me??”

Ignis raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, his lips so pursed that they were nearly nonexistent on his pinched, soured face. “Shall I draw up a list?” he mocked, words clipped. “I can if you so wish. Though I warn you, working our way through it would take a majority of our time today . . . possibly well into the evening and into tomorrow.”

Before Gladio could retort with a vitriolic comeback, the Dean held a hand up and chuckled. How could the Dean find humor in this situation? This wasn’t funny! Could he not see that Gladio was the victim in all of this? “Gentlemen, that is enough. Let’s put an end to this before it gets out of hand and restart our discussion like mature adults, hm?”

“But — “ Gladio gestured wildly to the man beside him, much to Ignis’ chagrin. Ignis actually had the audacity to smirk right now. Smirk . Gladio wanted to smack that cold yet arrogant look right off his stupid little face.

“Gladiolus, enough ,” the Dean interrupted, shifting in his chair and getting comfortable. He waited patiently for Gladio to settle down before he continued. “Now, Ignis. Gladiolus. You both seem to find fault with the fact that you were paired as each other’s partner for the Senior Project, am I correct?” When neither student replied or signaled their affirmation, the Dean took that to mean ‘yes’ anyway. “This project is for you to get to know your fellow student. Some students were paired with those whom they were friendly with before. Others, such as yourselves, were not.”

“Ok? And?” Gladio said gruffly, waiting for the Dean to excuse them from having to work together. The sooner he got to that point, the sooner Gladio and Ignis could go merrily on their way.

Unfortunately, the Dean had other plans. “ And . . . I would say that this is a great opportunity for the both of you to really get to know each other.” He sat back in his large chair, smiling. “That is the purpose of this assignment, after all. If I shuffled everyone around so that they received their best friend, then what would this all be about?”

“Are you serious??”

“But, Sir!”

Both Gladio and Ignis cried out at the same time, only stopping when they realized the other had words as well. They exchanged looks and sank back into their chairs, pouting. Even Ignis looked flummoxed, possibly hoping his Teacher’s Pet status would swindle the Dean enough in his favor. Still, seeing the near-imperceptible twitch along Ignis’ sharp and flawless jawline as he obviously clenched his teeth gave Gladio a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing this was getting under Ignis’ skin as bad as it was under his own. Just the thought that Ignis was dying inside, his cool composure merely a facade, made this worth it . . . a little.

“I understand your frustrations, truly I do. However, you must see that this project is more than getting paired up with your best friends. I implore you both to use this to your advantage and get to know each other. I believe there is something you both could learn from each other by the end of this assignment.” The Dean gave a small nod, his decision final. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with? Any other questions or concerns? Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Ignis gave a curt shake of his head while Gladio mumbled inaudibly under his breath. Another second of unbearable silence and the Dean kindly gestured to the door, signaling the end of their meeting.

Once outside and away from the office, both boys stopped and turned to each other, mutual loathing mirrored on their faces. “Well?” Gladio began, unsure whether he should shove his hands in his pockets or cross them over his chest. He’d thrown his bag into his locker earlier, but maybe having that bag would’ve made for a good distraction right now. “You seem to always have an idea of what to do. What do we do now, oh wise, sage one ?”

Ignis pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and Gladio had half a mind to wonder if he pushed his glasses up with his middle finger on purpose or if he was just that obtuse. No, Ignis was a calculating, petty asshole — he knew what he was doing. “I assume we will have to make due and work together the best we can.”

Without missing a beat, Ignis fished around for something in his bag, fingers flicking through folders and files and notebooks and textbooks and Astrals knows what else until he happened upon a small planner.

From his vantage point, he was able to see how fucking full Ignis’ planner was. This guy didn’t know the meaning of ‘free time’ apparently. Beautiful penmanship marked off days and weeks with scarcely a blank space anywhere on the pages. Gladio knew he was always busy — always going, going, going — but how the fuck did he manage it? It was superhuman.

“We have that free period together on Fridays, so I could move some of my work around to accommodate you. Other than that, we’ll have to play it by ear as my schedule shifts constantly.”

Gladio growled. Of course , they’d have to work around his schedule, like Gladio’s time meant nothing. It wasn’t even like Gladio had a say in the matter — what Ignis said was law. “Yeah, whatever. Free period sounds good to me.”

Snapping the planner closed with a quiet click , Ignis nodded and flicked his eyes up to meet Gladio’s, just over the rims of his glasses. And there it was again — those eyes. Those beautiful, dazzling, entrancing green eyes. For a moment, Gladio forgot what it was they were discussing. He wondered if he gasped out loud or if that was just in his head. Even though his eyes weren’t on fire with fury like they were yesterday, there was still something about them. Something captivating. Gladio could almost admit it to himself that he was finding himself lost in Ignis’ eyes, but then Ignis went and ruined it with some final words “Splendid. I’ll see you then. And don’t be late .”

Just as he did yesterday when they bumped into each other, Gladio watched as Ignis walked away, a myriad of emotions clouding his mind.

“Fucking asshole .”

Gladio sat in an empty hallway with his friends on their lunch break, arms resting on bended knees and head tipped back against the wall. His uniform sleeves were rolled up and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Luche had taken to throwing a stress ball up in the air, catching it each time before repeating the process. Crowe, Pelna, and Tredd all stood or sat around, either fiddling with their phones or eating whatever was left of their lunch.

Gladio had spent a majority of the morning trying to forget his interaction with Ignis earlier, but it was hard. Whenever his thoughts went back to him, Gladio realized his pulse picked up speed. His blood roared in his ears. Chalk it up to anger, hostility, what you will . . . but Gladio was thankful all the same when he went more than a half hour or so before thinking of him again.

Speak of the Infernian.

“Who’d you get?”

Gladio tilted his head slightly, coming back from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized they’d been talking to him. Whoops. “Huh? What’re you talking about?”

Pelna snickered. “Sheesh, you really were zoned out. We’re talking about our project partners and Tredd asked you three times who you got. You ok, man?”

“Oh . . . oh yeah,” Gladio exhaled, dragging a hand down the front of his face. There was a laundry list of ways to answer that question. Was he ok? Sure, he was . . . if no one counted the death of his mother, the obvious grief of his father, taking care of his sister, maintaining his grades . . . oh, and tack Ignis on to that list of stressors. “Sorry, long night. I didn’t sleep well.”

He didn’t say anything else after that and the rest of his friends stared, waiting for his answer with bated breath. When he didn’t give them the satisfaction of answering, Tredd pressed again for the fourth time. “ Ok ?? So . . . who did you get?”

Gladio knew they wouldn’t let him go that easy, no matter what he did to evade the conversation. Truth be told, the only thing worse than having Ignis as a partner for the senior project was having to endure the relentless ridicule for as long as they deemed it necessary (and funny). He shrugged his shoulders, hoping that would be an answer enough for them.

Crowe stabbed her fork into her Tupperware full of what looked like quinoa and grilled chicken. “For fuck's sake, Amicitia, why the secrecy? Whoever you have, it can’t be that bad. I mean unless you have . . .” Crowe stopped when Gladio locked eyes with her, narrowing and daring her to finish her sentence. At her silence, everyone else turned to look at her, then to Gladio, then back to her. The realization dawned on everyone slowly. “Oh . . . oh, holy fuck . Do you . . . are you with . . .”

There was no hiding it now. A nervous habit, Gladio pulled at the tie around his neck. “Yup. Ignis Scientia.”

There was a small, brief moment where the name hung in the air between the group before the confirmation settled in and they all roared with laughter. Everyone, that is, except Gladio. He cringed, desperately wishing the ground would open up from under him and swallow him right there. The longer the laughter went on, the more Gladio hated everyone.

“Oh . . . my . . . gods! Scientia?! Geeky, lame, Scientia??” Pelna giggled. “I can see the project now: Ten pages of how he judges everyone for getting less than 100% on their exams, jacks off to his math notes —”

“Ew, gross man! A) I don’t need that visual, and B) Scientia’s probably never touched his dick in his entire life. The nerd is going to be a virgin until the day he dies.”

“Put that in your report somewhere, Amicitia! Just sneak it in. ‘Ignis Scientia will die a virgin because no one likes his scrawny, dorky ass.’”

Gladio tried to hide his discomfort and still appear like he was completely on board with the shit talking about Ignis. Any other topic and Gladio would’ve been game for joining in, but when it came to sex? And who was and who was not a virgin? Well . . . he had no room to talk as he was . . . well . . .  “Yeah, ha. That is a . . . a good talking point isn’t it? I’ll . . . uh . . . jot that one down.”

None of them caught the nerves that tinged the edges of his words, but Gladio knew he was just that good at living a lie. Lie after lie after lie. And if they were to ever find out about this ? Well, that was something he didn’t want to think about.

Luche wiped away a tear, his laughter giving way to a more serious tone. “Dude, you’ve gotta find a way to ditch him. Go to the Dean or something! They’ll switch you if you ask, I bet.”

Gladio rolled his eyes and shrunk back against the wall. “I tried. Went straight to his office this morning and everything. He said this would be the perfect opportunity to get to know each other or some dumb shit like that. Wouldn’t hear of it when I asked for a reassignment.” He ran a hand through his hair, careful to leave out that Ignis had been there too and the way those eyes looked at him over those glasses . . . fuck, even the thought of them made Gladio’s heart pound.

Tredd snorted, brushing away an invisible speck of dirt on his otherwise spotless blazer. “Rough life, man. Sucks to be you,” he said, a noticeable lack of compassion to his words. Gladio didn’t blame him, though — if the roles were reversed, he knew he’d be just as relieved that it wasn’t him with Ignis. As it were though, it was he who had to suffer.

Luche hunched forward and pointed directly at Gladio, ready to make a statement. “No, this could be perfect.” They all turned to look at him, waiting to hear what could possibly be perfect about the predicament Gladio found himself in. “Scientia thinks he’s hot shit, yeah? All because he skipped one grade and the teachers adore him. Well, fuck that shit.”

Gladio cocked his head, squinting. “Go on . . .”

He chuckled. “Nyx’s party this weekend. Let’s say we show Scientia how we do things up here, hm?”

There was an awkward sort of silence as everyone tried to follow Luche’s train of thought. When no one spoke up, he let out an exasperated sigh and pushed himself up and away from where he sat against the wall, just across from Gladio. “Do I need to walk you dimwits through everything ? Fuck, you guys are dumb. Look, Amicitia invites Scientia to Nyx’s party. Scientia thinks he’s in. He gets comfy and then . . . BAM. We swoop in for the kill.”

Gladio noticed quickly that Crowe had already turned her back to everyone, while the other two boys of the group averted their eyes to anywhere but Luche. The rabid, gleaming look in Luche’s eyes caused Gladio’s stomach to twist in knots, an uneasy twinge he couldn’t ignore. “I mean, yeah . . . Scientia’s a dick and all, but I’m not exactly sure it warrants us doing anything to him.”

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Amicitia. What, you upset you’re gonna hurt his wittle feewings ? Get a grip, the guy doesn’t have an emotional bone in his goddamn body.”

Once again, leave it to Luche to be the resident asshole of the group. Gladio waved a hand and closed his eyes. “I’m all for talking shit about him, but actually going out of our way to tear him down? No thanks, I’m out. Besides,” he stopped, hoping he was remembering his lies correctly about attending/not attending said party, “I won’t be in town for Nyx’s thing, remember? Got that thing my dad wants me to go to in . . . uhh . . . Altissia.”

Thank the Astrals for a half-decent memory.

Gladio wondered if he’d imagined the collective sigh he thought he heard from the other three or what, but his mind was brought back to Luche when he scoffed. “You for real? Better not be gettin’ all soft on me and shit by protecting that dweeb.”

Seriously, something about Luche made Gladio forever on edge. It wasn’t that Gladio thought that Luche would do anything to seriously maim or injure anyone, but he definitely wasn’t one to apologize after accidentally sticking his foot out to trip someone, or something of the sort. Luche always wanted to be on top and to be better than the next person — in more ways than one. Even though Gladio wasn’t intimidated by Luche, he still made the conscious decision to keep an eye out whenever he was around.

“No, seriously. It’s just a stupid project. It’s not like I can’t handle him, ok? Ignis is nothing in the grand scheme of things. We don’t need to do anything bad to him. Just . . . just let me get through this to graduation. If I need your help or whatever, I’ll call you.”

A shrug of his shoulders and Luche threw his head back to rid himself of the few stray red strands of hair that fell in his eyesight. “Whatever. Your funeral.”

As quick as the conversation turned to Ignis, it diverted to another topic just as fast. The entire thing gave Gladio pause; a bitter taste left in his mouth from the exchange. It was only because he’d been raised better than this, better than to even consider going straight to someone’s face and tearing them down. It’s why he didn’t want Luche going after him, right?

Then again, was it any better to act like a saint in front of everyone — in front of Ignis? — and then turn right around and trash him in private? Gladio looked at all his friends as they laughed, ignorant to what he was thinking. He wondered if they ever talked about him in private. He put on these faces around them — at the cost of sacrificing who he really was — but was it ever enough? If they knew he secretly loved reading, that he cried at night for his mother, that he was still sexually inexperienced, that he studied his ass off to maybe have a fighting chance at ranking number one in his class . . . oh, the ridicule he’d face.

It was almost the closest Gladio had come in that very moment to sympathizing with Ignis. Almost .

Still, Gladio really didn’t feel like having his allegiance to his friends tested, but he also wasn’t in the mood to go toe-to-toe with Ignis over stupid bullshit. Weighing his options, it seemed best to let things continue on as Gladio figured they would — him grudgingly meeting up with Ignis later and getting this project done as soon as possible.

The sooner, the better.

Chapter Text

The week simultaneously blurred and dragged on as Gladio anxiously waited for the day he had to meet up with Ignis. Gods, he was not looking forward to their first ‘get to know you’ session. What exactly was there to learn about him, anyway? Stuffy, boring, and lame seemed sufficient enough to sum Ignis up, but Gladio doubted the administration would appreciate the low word count upon handing the project in. Gladio was truly hoping to make Valedictorian — he was up there in the top three of the class — so anything less than stellar would dash those hopes. Instead, he’d sigh and convince himself that things would be ok and he just had to learn enough to write this paper. Really, how bad could the meeting be?

When the day arrived, Gladio meandered into study hall, bag slung over his shoulder, with the worst knot in the pit of his stomach. Nerves? Leftover anger? Whatever it was, all throughout his classes, the knot wouldn’t go away. It was like his subconscious already knew what to expect and prepared him as such.

The hall was massive, naturally lit by the giant windows along the entirety of the walls, all overlooking the perfectly manicured lawn of the school. Off in the distance, students played hastily-organized games of soccer, lacrosse, and catch on their own free periods. Trees had already begun to turn, greens dotted with browns and oranges and yellows. It was right at that point in the season where the nights and mornings were crisp, demanding a light jacket, while the afternoons were still slightly sweltering with a hint of summer.

Just great. It was a beautiful early-autumn day, and Gladio was stuck inside, gearing up to meet with the absolute last person he wanted to be with. Ramuh himself could threaten to strike him down and Gladio would gladly welcome that over being anywhere near Ignis.

Standing at a random window, Gladio caught sight of his favorite tree on the opposite side of a baseball field, begging for him to come sit under it. Gladio liked to go there when he needed some peace and quiet on the days he didn’t need to pick up Iris. He’d bring the book he was currently reading or a handful of notes from his classes and settle himself in the shade, content to listen to nothing but silence and the passing wind as his eyes skimmed pages of words.

As weird as it was to admit to himself, sometimes he felt most at peace when he was alone. The notion was mind-boggling — how could someone feel just fine alone, but become filled with crippling anxiety and a sick-sense of dread when around friends? Other students? Large groups of people? Honestly, even home seemed to be more stifling these days, lest he was hanging out with Iris, watching crummy TV and laughing over a shared bowl of chips (and how she could derive even the smallest smiles from him on his worst days, he’d never know; but he was forever thankful all the same).

Gladio felt free to be himself when he was alone. He could read. He could study. He could sob his cold, empty heart out with the heels of his palms pressed tightly to his eyes. Scream to the gods. Stare at the sky and wonder why. How. What did he do to get here? When would things get better? When would the dark cloud over his head dissipate to let some light into his life? All these questions . . . and all without answers. Ok, maybe being alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Who knows? Maybe someone would come along one day to stand by his side and make things alright in his world.

Maybe.

One day.

Someone cleared their throat at a nearby table, causing Gladio to jump at the rude intrusion of his own thoughts. When he jerked his head to look at the source of the interruption, Gladio could already feel the heat radiating from his face as he locked eyes with Ignis, sat in a chair with his arms crossed. Always with that judging look. Always with the stick up his ass. “You’re late,” he hissed.

Late? Late ?? It was barely a minute passed the agreed upon time, and already Ignis was down his throat for petty bullshit. Still, Gladio didn’t need to add on a detention or a suspension to his record when it was Senior Year. Oh, and that number one class ranking he was vying for. As much as he wanted to deck Ignis’ smug face, he would attempt to be the bigger person. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, right?

Scowling, Gladio hoisted his bag up a little higher on his shoulder and walked to the table. “By like . . . a second.”

Ignis stole a glimpse of his watch, not a hint of amusement anywhere on his face. Gladio may as well have told him that he’d graffitied the library walls, kicked down the statues in the courtyard, or — even worse — that he made copies of, and distributed, the chemistry exam they were due for in a week. “Yes, well . . . it’s typical you would lack the decency to show up on time like I asked. It would be a shame for you to consider someone other than yourself for once, but I digress.”

Well, this wasn’t starting out the way Gladio hoped — not that he hoped for much at all. Swallowing the urge to just turn on his heels and walk out, Gladio pulled the chair out from under the table and flopped into it, dropping his bag from his shoulder onto the floor with such a loud thump that it drew several glares in their direction — and a loud shush or two along with them.

“Get off your high horse and put a cork in it, alright? It’s a minute — no need to give yourself an aneurysm over it . . . but it would save me the agony of working with your neurotic ass, ” Gladio said, mumbling the last part under his breath.

“What was that??” Ignis replied sharply. Fuck, he had some crazy, supersonic hearing.

“Nothing, sheesh!” he backpedaled. “It was nothing . . . anyway, let’s get this show on the road. Sound good?” Ignoring the pointed stares as he shuffled some papers around in his bag, Gladio searched for a notebook and pen. Finding the notebook was easy, but a spare pen seemed to elude him. No matter how many times he shook his bag and shifted the contents of said bag around, he couldn’t find that damned pen.

The entire time, Ignis held his head high, glaring daggers as he waited. He tapped a slender finger on the beautiful, wooden table to further make a point. “Any day now, Gladiolus. The clock is ticking and I don’t have all day.”

What is this guy’s fucking deal? Gladio thought. We have an entire hour to get this project rolling, and he’s acting like we ain’t got time or anything . . . fucking fuck . . .

“Just . . . one minute . . . Looking for my . . . yes!” Patience already fraying, Gladio found the pen buried in the bottom of his bag, along with a protein bar and some spare change he’d forgotten about. Of course, Ignis was already rolling his eyes as Gladio opened the notebook to the first blank page, touching the pen to it and ready to write. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You sat there and watched me instead of just offering me one of your stupid pens.”

“Oh, and I suppose it’s my fault you were ill-prepared upon arriving?”

He just needed to get through the hour. That’s all. An hour. Forcing a fake smile, Gladio decided to jump right into things. “ Anyway ! I guess we can start with the basics or something. You know . . . little things like who we are. I don’t know . . . Umm . . . Shit. Ok . . . Well, you know my name is —”

“Gladiolus Amicitia. Yes, I know.”

Gladio blinked, opening his mouth and closing it a few times before finding his voice. He hadn’t expected to get cut off so abruptly. Ignis’ exasperated sigh, a breath that practically screamed how little he thought of Gladio, threw off Gladio’s train of thought. “Uh . . . well, yeah . . .”

Ignis’ stare practically burned a hole through Gladio the longer he looked, almost to the point that Gladio felt the need to turn away. He definitely wasn’t trying to make this easy. Whatever game this was that Ignis was playing, Gladio was not about it. He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and tried again. “Yeah, Gladiolus Amicitia. And I know you are Ignis Scientia . . . so we’ve got that out of the way. Um . . . You . . . Uh . . .”

As Gladio wracked his brain to remember just about anything regarding Ignis, he wasn’t at all surprised to note the way Ignis sat up, rigid and stiff. After a minute of silence, Ignis finally said, “You’re Gladiolus Amicitia.”

There was a melodic note to Ignis’ voice, a tone Gladio had never heard before from him. It wasn’t inviting, but it was a far cry from the steely way he normally spoke. Gladio cocked his head to the side, intrigued to see where Ignis was going with this. Was he opening the lines of communication? Was this how he’d wave the white flag, ready to let bygones be bygones as they worked together in perfect harmony?

Ignis continued, still annoyingly chipper. “You are Insomnia Academy’s Sweetheart, adored by teachers and students alike. You go out with your friends on the weekend with the sole intention of inebriating yourself on whatever fine liquor or craft beer is available from the cabinets of your friend’s parent’s, only to then sleep with anyone who looks your way without bothering to learn their name. Your parents undoubtedly have no idea that you sneak out after dark to do whatever it is you do, coming home just before dawn so they believe they’ve raised a well-behaved son who does no wrong.

“You skirt by in class, obtaining barely passable grades just so you can make it out of this school in one piece, though we all know that the administration here turns a blind eye to your antics and will allow you to graduate even if you’re failing. And, truthfully, why bother with trying at all when you could cozy up to the school board for grades that the rest of us work hard for? Or when your future is set in stone, universities clamoring for your attention so that they can boast that the great Gladiolus Amicitia has accepted their offer to attend.” Quirking his eyebrow, Ignis allowed one corner of his lips to turn up into the faintest of smirks. “Does that sound about right?”

Gladio hadn’t realized his jaw dropped in the midst of Ignis’ diatribe, rendered utterly speechless. “Excuse me?” he sputtered, eyes narrowing as the words came out. Anything beyond those two words were hard to come by.

“Certainly you don’t believe yourself to be a saint? A kind soul? That your mother and father are proud of the reputation you’ve culled for yourself at such a prestigious academy?” Ignis snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Your naivete is almost endearing.”

Wow. Gladio wasn’t sure what hurt the most: The snarky way Ignis called him ‘Insomnia Academy’s Sweetheart’, the supposed reputation of sleeping around, the insinuation that he could fuck up so royally in class in regards to his grades and no teacher would care, or the cold and calloused way he emphasized both of his parents in the picture. Maybe it was a combination of everything — calculated barbs clearly intended to wound Gladio’s pride, ego, and feelings.

Or, was it that Ignis thought he had him all figured out when in actuality he didn’t know the first thing about him?

“I . . . Is that what you think of me? That I’m that kind of person??” Gladio swallowed the lump forming in his throat and closed his eyes, slowly counting backward from ten to one, starting over again when that did little to calm him. Dulled nails dug in his palms as he made tight fists, his right fist almost threatening to break the pen still gripped in his grasp. His pulse raced and whatever quiet sound he heard before in the study hall was now drowned out by the roar of blood in his ears.

With what little restraint he could muster after hearing all of that, Gladio managed to grind out a faint, “I’m not any of those things.”

“Oh, is that so? I find that hard to believe.” Ignis shook his head in what appeared to be mild disbelief. “You may have the world at your feet, but some of us actually work for the things we have. Not all of us can waltz through life having things handed to us. For those of us who don’t have the luxury that you so blatantly take for granted, we have to earn our way in this world,” he seethed, waving a hand around as if to motion that ‘this world’ actually meant ‘this school’. ‘The Upper Eschelon of Insomnia Academy’. “And you? You have no idea what it feels like to struggle. You’ve never had to grapple with any of life’s hardships, have you? No, I’d assume not.”

The hurt was curdling Gladio’s blood into raw anger — the same anger he felt the night he tossed and turned and paced upon getting this gods-forsaken assignment. If Ignis knew . . . oh if he fucking knew. At this point, Gladio wondered if he could actually grind his teeth down the way he was clenching his jaw so tight. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Ignis,” he spat. “Don’t you dare act like you have any idea who I am or what I’m about.”

“I believe I have you pegged pretty well, though I implore you to please change my mind if you feel I’m wrong.”

He had him pegged pretty well? What? What did that even mean ??

So tightly wound up at the unfair remarks, Gladio finally snapped. He slammed the pen down and sat forward in his seat. “Yeah? You think you know me? What about you, Mr. ‘I’m-Hot-Shit’, ‘I-Skipped-A-Grade’, ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Friends’? Hm? Your stuffy, boring ass goes home every fucking night and can’t be bothered to do anything but study for a million hours. You’re every parent’s wet dream and every university’s ideal student, but you lack the know-how to have any sort of fun. No one likes you and I can honestly see why. You’re an asshole. You’re a pompous, rude, full of himself asshole and you are, hands down, the biggest, most insufferable prick I’ve ever met in my entire life. You could disappear from Eos and we all would be none the wiser.  So . . . yeah. That about sum up your life? Or do you want me to keep going?”

It was low, even for him, but Gladio didn’t care. He tried, didn’t he? He wanted to maybe get this started off cordially, but Ignis had already proved he was out for blood. So, fuck it. Why should he play nice anymore?

He waited for some sort of sign that Ignis was irked or bothered by his words. That he’d done something to rattle him, cause some stirring of emotion under that detached exterior of his, but there was nothing. No reddened face. No fire in his eyes like before. Gladio almost wondered if Ignis had even heard him at all, but then Ignis’ eyes flickered — the only indication that felt even a tiny bit of anything — and Gladio got his answer. “Yes . . . I suppose that’s fair.”

They were getting nowhere with this meeting. Gladio could sit here all day — or at least the next forty-five minutes if he was correct — and let Ignis shit all over him. He could let his anger get the better of him again and respond in kind like he just did, but he had enough. Gladio couldn’t stick around anymore. It was better to get out now than to stoop to even further levels than he’d already lowered himself to.

As Gladio slid his notebook from the tabletop into his still-opened bag under him, he heard Ignis click his tongue. It seemed he wasn’t quite done letting Gladio know what kind of person he judged him to be. “Of all my thoughts about you, I never once took you for the kind to run away when someone called you out on your shortcomings.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Gladio should’ve continued packing up and left, but he couldn’t. Ignis’ stupid voice. His pretentious mannerisms. That accent . Fuck, Gladio was already over this bullshit. Not even halfway through their damn meeting and Gladio was packing up to . . . well, he wasn’t sure what he would do when he stormed out of here. Go demand to be released from this gods-forsaken project? The partners were set in stone at this point — the Dean made that perfectly clear. Short of taking a failing grade, Gladio was stuck.

If only there was something he could do. Something to knock Ignis down to size and let him know that Gladio wasn’t someone to mess with. Nothing crazy; maybe a silly prank. Something harmless. It would have to be something outside of school, away from the eyes and ears of the academy staff. If only Ignis would consider going to . . . In the middle of shoving things in his bag, mumbling as Ignis still watched on like a hawk, Gladio froze.

A lightbulb moment.

Of course.

The Party.

Luche’s words echoed through his head — the ones during lunch earlier that week, begging Gladio to invite Ignis to that party this weekend. Back then, Gladio had been adamant that Ignis not be invited to Nyx’s party for several reasons — mostly because Gladio already had a date with his books and study material, the fact that the party was being hosted by the very person he hoped he’d never see again (all these months later, and Gladio couldn’t seem to forget him , no matter how bad he broke his heart ), but, most importantly, because he hadn’t been comfortable with leaving Ignis alone at the party with Luche and company on the prowl.

Gladio stood up for Ignis. He had his back that day.

Ohhh, Ignis doesn’t mean any harm.

He’s not all that bad.

He can easily be handled.

Blah, blah, blah.

Gladio had brushed off all the threats of help because surely Ignis had a heart deep-down once they got to know each other. No way could he be that mean. Nope, fuck that. Ignis had shown what he was about and who he really was, hurling low-blow after low-blow before they could even exchange simple facts about each other. He wasn’t the aloof and haughty guy Gladio thought he’d be — worse, he was downright calculating and heartless.

The gloves were off. If Ignis thought he knew Gladio . . . well, fine; he could see the guy he believed Gladio to be.

With a renewed sense of confidence, a cool change to his demeanor, Gladio slowly sat up from hunching over his bag. In one smooth and drawn out movement, he lounged back, tipping far enough to balance on only the back two legs of the chair. Somewhere in the time that Gladio had begun to pack his belongings and now, Ignis had turned his attention to writing something down in his notebook with that perfect penmanship of his.

So engrossed in what he was writing, he hadn’t even noticed the lackadaisical attitude Gladio had taken on. “Alright, Ignis. You think you know me?” Gladio laced his fingers behind his head as Ignis looked up from his paper. “Think you know what I’m all about? Fine. Come to a party this weekend with me. Saturday night.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. A party tomorrow night. An old . . . friend . . . is apparently throwing it. This is my olive branch to you. I won’t even tell anyone if you decide to pull that stick out of your ass long enough to have a drink or two.”

Ignis huffed, scribbling more notes on his paper. “You’re not exactly helping your case by inviting me to a rager. Besides, it’s not my scene . . . much like the library — or any place with a shred of scholarly atmosphere — is not your scene.”

Fuck you, asshole. “Consider it research for this stupid assignment.”

“I don’t need to research what I already know.”

“Holy fuck, are you always this fucking arrogant?”

Ignis continued writing a word or two before glowering at Gladio. He licked his lips, his nostrils flaring. “And why on Eos should I trust that you? You haven’t proven yourself to be particularly principled nor virtuous.”

“You wanna come or not? I ain’t gonna beg for you to show up, but maybe you should give me — the party — a chance before you begin to write whatever it is you’ve planned to write about me.”

He waited impatiently and then the scratch of Ignis’ pen writing some more filled the silence. A beat longer, and Gladio almost missed the quiet, “I’ll think about it,” that Ignis mumbled.

That was a surprise. Gladio thought Ignis was going to say more, that he had more questions or sarcastic remarks to rattle off, so hearing the quiet words threw Gladio off. Surely Ignis would look up and say he was kidding and that he had no plans to attend at all, but that was it. A small step toward what would eventually be Gladio’s assured victory in this war between them.

Even if Gladio had to see the one person he hadn’t wanted to see ever again, even if he had to stay up and cram every last bit of information of this upcoming exam into his already drained brain, it would be worth it to get Ignis off his back. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to go into this project feeling like shit because of all the things Ignis thought about him.

Gladio pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his text messages until he found Luche’s name. A click, and soon he dragged his thumb furiously over the keyboard. As far as his friends knew, they were still under the impression that he was going away to Altissia, so Gladio had to make up some lame lie to save face. No big deal, it wasn’t like they were going to read too much into this anyway.  

Gladio (3:24 p.m.) - hey. change of plans. dad isnt forcing me to go with him so i can go to the party this weekend. btw im bringing scientia. lets show him a good time.

There. Sent.

The satisfaction he felt when the message showed ‘sent’, and subsequently ‘read’ soon after, was short lived. When Gladio looked up from his phone, smug, Ignis was skimming the page he filled with words — what the hell was he writing?? —  oblivious to what Gladio had just done.

Ignis was so focused on his paper, so concentrated on what he was doing, that seeing him so unguarded and comfortable in his own element was like seeing a mythical creature. Gladio was completely enraptured, unsure of how Ignis could be so intimidating one minute, but completely tranquil and calm the next. Ignis didn’t even look all that threatening right now. He was in his own world, the rest of reality tuned out and probably nothing but a blur of colors and shapes and ambient sound now. It should’ve been infuriating to know that Ignis wasn’t fazed by their recent exchange — or, at least, he didn’t seem to be — but Gladio was captivated.

And then, he began to think. 

Ignis worked his ass off, that much was certain. Maybe he had a point in that Gladio could commit the most heinous of crimes and all the teachers would find a way to cover it up so he could still graduate with top marks. Ignis, on the other hand, probably didn’t have that same advantage. Gladio did project the ‘meathead’ persona so he could fit in with his friends, so obviously that was working well . . . but why did it bother him so much that Ignis thought this?

They just didn’t know each other. And, really, Gladio wasn’t much better with all the horrible things he thought of Ignis. The longer Gladio watched Ignis, the more his anger subsided and the more he found himself realizing that, yeah, maybe Ignis had a point. It wasn’t the best delivery, but he made some good points.

The phone vibrated in Gladio’s lap, quiet enough so not even Ignis was alerted of the incoming text. With an odd sense of dread, sudden and heavy in Gladio’s stomach, he discreetly thumbed over the text notification and wished for any words but the ones on the screen.

Luche (3:29 p.m.) - lol awesome dude. cant wait. this will be so much fun.

Still, Ignis was ignorant of what was going on and bile burned in Gladio’s throat.

Great. No turning back now.

Gladio’s only hope was that Ignis wouldn’t show up at all.

Chapter Text

The bass of the music thudded hard in Gladio’s chest as he sat, legs apart with a beer in his hand, on a beautiful leather couch. The living room was alive with what had to be hundreds of students and young adults, screaming and yelling and dancing without a care in the world. Outside the french doors, opened to the Olympic-sized pool and lush green lawn, were more people — jumping in the pool, taking shots, and having fun. Crowe was chatting with some random student from a rival school while Pelna sat at the edge of the water, teetering precariously close enough to fall right in.

No one seemed to give a damn that Gladio was sitting alone, zoned out next to a couple making out beside him. Already three. . . four? . . . hell, probably five in, Gladio was feeling the beginnings of a buzz — a great distraction from all the shit he was trying to forget. School. Friends. Life.

It wasn’t something he was proud to admit, but sometimes drinking was a good way to escape all of that (and it made these parties tolerable at best). All of the bad in his life. The times where he was fine one minute and depressed the next. Those nights where he’d wake up in a panic, willing his heart to slow. No, it wasn’t a particularly healthy habit, but it was a vice he wasn’t ready to let go of right now.

Before he left the Amicitia manor earlier that evening, Gladio lightly knocked on his father’s office door before pushing it open, swallowing back the emotion and heartache in his throat as he found his father in the dim light of his study. Clarus was tired. Drained. The stress of his life marked by wrinkles on his face. Definitely not the man he was before the death of his wife.

“Uh . . . hey, dad.”

Clarus looked up from whatever paperwork he was studying, his hand holding a nearly depleted glass of whiskey. Gladio knew that when his father had that whiskey out, it meant he had a rough day. Here was hoping this would be a quick and painless conversation. “Oh . . . Gladiolus. Yes, come in.”

Gladio inched his way inside, suddenly feeling rather small and vulnerable. Something about his father did that to him. Whether that was from the fact he never saw him anymore, or the presence he gave off, Gladio didn’t know. Nonetheless, he clasped his hands behind his back, standing up straight like a soldier in front of his father’s desk. “I . . . uh . . . I’m going out for the night. Just . . . uh . . . thought you should know.”

His father stilled before leaning back in his chair, glass still in hand. “Hm . . . and where are you going this evening?”

Gladio fidgeted. “There’s . . . a get-together. Nothing big,” he lied.

Clarus mulled this over, swirling the last remaining amount of his liquor in the glass before answering. “You know the rules about going out, Gladiolus,” he said. “Have you finished your studies?”

“Yes.” Another lie. Another big lie, considering the exam coming up. Gladio hadn’t even cracked his textbooks open like he’d planned.

“Will you need a ride home?”

“I don’t . . . think so?”

Clarus raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”

“No, sir. No, I don’t need a ride. I’ll be fine.”

“And if you do need a ride?”

Gladio let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll call you. Or Jared. Or grab a cab. I know, I know.”

“Does Iris have someone to watch over her while you’re gone?”

Gladio always hated that question, like it was his responsibility to look over Iris. Granted, he’d never let Iris fall in harm’s way, but the fact remained that his own father should’ve seen to that — not Gladio. Still, after the loss of Gladio’s mother, Clarus lost his way when it came to who was looking over Gladio and Iris, and Gladio couldn’t help but feel compelled to step up and take over when it came to Iris and her wellbeing. “Jared . . . uh . . . Jared said he would look after her tonight. I asked him again . . . sooooo . . . “

Clarus nodded, his eyes falling on his paperwork for another second more. “And who will you be with tonight?”

Another question that Gladio hated. He knew his father resented his friends, seeing them as nothing more than bad influences. Several times, he’d implored Gladio to find other students to hang out with, warning him that he wasn’t doing himself any favors with the company he was choosing to keep, but Gladio ignored it, retorting with the old excuse that his father just didn’t understand how high school worked anymore. Gladio simply didn’t have a choice; It was either stay with the in-crowd, or end up on the outside. It was a no-brainer.

As much as Gladio wanted to lie again and say he was hanging out with other people, that was the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do. If Clarus found out later through the grapevine that Gladio went behind his back, there would be hell to pay. “Luche. Pelna. The usual.”

“Ah . . . I see . . . “

The clocked ticked behind Gladio, counting down the seconds as Nyx’s party got underway. Gladio almost expected to hear his father say no, absolutely not. Finally, Clarus broke the silence. “One o’clock. Not a second later. Understood?”

Gladio fought the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to walk away, suddenly annoyed that his dad had taken on a caretaker persona like he’d actually been there the last couple of years. It wasn’t that Gladio blamed him — shit, the accident put a huge strain on their family — but when his father got like this, all like he hadn’t been distancing himself since their loss, it hurt. It really fucking hurt.

As if Gladio didn’t blame himself enough already.

Dammit, why couldn’t his dad be like this all the time? This attentive? This present?

Gladio really missed what the accident had taken away.

“Gladio! Yoooooo! Eos to Gladio!”

He was back at the party; back in the midst of a drunken crowd and no longer at home. Luche and Tredd had taken residence on both sides of him, the sofa sinking slightly with their weight (the couple by him before must’ve found an empty bedroom because they were gone). Luche has a cigarette tucked behind his ear while Tredd chugged merrily on some sort of shitty mixed drink — probably a drink with more liquor than mixer.

Gladio shifted to accommodate the two of them, taking a sip of his beer. Luche smirked, his eyes bloodshot with the mixture of pot and alcohol making their way through his system. “I saaiiiiddd . . . when’s that motherfucker Scientia supposed to get here? I’m fucking bored with this lame ass party and could use some entertainment. Thought Nyx was king of these things.”

Fuck. For a moment, Gladio had all but forgotten about Ignis, but that was the whole reason he was here in the first place, right? The regret was starting to creep in, his blood running cold despite the buzz he was chasing. “Not sure, dude.”

Tredd slurred his words, nudging Gladio’s shoulder. “Yeah, but when he gets here? Shit’s gonna get real interesting, right? Gods, when that fucking nerd gets here . . .”

He shrugged him off, taking another sip of his beer and choosing not to answer. “Whatever. You know he probably won’t. Got his nose in a book or something on a Saturday night like the loser he is. I wouldn’t bank on him coming.”

Even though Gladio wasn’t looking directly at him, he could feel Luche eyeing him suspiciously. Judging. “Your tune’s sure changed since yesterday. What’s your fucking deal?”

The label peeled away easily from the sweating bottle. “What’s that mean?”

“You and your moods. You’re no fun lately. This was your idea, remember? So, you better get fucking excited because I’m sure as fuck not going to carry this scheme you have in mind.”

Ha, like Gladio even had some scheme. He was just angry when he invited Ignis and shot off that text. Nothing more. And now that the anger had settled and Gladio had time to himself, he didn’t want to do anything to Ignis.

Try telling Luche that, though.

As if the gods chose right then and there to have a sense of humor, Luche snapped his head to some figure walking in the door. “Well, well, well boys . . . looks like the entertainment just walked in.” He turned to Gladio and shoved him. “Go on, Amicitia. This was your idea, after all. Get him loosened up.”.

Luche had that hungry, unsettling look in his eyes, bloodshot from alcohol and smoke. Gladio wanted to push the guy away, wanted to tell him he’d changed his mind, but somehow Ignis found the three of them in the crowd and elbowed his way through. The snickering began already as Luche and Tredd laid their eyes on him, dressed in clothes that only someone far his senior would wear.

Ignis walked over and stood in front of them, one hand on his hip as if ready to chastise them for something . Gladio smirked to himself thinking of Ignis as the ‘mom-friend.’ “Well,” he yelled over the music and drunken conversations around him. “I’m here.”

Just as Gladio rose to his feet, Luche was up as well, sloppy as he looped an arm around Ignis’ shoulders and pulling him close. “Hey, nerd! About time you showed up. Amicitia here said he invited you to show you a good time and we were worried you bailed!” It was crazy how charming Luche could be when he wanted to be.

“Is that so?” Ignis’ eyes flickered, moving from Gladio’s face to the ground, then to Luche as he stood uncomfortably close. Gladio was impressed; Ignis didn’t seem to falter or shrink back. He continued to remain impassive and calm, allowing Luche to lean his entire body weight on him. “All in the name of a good grade, I suppose.”

It wasn’t a joke, but Luche and Tredd laughed while Gladio tried to drain what little bit of beer was left in his bottle. “Gods, you really are a nerd,” Tredd cackled, punching Ignis in the upper arm as if to convey that he was playing, but Gladio knew he wasn’t. The moniker seemed to bring a flash of hurt to Ignis’ face, but it was gone before Gladio could hone in on it. Hmm, maybe Ignis wasn’t as strong as he pretended to be.

“Ok, guys . . . let him go.” Gladio ordered, but his voice was quiet, lost in the sea of noise. His friends didn’t hear him as they continued to rag on Ignis.

“Is this what you always wear when you’re not in school?” Tredd asked. He pinched at the fabric of Ignis’ vest and looked disgusted.

“Yeah, did you raid your grandpa’s closet??”

Ignis sunk down so he could bow out from under Luche’s arm. “I prefer to always look my best and I find that I’m most comfortable in this style, thank you very much.”

“You do know that this is high school.”

“And this is a party.”

Gladio didn’t have much to say, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans and watching helplessly. Ignis didn’t look bad at all in what he was wearing. Stuffy, yeah, but not bad. If Gladio was honest, he would say that Ignis looked . . . well . . . kinda good done up like this. There was something to be said about a guy who took pride in how he looked, trading in hoodies and t-shirts for nice vests and pressed pants.

And those pressed pants did make Ignis’ ass look really fucking good.

Dammit .

No.

Gladio hated Ignis. Loathed him. Nothing about Ignis was appealing, least of all what he wore to a party on a Saturday night. His face was, no doubt, scarlet red at this point, heated the longer he took in Ignis and his outfit outside of the typical school uniform. No ties. No blazer. Sleeves rolled up. Fuck, had he always looked this . . . gorgeous??

He needed to get away, and fast, before he was caught outright staring. He absolutely, positively did not just associate Ignis with the word ‘gorgeous’. It was the alcohol’s fault. Speaking of alcohol . . .  “Hey . . . uh . . . anyone need a drink? I’m out and need a refill.”

Classic excuse. While Ignis didn’t answer, arms now crossed over his chest and face pinched in displeasure, Tredd and Luche both signaled that they were good for the time being. Probably for the best as it looked like they could barely stand on their own anymore. Thank the Astrals for chauffeurs and limousine services.  

Ignis looked like he could handle these two idiots, or at least Gladio hoped he could. Just from what he’d seen in the years they’d gone to school together, it was plain to see the guy didn’t put up with anyone’s shit. It wasn’t even like Gladio would be gone that long; off through the house, to the kitchen where the drinks were, maybe stop off to the bathroom if the line wasn’t long, and he’d be back before Luche and Tredd could do anything bad. By then, Ignis would’ve hopefully left the party or Gladio could convince him to leave. Either choice was good.

He nodded at the three, eyes lingering for a second longer on Ignis in hopes that he understood he’d be right back (but Ignis never even looked his way), and set off through the mansion to grab one more beer.

Gladio managed to avoid talking to anyone, slipping by countless faces of current and prior students of Insomnia Academy — most he knew, some he didn’t. He hardly ever came to these parties anymore, so he was sure that when he made an appearance, it was a shock to everyone. Lots of forced conversations, hugs and handshakes and high-fives. Clinking of bottles and glasses. It wasn’t even the people that kept him hanging around or coming back — it was the alcohol, the initial burn and subsequent blur of his world as he drank away the stress and sadness. Yet, every time, Gladio left these parties drained and exhausted, ready to crawl into bed the moment he could get away.

He stole a glance at his watch — 11:17 — noting that he still had a bit more time before his father’s imposed curfew for the night. One more. Just one or two more to round off the night, comforted by the thought of that buzz that kept the empty hole of bitter and sorrowful emotions at bay. Then, Gladio could pull Ignis aside, have a brief conversation, arrange to meet up again the following week as they had before, and go home.

He found both beer and bottle opener, the latter lying out on the counter between liquor bottles and empty red cups, and opened the drink. Turning around, snatching up one more beer just so he wouldn’t have to come back, he smacked right into a firm and familiar body.

“Hey, man! Didn’t think you’d show up!”

Gladio stumbled back, blinking before realizing the Nyx Ulric was standing there, a cheeky grin plastered on his handsome face.

For a moment, Gladio’s heart lurched in his chest. He hadn’t seen Nyx in a long while, both because Nyx had graduated and joined the military — against his mother and sister’s wishes— and because . . . well . . .

They’d been a secret. Nyx was a decent ear for when things got rough in the Amicitia household and Gladio fell hard for him — maybe confusing his feelings of comfort for feelings of the romantic variety. There were stolen kisses and heavy petting, but when things got too close to going all the way, Gladio always backed out. Next time , he remembered saying over and over. Eventually, Nyx got tired of the ‘next time’ and ended it, blaming it on the fact that he was graduating and wouldn’t be around.

I just want to see what else is out there. It’s not you, Gladio. You know that, right? It’s me. You’ll find someone who’s worthy of your time. We can still be friends, ok?

It was just another fissure in Gladio’s already shattered heart, made worse by everything else going on.

“Yeah, Luche and all of them dragged me out,” Gladio mumbled, waving back in the direction of the party. “Figured I should come so they would stop giving me hell. That, and I have the senior project to do.”

Nyx chuckled. “Oh yeah, that. Those projects are always such a joke. What is it this year?”

“We have to get to know a randomly chosen student and I got paired with Scientia. Remember him? Glasses, harsh, never shows any emotion, smart as fuck? He seems to think I come to these things all the time, so I invited him out.” A shrug and Gladio was chugging his drink again, suddenly feeling very awkward.

“You? Come on, Gladio . . . you hate these things. Well . . . unless you were looking for your next escape in the bottom of a bottle . . .”

Gladio hummed his response. “Guess I got a reputation.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “Either way, it doesn’t seem like Scientia knows you as well as he thinks he does if he thinks you’re having a great time right now.”

“I guess not.”

Taking a step forward, closing the gap with barely an inch between them, Nyx leaned in with a lowered voice. “So . . . ah . . . how’s your dad? And sister?”

No, not here. Gladio couldn’t deal with emotions right now. He didn’t need the heart-to-heart that Nyx was initiating. Nyx always tried to get Gladio to talk more. Open up. Say more. Speak his mind. It was probably another reason why they didn’t work out, on top of everything else. Gladio would only take their deep conversations so far before he clammed up. “Fine,” he said, peeling the label of his beer bottle while avoiding Nyx’s eyes. “They’re fine. We’re fine.”

A finger under Gladio’s chin brought his eyes up to meet Nyx’s. “You really think I’m gonna believe that one? We’re not together, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Or worry about you . . . you know that, right?”

He shuffled his feet, kicking at the air as he pulled away from Nyx’s hold on his chin. How was he supposed to answer that? Did he care when he ended whatever it was between them just because Gladio wasn’t ready to sleep with him? Did he care when he graduated and left a few days later without even saying goodbye?

Coming to this party was a huge mistake the more he thought about it. He should’ve allowed Ignis the cheap shots and low-blows instead of inviting him out. He should’ve stayed home. Should’ve studied. Maybe hung out with Iris instead while watching shitty movies. Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve.

The kitchen spun — a violent tilt of his world — and Gladio put a hand out on the counter to stabilize himself, blinking a few times. There was no way he’d drunk that much, but that, coupled with the onslaught of emotions, made his stomach churn.

“Woah, you ok? You don’t look so good.”

Before Gladio could respond, before he could even get the words out, a loud commotion commanded both of their attention back outside the kitchen. Normally, parties like this didn’t result in random brawls — at least not ones that needed people to break them up — so Gladio swallowed and forced a smile at Nyx. They were interrupted again by another bout of yelling, partygoers cheering over the havoc.

What on Eos was going . . .

Oh, fuck.

Ignis .

Abandoning his drinks on the counter, and with Nyx right behind him, Gladio rushed to where he’d left Ignis alone with Luche and Tredd, surprised to find they weren’t there anymore. In fact, looking around now, he noticed the room was a lot emptier than he remembered it being before he went to get his drink. Everyone managed to congregate outside where the pool was. Quickly shoving through the throngs of people, Gladio stumbled forward through the front of the crowd and caught the tail end of the scene as it went down, all in slow motion like a movie scene or a bad dream.

Ignis was soaked from what appeared to be Tredd’s red, sugar-laden cocktail all in his hair and down his shirt.

Luche, face hardened and angry, reaching out to grab Ignis by the side of his shirt, swinging him in such a way so that he could push him into the pool they were standing by, ripping the shirt in the process and exposing taut muscle and pale skin.

Ignis failing to grab something to keep him out of the pool, falling in with a loud splash .

The mocking laughter ringing out from everyone watching.

Everyone except Gladio.

When Ignis surfaced, treading water in the deep end of the pool, he somehow managed to catch Gladio’s eyes through the mix of people. It was then that Gladio also noticed that Ignis’ glasses were missing from his face, a sparkle of smashed glass and frames just under Luche’s shoes.

Great. In the span of . . . well, however many minutes Gladio had left, Ignis had become a spectacle for everyone to laugh at, courtesy of his own ‘friends’.

And Gladio knew he had no one to blame but himself.

Frozen, he watched as Ignis carefully made his way to the pool stairs, climbing out as water poured from his pockets, squished from his shoes, and dripped from the torn remains of his shirt. He tried to cover himself up, embarrassed at the brazen display of his chest and stomach, and ignore the catcalls and remarks from rude onlookers.

“Damn, Scientia!” Luche called out, one hand beside his mouth to amplify his words. “Had I known you were hiding all that under your clothes, I would’ve taken you to bed sooner! Lookin’ hot!”

Gladio wasn’t sure who to tend to first: Ignis and his wounded pride as he left the mansion with a slam of the door, or his friends and their lame attempts at having a good time at Ignis’ expense. Choosing the former, Gladio turned to follow after Ignis, ignoring how Nyx stood behind him with a look of shock on his face.

Outside, away from the stifling house party and thumping bass, Gladio ran down the street to a dejected and soaking wet figure a couple of yards away. “Ignis . . . Ignis, wait!”

Ignis stopped but didn’t turn around, his posture straightening as soon as Gladio’s voice echoed down the street. Gladio jogged to catch up, coming around to stand in front of him.

“What? Are you here to gloat? To humiliate me further?”

The words were biting and harsh, but quiet. So quiet. There was a fury in Ignis’ eyes that Gladio had never seen before. Yes, he’d been the target of the guy’s judging stare before, but he’d never been on the receiving end of his anger. Gladio wanted to apologize for something he didn’t do, to let Ignis know he hadn’t meant for things to go this far — whatever that meant — but every half-assed apology died in his throat the minute he opened his mouth.

Finally, he choked out a measly, “What happened?”

Ignis swiped away at the hair that stuck to his forehead. “Oh, you want me to explain what happened? Like I’m supposed to believe that you weren’t complicit in all of this? Like you leaving me alone wasn’t part of this grand plan to ‘put me in my place’ ?”

Gladio held his hands up defensively. “No! No, I . . . fuck, I didn’t . . . well . . . fuck. Ok, yes . . . I did invite you out because . . . well, can you fucking blame me?? You shit all over me during our meeting and made me feel like absolute scum!”

“And that gives you the right to bring me here to lower and debase me in front of all our peers?” he spat, trying again to cover himself with his hands over what his shirt refused to cover anymore.

“No! Well, yes. I mean . . . no! No, I . . . I wanted to tell them not to do anything when I realized this would get bad and —”

“But you didn’t.”

The way Ignis said this — quiet, without a hint of accusation — gutted Gladio. It was the saddest, most heartbreaking tone Gladio had ever heard, like Ignis was right all along in how he viewed Gladio — this heartless monster who would do anything to prove he was better than everyone else. “No,” Gladio whispered, casting his eyes to the ground. “No, I didn’t . . . and I’m really sorry.” Another minute of silence and Gladio offered a paltry, “Can I . . . can I at least take you home?”

“Get in the car with someone who's been drinking all night? Risk my life to assuage your guilt? My dignity may be dead, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep my life and drive myself. I borrowed my parent's car tonight so I’ll manage just fine, thank you. Should be a towel or some sort of blanket in the trunk so I don’t thoroughly soak the seats.”

The dripping of water was making Gladio feel nauseous, a sound that he was beginning to associate with his own shortcomings. Maybe Ignis had been right all along. “Ignis . . . I’m . . . I don’t know what . . . I’m sorry . . .”

Despite the absence of his signature spectacles, Ignis didn’t seem to struggle with his sight. Quite the opposite, he honed right in on Gladio’s amber eyes, his own narrowing. “As am I. Here I thought I would go against my better judgment and extend the olive branch by attending this party. I assumed this invitation was your way of putting aside our differences so we could . . .” Ignis faded off as he searched for the right words. “. . . So we could actually be . . . dare I say, friends? Well, I see I was wrong.”

Ignis didn’t wait for a response or another meager apology before turning to walk away, down the line of cars to an older, beige station wagon. Keys jingled as Ignis found the right one, unlocking the door and sinking into the seat without finding that towel he was so insistent on earlier. Maybe he thought that Gladio had already gone back to the party, or maybe he was so wrought with emotion, but he placed both hands on the steering wheel and leaned his forehead against the tops of his hands in a moment of vulnerability.

Gladio’s stomach twisted and knotted with guilt and self-loathing, the beer settling like liquid lead. Oh, how he wanted to go after Ignis, explain that things got out of hand. How could someone he didn’t get along with — someone he supposedly didn’t care for — make him feel this low?

Running one hand through his hair, Gladio watched on as Ignis took one more deep breath, buckled up, started the engine, and drove away, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.

One step, then another, and Gladio concluded that there was no point in going back to the party. He was pissed off as it was, but Ignis was right — he couldn’t exactly drive home right now. Better to be safe than sorry.

He pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons, opening an app to hail a ride.

Your ride is 7 minutes away .

Gladio sighed, already aware that the worst was yet to come.

Should’ve just stayed home.

Chapter Text

F.

A big, fat, circled-in-red F.

Surprise, surprise.

Gladio knew full well he’d bombed the test before he even finished the damn thing, but seeing it so boldly at the top of the page was painful. He remembered skipping question after question, stumped by each one and hoping the next would be easier. When that didn’t help, he moved onto the essay portion, thinking maybe that would be where he’d hit his stride, allowing his creative writing skills to shine. Not even the bonus question at the end was enough to save him.

He’d barely answered half the questions before time was called, sinking low in his seat as the teacher collected the papers. The self-loathing was strong, a torrent of phrases such as “I’m such a fucking idiot” and “I suck” on repeat in his head for the remainder of the day. If only it were possible to go back and time.

Now, that very test sat on Clarus’ desk, proof of how bad Gladio fucked up. It was the glaring reminder of Saturday night and all the wrong choices he made leading up to Ignis storming out of Nyx’s family mansion. As much as Gladio wanted to tear the test up and forget about its existence, per his teacher’s rules as stated in the syllabus, every failing test needed to be signed by a parent or guardian. No exceptions.

Of course, that meant Gladio had to sit, much like he did as a child when he did something wrong, in the chair in his father’s office, squirming and writhing while he waited for him to say something. Anything. Dear gods, say anything .

The silence was the worst.

As the minutes dragged on, Clarus stared him down with his fingers interlocked on the desk between them; Gladio felt pinned to the chair, unable to move under Clarus’ scrutiny. Finally, Clarus’ voice rumbled in an even, deadly tone. “You assured me you were finished with your studies.”

Gladio shrugged, slouching and picking at his cuticles. He managed a half-hearted grunt that sounded something like ‘I dunno’.

“What’s that, son? You’d better speak up because you have quite a lot of explaining to do. Mumbling your way through this won’t help your cause.”

Taking a chance, he moved from the distraction of his cuticles to see just how angry his father was (as if the steely tone wasn’t a huge indicator), instantly regretting his decision to do so. Seeing that face harden as soon as their eyes met brought on a new wave of guilt. Somehow, Gladio sunk even further into his chair, practically lying down at this point. “Jus’ a party,” he grumbled. “Thought I’d be fine. I ‘unno.”

“Uh-huh. Does this look like you were fine?” His father pointed a rigid finger right at the bold F. “It sure doesn’t look like it to me. Out late? Drinking? Well, I sure hope the party was worth it, Gladiolus, because this is absolutely shameful .”

Gladio thought he’d been careful sneaking back in after the party, tiptoeing past his room with little grace and stealth, but apparently, he’d been wrong. He wasn’t what he would’ve called drunk that night, but he’d been right on the cusp of it and his father knew. “‘T wasn’t.”

“ Speak up. ”

He sighed. “No, Dad. It wasn’t.”

“Mmhmm. It seems that since you fell in with those friends of yours, you've lost sight of who you are. Out late, losing focus . . ."

That wretched clock ticked the seconds away, the only sound punctuating the unbearable silence between the terse scolding Gladio was receiving. There was a pinprick of pain caused by Gladio’s incessant picking at the edges of his nails, and a bead of blood welled at the source of the sting. He didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“Gladiolus, look at me.” When Gladio lifted his head reluctantly, he tried to mask the heaviness he felt with a carefully crafted face of indifference. “You are smarter than this. I know this and I sure hope that you do as well. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. And knowing you also lied to me? This . . . it’s inexcusable. You set yourself up for failure, son. You did this and it cannot happen again, understand?”

The whole, ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ spiel — just what every kid liked to hear from their parents. “Yes, sir.”

Sliding the paper from where it was on the desk, Clarus examined it once more with furrowed brows. Gladio turned away, unable to watch anymore. “I’ll write a letter regarding all of this and see what can be done to save your GPA and academic standing amongst your peers. A meeting would be better, but my schedule is full this week, so a note will have to do.”

Of course, his father was busy. Astrals forbid he take more than five minutes away from work, preferring to lock himself away instead of going to Gladio’s school to help when Gladio needed it most. It was so hard not to take it personally, but Gladio tried. He knew there were bigger things affecting how they were handling this — things they never had control over.

Everything Clarus did these days, all the little movements and the way he pretended things were normal, made Gladio want to scream. If it were possible to shake the man, he would. When he begged the gods above for his father back, having already lost his mother, he meant that he wanted the fun, affable man he once was before the accident — not this shell of his former self.

“I’ll leave the note in your bag to bring to your teacher tomorrow. For now, please go to your room and stay there until Jared calls you for dinner. Whatever homework or studying you have, I want to see it before the end of the night. No going out until I say otherwise. If you can’t manage your social life and your academic life responsibly, then your social life will have to take a backseat for the foreseeable future.”

Gladio sat up, jolted from his blasé attitude by this punishment. No social life? “Oh, come on, that’s not fa—”

The rest of his protest died before it reached his lips. Clarus raised one eyebrow, daring Gladio to say what was on his mind. “Not fair? Not fair ? I would consider that punishment quite generous from me, so I suggest you take it and leave without another word . . . unless you’d like to push your luck and see how much worse it could’ve been.”

It was a battle of restraint at that moment, Gladio gripping the arms of the chair with such ferocity that the tips of his fingers were growing white. He struggled against lashing out, suddenly angry despite all of this happening because of his own doing. No, he didn’t want to see what more his father had up his sleeve— he was quite benevolent at the moment and Gladio knew he was already on thin fucking ice. “No, sir. ”

“Good. Now, go to your room until dinner has been called.

With an indignant grunt, Gladio stood up and stormed away in dramatic fashion, flinging the door open and slamming it behind him. It was uncalled for, sure, but Gladio wasn’t exactly in the mood to be the mature adult his father commanded of him.

How could his father not see that this was just one lapse in judgment? It wasn’t indicative of who Gladio was, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter. He couldn’t seem to get it right with anyone anymore — his father, his friends, Nyx, Ignis.

That night, Gladio ignored each and every time he was called to dinner, appetite lost as he studied until his eyes glazed over.

Pelna (4:47 p.m.) - come on dude! where are you?

Crowe (4:47 p.m.) - srsly youve been quiet

Gladio pushed the phone away, but it immediately vibrated again. Another text in the group chat. And another. And another.

Luche (4:48 p.m.) - is it because you bombed that test? just have your dad threaten to fire the stupid bitch.

Tredd (4:50 p.m.) - hahaha isnt she the hot one?

Pelna (4:53 p.m.) - id do her

Crowe (4:54 p.m.) - you all are gross.

Tredd (4:55 p.m.) - it was a legit question fuck

Luche (4:57 p.m.) - whatever! amicitia, you comin or what?

Pelna (5:00 p.m.) - we’re not waiting forever!

Thumb over the keyboard, Gladio made several attempts to text back but stopped, finally settling for silence on his part. How could he put into words that he was grounded and got a hell of a lucky chance at retaking this test? A chance that he really couldn’t afford to fuck up, no matter what pressure he was under from his friends to just up and leave?

After reading your father’s letter, I must agree; this grade is not like you. How do you expect to make Valedictorian if you choose now to slack off? Is this about your accident? You know my doors are open if you need to talk to anyone, right? The administration knows how hard the last few years have been for you and your family and we . . .

The rest of her words fell away into a monotonous blur, dripping of pity and altruism. Sure, maybe this teacher meant the weight of her words, but Gladio learned soon after his mother’s death that most only said these things because his situation made them uncomfortable. People didn’t handle death well.

Nonetheless, Gladio took the second chance he was so graciously gifted, practically sprinting to the library where he parked himself at an empty table, hidden behind stacks of books and rows of shelves. It was then, after he was settled and ready to begin, that his phone blew up with text messages from his friends, begging for him to come out.

They wouldn’t understand. In their eyes, a failing test meant nothing. To them, Gladio should’ve shrugged off the grade. What did it matter, right? Nothing that some money under the table — or a letter threatening the teacher’s job — couldn’t handle. That wasn’t who Gladio was, though.

Clarus instilled a hard work ethic in Gladio from a young age and that carried right on over to his schoolwork. He never cheated and clocked endless hours with his nose in textbooks. As a result, his GPA and class ranking was one of the highest in his class.

Eventually, the texts died off and Gladio got the peace and quiet he so desperately needed. Earbuds nestled in his ears, music playing loud enough to drown out any further distractions, but quiet enough for Gladio to hear if anyone came up. Not that he was expecting anyone — Luche and the rest of the gang should’ve been long gone by now.

A half hour passed without any interruptions, Gladio flipping through his textbook, looking for the highlighted passage on the ancient healer, Ardyn Lucis Caelum. It was in here somewhere; in fact, he specifically remembered being intrigued by the healer and his time across Eos, traversing lands with his Shield as they treated scores of people afflicted by the horrific Starscourge. Maybe he’d need to stick post-it notes on the edges of the pages so it would be easier to find what he needed. Or, better yet, study harder on this portion of the text instead of daydreaming about leaving this Astrals forsaken city behind

“Gladiolus?”

At first, Gladio thought it was a figment of his imagination. He shook his head and hunched further over his notes, resting his forehead in the crook between his thumb and pointer finger. No one knew he was up here and no one would know to look for him here anyway; at least, he didn’t think anyone would know to look for him here.

A shadow stretched over his work, exaggerated by the sun shining in from a window behind the figure. Moving only his eyes, Gladio stopped himself from flinching.

There, standing in front of the table, was Ignis, bag in hand. He had on a different spare pair of glasses, carefully taped in the middle to keep them together. Gladio’s heart pounded, mouth dry and hands trembling as he took out one earbud and paused his music. “Hey . . .”

What was he doing here? What did he want? Maybe Gladio’s expression intimidated Ignis into silence because he didn’t respond right away. After an uncomfortable ten seconds of nothing, Ignis blinking, Gladio prompted him with a harsh, “Can I help you? Or are you just gonna stand there all day and watch me?”

“Oh, I was on my way out and . . . well . . . I’m surprised to see you here. Never took you for someone to know where the library is.”

What did Gladio expect from Ignis other than more sarcastic jabs and snide remarks? He heaved a loud, aggravated sigh and nestled his earbud back in his ear, moving to press play again. “Listen, if you’re here to let me know, once again, how horrible of a person I am, you can save it. I need to make up this exam that I bombed and I sure as hell don’t need you coming here telling me shit I already know . . . like maybe I don’t deserve this second chance . . . or that I had this coming. Today’s my only chance to really study since I don’t have to pick up my kid sister from her piano lessons, ok? So, please leave me alone so I can get this done.”

He rolled his eyes, the music resuming as he pressed the play button. Pen to paper, determined to shove as much knowledge into his brain as he could to keep his damn ranking, Gladio lowered his head and returned to his textbook. A minute passed by, maybe two, before he realized that Ignis’ presence still loomed before him. Outside his peripheral, a chair was pulled from its spot across from him and only then did Gladio snap his head up.

Ignis sat — not particularly happy or amenable, but not displeased either — and placed his bag in the chair beside him. “Sister? I . . . didn’t know you had a sister.”

Gladio made it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for any of Ignis’ harsh quips, but the guy wasn’t willing to leave so easily. Surrendering to the notion that studying wasn’t in the cards for him right now, Gladio acquiesced and took the same earbud out again, pressing pause on his song. “Yeah. Uh . . . Iris. Her name’s Iris.”

Ignis cocked his head to the side, his words hushed in the quiet atmosphere of the room. “How old is she?”

“She . . . ahhh . . . she just turned ten a few months ago. The big ol’ ‘Double-Digit’ years.” Gladio laughed and shook his head. If there was anyone in the world who could bring a smile to his face just by mentioning their name, it was Iris. For all the shit he’d been through, having to shoulder the caretaker role overnight, the toothy grin that Iris gave him at the end of the day made it all worthwhile. “She thinks she’s so cool now, like she’s not a little kid anymore. She even tried to kick me out of her room a few weeks ago by physically pushing me out. That didn’t go over so well, especially when she realized I had like . . . a good 100 pounds on her and wouldn’t budge.”

That brought a smile to Ignis’ lips — small, but still there. “You’re very fortunate. I’ve always wanted a sibling. Someone to hang out with growing up. I’m technically an only child and it has been . . .” It looked like Ignis wanted to say more, but he stopped short and closed his eyes. The smile came back a moment later as he shifted subjects. “I’ve tutored a student for the last several years now. He’s . . . a handful, if I do say so myself, but I quite like to imagine that he’s almost like a brother to me now and then. Or, at least, I feel like I’m a brother-figure to him. His father is busy, so I try to make sure he’s cared for and does well in his studies.”

This was weird; for the first time, Gladio and Ignis were on the same page about something. “Yeah, I know how that is. My old man’s been busy lately, too. I’m the one who has to make sure Iris gets to her after-school stuff, that she eats all her vegetables, and goes to bed at a decent hour. She’s a good kid, though, so that makes it a little easier. Sometimes, she can be a royal pain in the ass, but I make sure to dish it back to her, too.”

Ignis scooted forward a bit in his chair, leaning in so his whispered voice carried a little farther. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Get your sister to eat her vegetables? The boy I tutor refuses to touch anything green on his plate! It’s maddening !”

Gladio laughed. “Oh, believe me, it’s a struggle! On the nights where I don’t feel like putting up a huge fight, I’ll just promise her some ice cream or a cupcake when she’s done. Other than that, it’s like pulling teeth!” He shook his head, smirking. “Pretty sure she gets her stubbornness from . . . from our mom.”

If there was an awkward beat, Ignis didn’t seem to notice. He settled back in his chair, removing the glasses from his face and wiping the lenses on the hem of his shirt. Great care was taken to not rip the two halves from where the tape held them together, but Ignis managed to remove any smudges successfully and replace the frames on the bridge of his nose. Seeing them close up brought a wave of nausea through Gladio, another reminder of the debacle that was Nyx’s party.

The elephant in the room needed to be addressed. Gladio would understand completely if Ignis wanted nothing more to do with him, but here he was, sitting across from him like things were ok. That had to count for something. “Ignis . . . about Saturday night . . . I really am —”

“Please don’t. It’s alright,” Ignis interrupted, holding a hand up to stop Gladio mid-sentence. “It was an argument of sorts that got out of hand. I’d like to just forget about it.”

A pause of silence, and then, “Well . . . I can’t . . .” Gladio faded off, hands in fists and teeth clenched tight as hazy memories of that night returned. The sounds of splashing water, the haughty look of a red-headed guy who had never known what it felt like to be bullied, the torn fabric and sadness Ignis wore so plainly when he stood toe-to-toe with Gladio — it all came rushing back; a tidal wave of sensations and emotions washing over him so hard and fast, it was enough to physically hurt his heart. “I can’t forget about it. It’s all I thought about all weekend. I was angry at you for all the shit you said on Friday and I wanted to teach you a lesson, but not like that. Honestly, I didn't even have a plan, you know? But then I left you, and came back to that and . . . My friends are assholes . . . I’m an asshole . . . and I’m . . . fuck, I’m so sorry.  I dunno . . . as much as we dislike each other, you didn’t deserve that. You never deserved that.”

The words were hard to choke out, but Gladio meant them — really and truly meant them. There were no selfish, ulterior motives behind his regrets. Nothing was said in hopes that Ignis would laugh the whole situation off. In fact, Gladio hadn’t expected much of anything from him, burying his face in his hands rather than looking Ignis in the eyes as he apologized.

“You’re not an asshole.”

Gladio parted his fingers, expecting to find Ignis sneering back at him. This had to be a joke. There was no way those words just passed his lips. But, there was no sneer. No smug sense of superiority. Not even a trace of sarcasm. Instead, Gladio came face-to-face with a very serious and sincere Ignis.     

All the anger and frustration Gladio held onto toward Ignis, the palpable judgment and disapproving glares, melted away. They were having a moment — not a big one, but something strong enough to knock down some of the walls they’d erected between each other. His heart skipped a beat — maybe two — and his mouth went drier than the Leide Desert. “C’mon, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. An asshole —” The word sounded almost ridiculous coming from Ignis’ pristine mouth. “ — wouldn’t bear this much guilt days later the way you have. An asshole would’ve stayed at that party instead of chasing after me. Yes, your friends fit the bill quite well, but I can assure you that you certainly are not an asshole.”

Gladio snorted. Ignis was far too kind. “Sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell in that pool? You never seemed to mind thinkin’ I was an asshole before.”

“And you never would’ve deigned to give me the time of day, so I’d say we’ve both had an epiphany of sorts over the weekend. We’ve had a rocky start, but I see no reason for us to dwell on the past much further.”

Gladio opened his mouth, ready to agree and make amends, but Ignis glanced at the watch on his wrist and held back a curse. “I’m late for picking up that student of mine. Apologies, but I must go.” He reached for his bag and stood up, pushing the chair back in under the desk. “Good luck on your makeup exam. By the looks of things, it seems you’ll be just fine. Also . . .” He paused, a genuine grin reaching his eyes, lighting them up with a joy Gladio had never seen before. “Thank you.”

His heartfelt thanks caught Gladio off guard. “Thank you? Why are you thanking me? I didn’t do anything.”

“But you did . You could’ve left the table as soon as I walked over, or you could’ve asked me to leave you alone, but instead, you allowed me to sit with you and open the lines of communication. It was nice to have a conversation with you that didn’t end in either one of us wanting to strangle the other . . . that’s all.”

It was true. Gladio realized right then that talking with Ignis was actually nice, which was more than he could say about talking with any of his other friends these days. He felt like his words were listened to for once. Even stranger was how Gladio longed for more.

Wait a minute.

Longing for conversation? With Ignis ?

Honestly, at this point, Gladio didn’t care. Having someone to gripe to about life’s inconveniences, an impartial ear to vent to, would be nice. It was just an added bonus that the person would be his project partner — killing two birds with one stone type of thing. All friendships had to start somewhere, right?

“Hey, Ignis?” he called out, stopping him from leaving. “Maybe we could get together sometime this week and . . . I dunno? Start over on this project of ours?”

Ignis quirked an eyebrow, playful and mischievous. “I suppose I could pencil you in. There’s no reason why we can’t reconvene in the next day or so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Gladio couldn’t help it — a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, mirroring Ignis’. “Awesome, sounds good. We’ll talk soon?”

“Yes, we’ll talk.” One last nod, a confirmation that things were finally ok between them, and Ignis walked away, disappearing around the corner of shelves as quietly as he did when he first appeared.

As a renewed sense of motivation surged through him, prompted by the friendly and very unexpected encounter with Ignis, Gladio tapped his phone awake and put his earbuds back in his ear, pressing play on his application and ready to take on his studies.

Later that week, Gladio’s makeup test came back to him with a 96% and a ‘Great Job!’ at the top of the page.

The grade itself was gratifying, but what made Gladio even happier, for reasons he couldn’t explain, was hearing Ignis say, “Congratulations,” when he showed him the test at their next meeting.

Chapter Text

“What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Hm?”

“You know, like what do you do for fun? Got any hobbies? Anything?”

“Well . . .”

“You’ve gotta have something you do for fun outside of work and school.”

“If you’re asking, I guess I do enjoy cooking.”

“Cooking? That’s . . . random . . .”

“No, it’s not. It’s something I picked up while tutoring my charge.”

“Got a favorite dish you like to make?”

“Nothing special. Oyakodon, grilled fish, ramen, dishes that my charge craved. I’ve also tried dabbling in baking, but I’ll need some time and practice to perfect it. What about you? What do you do to pass the time?”

“Pass the time? That’s an odd way of wording it. If you mean, ‘what do I do to have fun,’ I would say read and drink on occasion.”

“The entire school knows about your alcohol consumption, so that’s not exactly newsworthy. But, reading?”

“What, didn’t think I could?”

“No, I never said that. I’ve never seen you with a book in your hand, that’s all.”

“Oh . . . I thought you were being mean.”

“If I was being mean, you’d know.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Be that as it may, perhaps you would be so kind as to suggest some of your favorites for me to read? In return, I’d be happy to give you a recipe or two for you to try. Or, if you have a recipe your family loves, I’d be willing to trade a meal for those novels. That is . . . if you’d like?”

“There is one recipe that we used to eat years ago . . . yeah, I’d say that’s a fair trade.”

“Well then, it’s settled. One day when we get some free time, we’ll delve deeper into each other’s hobbies.”

“Deal.”

They weren’t best friends, but they were trying. It would've been naive to think that three long years of high school, always assuming the absolute worst about each other, could be undone overnight. In Gladio's case, he occasionally caught himself rolling his eyes at Ignis’ Type-A personality ( “For fuck’s sake, Ignis! Could you calm down? This project isn’t due tomorrow!” ). Ignis, on the other hand, didn’t take too kindly to the low-maintenance way Gladio approached things.

Eh. It was a work in progress.

That being said, things improved by leaps and bounds since the day they exchanged apologies in the library. Their conversations started out terse, stilted and awkward as they stumbled through what it was they should talk about. Where could they possibly begin when they were both so afraid to rock the shaky foundation they’d started to build? Well, the project was a great jumping point, and they used that to guide them.

Ignis wasn’t as bad as Gladio first thought. He had a dry sense of humor, quick with his wit in such a way that it often caught Gladio by surprise. They laughed more as they got to know each other better — more than Gladio had in a long while. It was that type of laughter where no noise came out anymore, faces turning red as they struggled to catch their breaths.

Just because things were on the mend between them didn’t mean that their lives outside of the project were any different. Gladio continued to catch shit from his friends, always the butt of their jokes as they ragged on him for having to be near Scientia . He knew the right thing should’ve been that he stand up for himself for once, but, sadly, he went along with it behind Ignis’ back like a fucking coward.

Gladio tried to reason with himself that they never agreed on being friends in public. One step at a time. They could be friends in private, away from the ridicule and mockery from everyone, so long as they acted like they hated each other the rest of the time. That was good enough, right?

What it boiled down to was keeping up appearances. That was all. Even though they got along quite well as the days went on, Gladio couldn’t afford to besmirch his image with everyone else to play the White Knight to Ignis, just like Ignis couldn’t afford to cheapen his own reputation as the intellectual by admitting he didn’t exactly hate the supposed meathead that was Gladiolus Amicitia.

Desperate to avoid the teasing while still not at the point of wanting to meet off campus, Gladio and Ignis defaulted to using the study hall period they had together, holed up and hidden away from the stares and the whispers in an unused back corner of the Hall. Gladio tried to deny it at first, the shifting of his sentiments from raw hatred to something almost . . . nice. As time went on, and even though they had a lot of ground to cover in getting to know each other, Gladio found that talking to Ignis was effortless. It was light. It held an air of freedom away from the oppression Gladio felt elsewhere. Yes, they had their differences still, but what friendship didn’t?

All in all, these meetings were becoming the highlight of Gladio’s week.  

Up until now, they'd only gathered some notes on each other but hadn't begun work on the actual report itself. Today, they’d take those notes and piece together some preliminary aspects of their report. Nothing big or fancy, just something to gauge what it was they were up against.

They walked side by side, weaving through the tables and chairs to their spot. A few times they had to mumble their apologies as they bumped and nudged against students whose books were spread out over entire table surfaces, grimacing over the fact that they disturbed their studies for a split millisecond.

Once they reached their destination, Gladio and Ignis placed their bags down and sat across from each other.

“We’ll waste our time if we don’t at least draw out an outline together. This project is a large percentage of our grade, so I’d suggest we start there,” Ignis reasoned, always the planner.

“An outline? Really, Ignis? It’s a paper about who we are, not a fucking university thesis. Look, we have the notes. We have the rest of the year. Why don’t we just keep doing what we’re doing and write the damn thing as we go?”

“And risk anything less than an A? Absolutely not.”

Gladio frowned, one hand held up as if to further convey his reluctance to this idea. “You’re joking.”

“Does my face give you the impression that I’m anything but serious?”

“Uh . . . don’t you always look like that?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

Gladio could’ve picked a fight and probably won his case, but Ignis was dead set on this idea, judging by the fact that he was already in his bag for his things. Pick and choose your battles, Gladio thought, biting his tongue as he chose to distract himself by finding his notes, a writing utensil, and his headphones in his bag.

If Ignis wanted to work independently today, as he heavily implied with the outline talk and the way he pulled his own headphones out of his bag, then Gladio would need some tunes to get him through the unbearable silence of the hall. He always focused better with music playing.  

Ignis was already writing things down, his finger sliding up and down the page as he searched his ‘Gladio Notes’ for similar thoughts and ideas to group together. Gladio stopped his search, caught up in watching Ignis as he lost himself in his writing.

That happened a lot lately, the staring when Ignis was preoccupied with something else. Gladio didn’t know why Ignis was such a fascinating person to watch, but . . . fuck. Was it the way the fringes of his bangs brushed along the tops of his eyebrows, ash-blonde (or was it brown?) strands swooping across his forehead? Or maybe how he pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, careful to avoid the tape that kept the two halves together? No, it had to be the way that Ignis flicked his eyes up to meet his, emerald and piercing . . . but no longer angry. Still harsh, yes, but not angry.

That was nice.

Ok, stop. Focus. Get your shit and start working, Amicitia.

Focus. Yes. Ok. Pay attention.

Notebook? Check.

Pen? Check.

Headphones? Headphones? Where the fuck were his headphones?

Gladio shifted his bag, angling it toward the natural light pouring in through the windows. Strange. They were usually right here, either in the side pocket or in the bottom corner as a tangled mess. He knew he should just get the damn wireless ones, but he kept putting it off for one reason or another. It was never an issue of money — he could go online right now and buy several pallets of the top-of-the-line wireless headphones and have them next-day shipped to his house — but Gladio just couldn’t let go of these wired ones.

Oh, there was that apple he meant to eat yesterday, underneath a notebook and his favorite novel.

He pushed aside a few crumpled pieces of paper, brushing his fingertips along the bottom of the bag, and almost got to the point of dumping everything out on the desk he and Ignis were sitting at. “Where the fuck are they?”

Ignis scowled and narrowed his eyes, scandalized by the brazen use of the word ‘fuck’. “Where are what , Gladiolus?”

He wasn’t quick to respond, ignoring Ignis in favor of seeking out those elusive earbuds. How frustrating it was to remember the exact moment he last had them, knowing he dropped them in the bag to listen to his music with later. Or, maybe he left them in his locker? Shit, scratch that — he actually had no idea where he’d last left them. It looked like buying those wireless headphones were inevitable at this point.

“Gladio!”

It wasn’t the stern tone in Ignis’ voice that stopped him, though that didn’t exactly go unnoticed either. For the first time, whether on purpose or completely by accident, Ignis called him something other than his full name.

He actually called him . . . well . . . Gladio .

Gladio had heard the nickname more times than he could count throughout his life, but it was the way Ignis said it, his accent morphing it in such a way that it sounded brand new. How could a name he’d gone by his whole life sound like a name he’d never heard before?

Gladio needed to know if he’d heard correctly and that it wasn’t some crazy, out-of-nowhere fever dream. “You . . . just called me . . .”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, the dawning realization of what happened apparent on Ignis’ face before he could get the words out. “Don’t be so daft,” Ignis recovered, covering his mouth with his fingers while rolling his eyes. “Your name is a mouthful and demands a shortened version. It was bound to happen.”

“You are such a stubborn ass,” Gladio laughed, the hunt for his headphones briefly forgotten. “You’ve always gone out of your way to enunciate every fucking syllable of my name, just to prove a point whenever you’re pissy with me. Admit it — you consider me a friend and you gave me a nickname because that’s what friends do.”

“Hush. That’s enough.” The speed at which Ignis’ face changed from pale to crimson — flushed cheeks looked good on him — could’ve qualified as a new world record. “As I was saying, what is it you’re looking for? Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”

Oh yeah, the headphones. Grumbling under his breath, Gladio conceded defeat and tossed his bag, along with everything else he pulled out from it, to the side. “My fucking earbuds are gone. I swear, I put them right here and they’re not here. They’re gone.”

Gladio could see the gears turning in Ignis’ head. He half-wondered if he would retort back with some smartass comment. Maybe you should take better care of your things, he’d say. If you truly valued them, you would’ve put them in a safe place. You have no one to blame but yourself.

Something like that

Instead, Ignis’ slender fingers pinched the cord of one of his own headphones, offering it up to Gladio with the most innocent of expressions on his face. “If you’re ok with listening to my music, I have no issues with letting you share the other half of my headphones. I’m not sure that we listen to the same genre of music, but the offer is there.”

Gingerly, Gladio reached out to take what was given to him. “Oh, damn. Yeah, that would be awesome. Are you sure?”

“No, I don’t mind. If you don’t find the songs to your taste, it won’t hurt my feelings if you choose to work in silence instead.”

A quick assessment drew the conclusion that, from where they sat across from each other, the headphones would barely reach across the table to their ears. “Do you . . . uh . . . do you mind if I —”

Ignis knew, without hearing the rest of Gladio’s request, what it was he was asking and responded with an overabundance of generosity. “Of course! Yes, sorry. Here you go!” Ignis pulled his bag from the seat beside him, making room for Gladio to come around to the same side of the table. Once sat, Ignis angled his phone in between them, the cord of the headphone now slackened enough so they could both listen to the music. While Ignis was ready to go, pens and papers and notes on Gladio spread out in front of him, Gladio was still trying to get organized. He waved Ignis on without him, opening his notebook to the first clean page he came across.

Finally. Good to go.

Only then did Gladio place the earbud in his ear.

Looking at Ignis, he expected the guy to listen to classical 24/7/365. Maybe some jazz. Hell, he’d even assumed he listened to world news on repeat. Stuffy, boring Ignis probably turned his nose up at anything else. What he heard when he put the earbud in was not at all what Gladio inferred from him.

The steady strum of a bass guitar. A female vocalist, her voice as beautiful as it was sharp and demanding. The song starting out quiet before crescendoing into a cacophony of percussion and guitars as the singer screamed of loneliness and despair — of hiding emotions from the world and burying feelings deep down.  

When the last note played, Gladio’s brows knitted together. The melody and the song itself was great, yes, but the lyrics drew Gladio in. The theme of needing music and sound to fill the void that the singer felt was one that he could relate to all too well. “Good song,” he mumbled, moving his pen across the paper several times without actually putting a mark on the page.

Ignis responded without a passing glance in Gladio’s direction, already halfway down the page with words and notes that he’d eventually rewrite onto his laptop’s word document. “Yes, one of my favorites.”

“Seems kinda dark. Funny you choose that song as one of your favorites.” Gladio chewed on the top of his pen. “Why’s that?”

Ignis shrugged, defensive. Gladio was ready to drop the subject, afraid that this was something they weren’t friendly enough to discuss yet. Then, Ignis said, “Music has the ability to tell a story. It puts into words what I’m simply unable to at times.”

“Huh? You? You always seem like you have the words and answers for everything.”

“Not always, but I appreciate the sentiment. Honestly, it’s nice to not feel like I’m the only one who feels what I feel. Sometimes silence can be deafening, so I put my music on to . . . to . . .”

“Feel something?”

Ignis looked up, his eyes a fraction wider than normal before settling back into the cat-like piercing gaze Gladio was accustomed to seeing. “Exactly,” Ignis whispered, almost too quiet for Gladio to catch at first.

He was always so busy, running around from one extracurricular to the next. His hectic schedule was one of the first things they discussed when taking the tentative steps to becoming friends. How could they not when it became abundantly clear that it was Ignis’ schedule they’d have to work around: track and field, piano lessons every Tuesday and Thursday, university classes so he could get a head start on his college credits, tutoring, dancing lessons (and when Gladio asked why Ignis needed to take dancing lessons, all he received in return was a hollow laugh), all while maintaining stellar grades.

Gladio wanted to ask. He was curious to know why Ignis chose those words and why he felt the need to express himself through his music. Instead, he said, “What other songs do you have on that playlist of yours?”

“Hm? Oh! You want me to . . . I can add you to the playlist if you’d like. If you’re truly interested, that is.”

Gladio had to admit that learning about Ignis was actually fun. If he had to listen to the same music as him to peel back the next layer in the onion that was Ignis, he would. “I mean if it’s not too much trouble. You don’t have to.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I just need your . . . well, I need your username to find and request you as . . . a friend.”

“Sheesh, don’t sound too thrilled about that concept.”

Ignis looked alarmed. “It’s not that. I’d rather not feel like you’ve been put into a position where you feel obligated to say and do things for the sake of keeping our working relationship peaceful.”

A wry smile twisted the corners of Gladio’s lips and he shook his head. “Fuck, Ignis. You still think the worst of me, dontcha? I literally asked about the playlist. If I didn’t care or if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m not doin’ it to please you, so you can wipe that thought right out of that head of yours, ok?”

Gladio tapped a few times on his phone, navigating his way over to where his profile name and picture was on the same music app that Ignis had. Ignis took the invitation to add Gladio without any more protest, leaning over to ensure he spelled Gladio’s name correctly before hitting the ‘Request User’ button.

“See? Was that so hard?”

“No, it was about as painful as a root canal.”

The sarcasm was not lost on Gladio and he snorted, accepting the request as soon as the notification appeared along the top of his phone. “A sense of humor. I like that.”

“Sometimes a sense of humor is all we have to get us through the day.” Ignis pressed play on his screen and then the arrow button to put the same song on again. “That, and our music.”

“Gladdy!! I don’t want asparagus! It’s gross!”

Gladio closed his eyes and sighed, his back to Iris as he manned the stove. Jared had the night off, mentioning something about going to see his grandson in the school play tonight. Of course, that meant that Gladio had to hurry to pick Iris up from ballet as soon as he was done with Ignis, rush home so they could get their homework done, and then make dinner.

He had the playlist open on his phone, next to him on the counter, music cast from the device to the speakers set up around the house. Gladio had been listening to Ignis’ music on repeat since they parted ways. The common themes for this playlist — and there were other playlists, but Gladio saw this one was the one used the most — seemed to be loneliness. Running away. Longing for companionship. Desertion. They were great songs, but the pattern was there, clear for anyone actually paying attention.

“ GLADDY !!!”

Her shrieking brought him right back to Eos. “What, Iris? What do you want then, huh? We’re not having cupcakes, no matter how many times you beg for them. This is dinner, ok? You don’t like it? Go to bed hungry.”

Gladio knew the telltale signs of her temper tantrums and braced himself. First, she’d stomp her feet. Then, she’d whine. To top it all off, she’d scream and cry that Gladio was the meanest brother and that he wasn’t Dad.

“Ugh! That’s not fair !! You’re not dad, so why should I have to listen to you?”

“You have to listen to me because dad’s at work and I’m in charge. Take it up with him if you don’t like it.”

Her tiny feet kicked and she whined the most annoying of sounds, high-pitched and ear-piercing enough to almost shatter glass and rupture Gladio’s eardrum. “I. DON’T. WANT. ASPARAGUS. AND TURN YOUR STUPID MUSIC OFF, IT’S ANNOYING!”

Instead of giving in to her demands, he turned it up louder and did a silent victory dance when she huffed and puffed one more time before stomping away. “YOU’RE SO UNFAIR. I’M TELLING DAD.”

“I’ll call you when the food is done!” he yelled over his shoulder, chuckling when she screamed back that she hated him.

Now that she was gone, Gladio turned the music down to where it was before. The food still needed time to cook, so he was free to take in the music lyrics without any distractions. The strum of the bass guitar from the earlier song echoed in his mind, like an addiction he couldn’t outrun if he tried. It begged to be listened to again.

Who was Gladio to deny himself that request? One hip against the counter, the aroma of dinner wafting throughout the kitchen, he scrolled through the hundreds of songs until he found the one he had stuck in his head. “Bingo.”

When it was over, he pressed back to listen to it again. Again and again, over and over, stopping only to move dinner from the stove to cool before eating.

Ignis never lost his cool. To him, everything had a place and he was methodical in his approach to whatever he did. It was no accident that the music he curated had the same theme to it throughout, and Gladio wondered if getting those headphones today was more than a kind gesture on Ignis’ part.

Ok, so maybe the guy was just lonely, lacking in friends. Gladio understood that. He knew what it felt like to be in a crowded room, surrounded by people, but still unable to escape the persistent feeling of seclusion. It was high school — everyone felt, in some way, shape, or form, alone.

Whatever it was, whatever Ignis had going on in his own life, he did a great job at pretending like things were ok. He was still the most confusing and maddening individual Gladio had ever met. Seriously, understanding Ignis and breaking down the walls he built around himself was tougher than breaking into the Niflheim bases . . . or so he’d heard.

“What are you hiding?” Gladio mumbled, leaning on the counter with his chin in his hand.

Appetite waning, but still in the mood for something, he packed the food he’d made for dinner into a few Tupperware containers, stacking them neatly in the fridge before cleaning up his mess. The last thing he wanted was to hear Jared chastise him in the morning for not doing so.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, fingers tapping at the banister. Despite just yelling at Iris for wanting dessert for dinner, he was seriously craving some ice cream now. Eh, what the hell — it was one night. Just one night. They both deserved it. “Iris! Come on, let’s go!”

Her tiny head poked out of her room, face scrunched and pouty. “Where? I told you I don’t want your stupid food!”

“Let’s get ice cream.”

She wasn’t expecting that, but Gladio hid his smile as she went from suspicious to eager, unable to contain her excitement. “Really?!”

“Yes, really. Now, hurry up before I change my mind.”

Iris had never obeyed a command faster in her life, a new spring in her step as she grabbed her jacket from somewhere in her bedroom and barrelled down the stairs, all teeth in her grin. “You’re the best! Can I get whatever I want?”

He playfully rolled his eyes and exaggerated a sigh, ruffling her hair. “I guess! You just can’t tell Dad, alright? This’ll be our secret tonight.”

It was the best decision Gladio made. Iris laughed a lot, sneaking spoonfuls of Gladio’s mint ice cream after she’d finished her bright blue cotton candy-flavored abomination (“Gods, Iris, that looks disgusting !”). They joked about relatives they hadn’t seen in years, poked fun at each other, and talked about their day as if their tiff at dinnertime never happened. It was enough to get his mind off of things for the time being. No death. No car accident. No absent dad or ex-flings or fake friends or Ignis.

Clarus’ vehicle still wasn’t in the driveway when they got home, making it easy to sneak in and pretend like they both didn’t just skip over dinner and jump right into dessert.

“Thanks, Gladdy,” Iris said, hugging him the best she could around his midsection.”I needed that tonight.”

“Same here, kiddo.” He wrapped his arms around her small frame, straining as he stooped lower to accommodate his height to hers. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

It was funny how time seemed to fly much faster now that Gladio had Ignis in his life. Things didn’t feel as bleak or daunting and Gladio couldn’t help but think that Ignis had a hand in that shift.

Before Gladio knew it, the leaves changed and eventually fell from their branches, littering the sidewalks and crunching under boots. The air chilled and biting gusts of wind blew through the city, nipping at the cheeks and noses of everyone. Outfits became layered, coats and jackets and scarves becoming commonplace. Days grew shorter and nights grew longer.

The changing of the seasons also ushered in the dreaded midyear exams, the last obstacle to hurdle over before taking time off for Winter Break. Now more than ever, seniors were expected to buckle down and concentrate on squeezing out every last stellar grade they could for their finalized GPA — as if gearing up for university wasn’t stressful enough for everyone.

In between learning more about each other — still superficial things like favorite colors, TV shows, least favorite chore around the house — Gladio and Ignis had also taken to studying with each other in their corner. It made sense, really; they were spending time together as it was, so why not lean on each other to get through exams? Even better was how in sync they’d become, seamlessly passing notes, flash cards, and writing utensils back and forth without a  single word spoken between them.

And, ok, if Gladio was completely honest, he enjoyed the view of Ignis in front of him, blissfully unaware of how attractive and distracting he was.

The best kind of distraction.

Every time Gladio managed to steal little glances of Ignis when he was sure he wasn’t looking, it sent a shiver down his spine. Gone was the uptight, pinched face that Gladio knew for so long, replaced with someone that seemed . . . well . . . human. A human whose company Gladio enjoyed.

A lot.

If he watched Ignis for too long, though, Gladio would find himself spiraling down a dark hole of all-consuming guilt and self-loathing. How had he gone his entire high school career thinking Ignis to be such a dick? What if he’d gotten to know him sooner? Would things have turned out differently for him? For Ignis? Dwelling on it for too long made the bile rise and burn in his chest and throat, a physical manifestation of the guilt he still carried with him.

So, he pushed the blame he placed on himself aside in favor of more pleasing thoughts instead.

Like the way Ignis laughed — or, more specifically, how Gladio found that he had a way of making Ignis laugh.

Or, the way he mouthed the words on his paper as he reread them silently to himself, so focused on what he was doing.  

That amused quirked corners of his lips when he was feeling particularly hubristic.

Yeah, those thoughts were much better. Those were the thoughts that grounded Gladio when he needed it most.

Today, as Gladio ran from his class to the Hall where Ignis was no doubt already waiting for him, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Once. Twice. Several more times.

“Fucking Luche . . .” he groaned, eyes rolling toward the ceiling as he slowed to pull the phone out. Gladio clicked the button to wake up the screen, poised to turn down whatever offer of alcohol, drugs, or party the guy had to offer.

Gladio would’ve infinitely preferred that hypothetical text to the one he was reading right now on his screen. All the joy deflated from his entire being as he continued to read the messages.

Dad (3:02 p.m.) - Gladiolus, I will need you to pick up your sister this afternoon.

Dad (3:03 p.m.) - I understand this is short notice, but a hold-up at work has me staying late tonight.

Dad (3:05 p.m.) - Also, Jared won’t be by until later this evening to make dinner, so please make sure your things are picked up before he comes over.

Gladio was always told well in advance when he was responsible for picking Iris up, and honestly, he had no problem being the one to do so. He loved Iris with every fiber of his being and would drive to Niflheim to get her if he had to, risking life and limb to make sure she got home just fine. It was just the whole ‘last-minute’ part of this whole thing that angered him, his father acting like this was the first time ever he’d stayed late at work.

It tore Gladio apart knowing he’d find Ignis at their table, see those haunting green eyes behind those forever-broken glasses, and have tell him that they’d have to reschedule. Gladio always looked forward to seeing Ignis these days, so he figured the foul mood this put him in was just because he wouldn’t get to see his friend. Dejected and understandably pissed, he growled a slew of curse words as he dragged his feet the rest of the way to the Hall.

The gods had a wicked bad sense of humor.

Fuck, the dread of having to cancel on Ignis was building with every passing step. He could’ve texted him and saved himself the heartache; it wasn’t like they didn’t have each other’s numbers. But, for whatever reason, Gladio wanted to see him, even if it was for five minutes. Wanted to tell him in person.

Funny how they hated each other only months before.

As he entered the Study Hall, seeing the dark and gloomy clouds of the winter sky outside the Hall’s windows didn't help Gladio’s mood any — it just made it worse. It made everyone's mood worse. Bags of exhaustion and stress hung under the eyes of all the students, each one more tired than the last as Gladio wove through the aisles of tables and people. Coffee, pills, and energy drinks were a staple on each desk and table, alongside scattered textbooks and notes.

“Hey, Ignis . . . I —” Rounding the corner, Gladio stopped dead in his tracks. Since the night of that party , Gladio had gotten to know Ignis with broken spectacles. Before that, he knew him as the kid with the coke-bottle glasses, rims too big and thick for his face — hiding his handsome features, sharp and beautiful all the same.  

Imagine his surprise when he came face-to-face with Ignis — sleek, new, frameless glasses replacing his old, damaged ones.

Fuck, even that smile that Ignis flashed him when he saw Gladio was dangerous. Devastating. Addicting. “Gladio! There you are!”

A slew of questions raced through his mind, but Gladio could only stutter out one simple, blatant observation. “You . . . you got new glasses.”

Ignis blinked, cocking his head. He must’ve also gotten used to the old pair of glasses because it took a minute to understand Gladio’s surprise. “Oh, yes, I did!” He removed them from his face, studying them with a proud grin. “I managed to pool my money from the overtime that I worked, tutoring my charge and taking care of him after school. It took a while, but I finally bought the ones I’d been eyeing for some time now.”

Gladio narrowed his eyes, confused. What was Ignis talking about? “Pool your money? You go to the most expensive school in Insomnia. Couldn’t your parents pay for it or something?”

Somehow that struck a sensitive nerve in Ignis. Was that hurt on his face? Regret? Sadness?

Gladio didn’t think he said anything offensive or off-color, but maybe he had? As he opened his mouth to clarify his question, Ignis beat him to it by clearing his throat and placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. When he looked back up at Gladio, it was almost as if Gladio imagined the whole thing. Maybe he did. Whatever hurt that Gladio thought he saw in Ignis’ eyes were gone and he smiled at the sly wink Ignis gave him. “So? How do they look? And be honest, I can handle it.”

“You look —” Gladio stifled a cough with a fist, shy at the prospect of being put on the spot. Yes, he looked good. Better than good. Great. Amazing. Better than he’d ever looked before. Dammit, what was happening ? Gladio couldn’t even look Ignis in the eyes anymore, his face heated and flushed. “You look good. Great. They look good on you. The glasses are good.”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Despite Gladio’s embarrassment, Ignis seemed to find humor in the exchange. “Is it safe to say that they look ‘good’?”

“Shut it.” Gladio ignored the chuckle from Ignis. He was here for a reason, remember? This wasn’t time for fun and games. Hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder, Gladio sighed and shuffled his feet with nervous anticipation. He was making this harder than it had to be. Why? It was just him telling Ignis that he needed to pick up his sister. No big deal. Get over it. “I actually . . . I’m really fucking sorry, but I’m gonna have to cancel.”

“Cancel? Is everything alright?” Ignis’ eyes widened with worry and he sat upright in his chair.

Whoops, maybe that wasn’t the right lead-in to canceling their meeting. Gladio held a hand up to placate the situation. “Yeah, things are fine. Well . . . sorta. Ok, if I’m being honest, our butler isn’t able to pick up my sist — Iris — up from her piano lessons, so I have to go get her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that . . .” Ignis sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, nodding sincerely. “Yes, she comes first.”

Gladio bit the side of his cheek, unsure. Unwilling. Aggrieved. He really didn’t want to go, but yes, Iris did come first. “I’m so sorry, man. Really, I am. We can . . . uh . . . reschedule or something? I dunno . . . I hate that I wasted your time today when you have so much other shit to do.”

Tapping his pen on the desk, mouth twisted in thought, Ignis considered his options carefully before speaking. The longer the silence went on, the more convinced Gladio was that he disappointed Ignis. Then, Ignis said, “Or . . . if I may? Perhaps I could accompany you?”

“Huh?”

Ignis reaffirmed what Gladio thought he heard with a nod. “Maybe we could move our project outside of these four walls if you’re willing? It’s one thing to learn about each other by our words alone, but getting to experience the day-to-day routine we go through? I find that to be a far better learning experience, don’t you?”

While one half of Gladio screamed for him to accept the proposition — because any time with Ignis lately was better than time spent alone — the other half taunted him, convinced that Ignis would no longer want to hang out with him if he knew who he really was. “That’s nice and all, but I’d really hate to hold you up. You have a million other things to do besides tagging along. Not only that, but my personal life is boring as fuck. I’m not sure what you think I do when I leave here, but I promise it’s literally just me going home, taking care of Iris, and passing the time until I need to go to sleep.”

Ignis was already packing up his things by the middle of Gladio’s response, his mind clearly made up. He waved a hand in the air as he shoved another book into his bag. “It’s alright. Truly, I don’t mind at all . . . that is, if you don’t?” Ignis looked up, words fading into quiet uncertainty as he assessed Gladio over the rims of his glasses.

“No . . . I mean, yes. I mean, no! I want you to see my life and shit, but . . .”

“Oh . . . oh, is it because you’d have to drive me home? That’s it, isn’t it? I apologize, I didn’t mean for this to be more of a problem than it already is.” Ignis slowly reached back in and pulled his books back out, trying to save face. “I am amenable to rescheduling like you first requested.”

“Fuck, Ignis; you know I’d give you a ride home, too. It’s not like I’d leave you high and dry without a way home, despite what you may think.” By the looks of things, Ignis was pulling back, wounded by Gladio’s reluctance. If Gladio really wanted for Ignis to join him this afternoon, he’d have to act fast before Ignis changed his mind altogether. “I want you to come with me, but I . . . I don’t want to disappoint you or crush any ideas you have about me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. I just worry, I guess. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression that you’re not welcome. I do want you to come with me and I do want you to meet my sister.”

“It’s alright, Gladio.” Ignis wasn’t convinced. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s not an imposition ,” Gladio ground out through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure?”

Wow, this was annoying. Gladio snarled, his patience wearing thin with their back and forth. “Look, I ain’t gonna stand around here all day. You wanna come, or not?”

“I mean . . . if you want?”

“I’m asking you.”

“And I’m asking you .”

“Holy fucking shit, you’re the worst .” Gladio threw his head back to the ceiling, sighing at no one in particular. “If we’re gonna go, then we better head out soon. Study Hall is your last period, right?”

This time, Ignis didn’t object. “Yes.”

Flicking his wrist so he could see the time on his watch, Gladio pursed his lips and mentally calculated the time he had left to get to Iris. “Alright, well if you wanna come with, I’ll go grab my car and meet you around the side of the building in ten. Sound good?”

Gladio didn’t expect a response. He knew Ignis would be waiting for him, but despite the hunch, he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high. The painful pitter-patter of his heart thudding against his chest was evidence of his skepticism.

Guess he’d find out for sure in ten minutes.

It was difficult to mask the smile that tried to worm its way onto Gladio’s lips as he pulled up to the curb on the side of the building. Standing with his black scarf high over his lips and nose, Ignis stared down at his phone, scrolling through his applications as he waited patiently for Gladio’s arrival. As he slowed and unlocked the car door, Ignis startled to attention, his eyes wide at the luxurious vehicle.

Was Ignis waiting for an invitation or something? It was colder than Shiva’s corpse outside and he was standing there like the blustery wind wasn’t bothering him. Gladio rolled the window down and leaned over. “Have you never seen a car before? Hurry up and get in before you die of hypothermia!”

Ignis didn’t act any less enthused once he was inside the car and buckled up, but Gladio tried his best to ignore it for as long as he could. He turned his music up loud, the bass drowning out the lyrics of the blaring rap song.

Only, Gladio couldn’t ignore how enthralled Ignis was. Everything in the car fascinated him — the stereo system. The navigation screen. Buttons and knobs galore. The backlit dash behind the steering wheel. Sleek, plush black leather seats. The new car smell.

Ignis trailed his gloved fingers along the leather interior of the door, tracing the stitching with a feather-light touch. “Is this yours ?”

“Is what mine?”

Ignis gestured around him. “This! This car! This is yours ?”

This was getting uncomfortable already. Something about the way people fawned over Gladio and his possessions brought on an unbearable feeling of suffocation. For once, he wanted to go without his car getting noticed, or the nice watch and necklace adorning his wrist and neck. He wanted someone to look past all of that.

He just wanted to be Gladio, the high schooler.

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” There was a sharp bite to the way Gladio said this, back to his bad mood.

“Not at all! I wasn’t trying to say it was! It’s just . . . you’re rather lucky.”

He gripped the steering wheel so tight, it creaked under his hands, knuckles whitening. Awesome, he had everything money could buy. It didn’t mean that Gladio would give it all back in a heartbeat to save his family, his sanity, or himself from his own demons.

Pulling over to catch his breath would put them even further behind in getting to Iris. He’d have to fight through it. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Ignis placed his hands back in his lap, his eyes darting from one thing in the car to the next. “Nothing at all! Your car is so . . . luxurious. So modern. It would be mendacious of me if I didn’t admit I wasn’t the least bit envious of you right now. It even smells brand new! Did you just get it?”

“Not really,” Gladio said. “Got it for my sixteenth.”

“You received this for your sixteenth birthday?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How fortunate of you.” Ignis clicked his tongue against his teeth, smirking. “I tend to forget that you don’t have to work for things of this nature.”

Gladio grunted, his hold tightening on the wheel. Any more and he’d probably break the damn thing. Bend it right under his grip. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” He could feel the frustration bubbling below the surface, simmering. Whatever . . . Ignis still saw him as a spoiled, rich kid who had everything handed to him. Yes, ok, a lot had been handed to him, but that was neither here nor there. It was the principle of it all, like all of his possessions magically made his life perfect.

It didn’t.

Gladio’s sudden change in mood caught Ignis’ attention. Up until now, he was blind to the panic attack Gladio seemed to be suffering. “Gladio? Are you alright? You look ill.”

Gladio continued his outburst. “You know, just because my schedule ain’t overflowing with extracurricular activities, it doesn’t mean I don’t work for my shit. I work my ass off for my grades, to take care of my sister, keeping my fam —” Too far. Way too far. He caught himself from saying anything more, but he’d already said more than he meant to. Gladio took a deep breath to calm himself before his aggravation got the better of him.  

When Ignis brought up this whole ‘getting to know each other on a deeper level outside of Study Hall’ thing, he probably didn’t have this in mind. Great, now he probably thought Gladio had a temper problem, or that he was crazy. Any number of things could be running through Ignis’ mind and somehow that made all of this even more distressing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see and feel Ignis watching him, mouth moving to find an apology, but he didn’t want to hear it. Anything Ignis said right now would’ve sounded like pandering to him. The subject was still a sore one. With a final sigh, Gladio turned the volume knob up so he could drive without having to hear Ignis or his own thoughts anymore.

The rest of the trip to pick up Iris went by without another word uttered between Ignis and Gladio, the sky gloomy with the threat of snow. When they arrived, Gladio found a spot closest to the front of the lot so Iris would see them without any issues. He put the car in park, leaving it running so they wouldn’t freeze to death.

Gladio knew he should say something. Ignis hadn’t even so much as moved a muscle since Gladio turned the radio up. It wasn’t like he’d set out with the intention of sending Gladio into a panic. How could he have possibly known? They weren’t friends until recently. So, yes, to Ignis, he did have the picture-perfect life.

He picked at his cuticles in silence, a habit he couldn’t break. Something about it, the picking and the physical pain, diverted Gladio’s attention from more serious matters, especially when he felt cornered and trapped. It was messed up, but true. “Ignis . . . hey, listen. Back there when I snapped at you? I . . . didn’t . . . I dunno. I’m sorry about that.”

Ignis squirmed and bowed his head like he’d done something wrong. “I truly meant no harm by my words. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

“No, it’s not you. It’s . . . it’s me. It’s just that . . . I . . . well, you see . . .”

Just as Ignis shifted in his seat, facing Gladio as much as he could in the confines of the car, the door of the building they were parked in front of opened up, catching Gladio’s eye. The conversation would have to wait — thank the gods, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let Ignis see all of his crazy just yet.

Iris came bouncing out, waving goodbye to someone still inside. Gladio knew she was expecting the family car or Jared’s sedan because when she saw his car, her face lit up and, after looking both ways for oncoming cars, she broke into a sprint across the parking lot.

She ran up to the passenger side door and stopped short, surprise written all over her little face. Gladio rolled the passenger-side window down and smiled. “Hey, Kiddo! I got company today, so you’ll have to take the backseat.”

That didn’t go over well with her, even after Ignis waved at her, hoping to get in her good graces. “Who’s he?” she asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Ignis. Gladio could tell she wanted to argue but he stopped her with one raised eyebrow before she could start.

The wind whipped her hair around and she tried to hold it back from her eyes. A standoff for the ages — Gladio glaring at Iris and mentally screaming for her to get in the damn car, while she continued to stand there, probably screaming in her own head for Ignis to get out of her seat.

Leave it to Iris to try and use her stubborn personality to get her way.

But, alas, she gave in with a huff and opened the back passenger-side door, sliding into the middle seat and buckling up. As the car drove away, the building disappearing behind the other shopping centers and properties around it, Gladio cleared his throat and looked at his little sister in the rearview mirror. “How was practice?”

“Fine." She tugged at the hem of her school uniform skirt, keeping a careful eye on Ignis though he was none the wiser at this point. "Teacher said I was on track to play that one piece mom loved for the recital.”

Gladio shot a knowing look at Ignis, his heart pounding at the mention of his mom, but Ignis still pretended to find fascination outside the window, trees and skyline a blur in the distance. Ignis was smart; he had to be putting the pieces together right about now, but bless him for wearing the mask of ignorance so well.  “Oh yeah?” he replied. “Want to play it for me later? Get some practice in?”

“Can I?”

“Definitely! You know I like that song, too. After dinner, ok?”

“Ok!” Then, she stopped bouncing in the backseat, a sobered expression on her face as she remembered who was in the front seat. “What about him? Will he be there?”

“Iris, be nice ,” Gladio warned, but Ignis had already turned in his seat, extending his hand to the back for an introduction.

“Apologies for my lack of manners. I’m Ignis Scientia, your brother’s partner in a project we’re working on.” He smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Iris looked wary but shook his hand in return. “Gladdy talks about me a lot?”

“All the time. You're his favorite thing to talk about.”

Gladio’s stomach fluttered at the kindness Ignis extended to his younger sister. Seeing this side of him, and the way Iris quickly warmed up to him, was breathtaking. Instead of saying anything, scared to ruin the moment, Gladio drove and listened to them talk.

“I am?”

“Absolutely. He is so proud of how well you do in school and your extracurriculars. I feel like I’m in the presence of a celebrity for how often he speaks of you.”

“Weird . . . he’s never mentioned you.”

“Through no fault of his own, I imagine. We didn’t exactly get along until recently. A shame, considering how kind of a person your brother is.”

Just as Gladio felt a flush tinge his cheeks, Iris snorted. “Pfsh, he’s not that kind! He’s annoying and he doesn’t let me in his room sometimes.”

Both men chuckled and Gladio rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, you’re the annoying one. Who hogs the TV for all her stupid shows? ”

“Oh, whatever! You’re mean, you know that? Ignis, back me up!”

Ignis held both his hands up in mock surrender. “I refuse to get in the middle of a sibling rivalry!”

It was like Ignis belonged. Iris loved him and Gladio loved that they got along so well once the ice was broken. She chattered non-stop and Gladio wondered how Ignis could put up with her incessant babbling. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it! That could’ve been because Ignis grew up without siblings, but still.

Once they got to the Amicitia Manor, Gladio directed Iris to the dining room table to complete her homework. “Maybe, if you do all your homework correctly, I’ll ask Jared to make breakfast for dinner. Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. Sounds good?”

“Will Ignis eat with us?”

“Uh . . . if he wants to? I dunno; Ignis, do you want to stay for dinner?”

A flash of uncertainty flickered in Ignis’ eyes, but it was gone before Gladio could call him on it. Instead, he smiled. “Only if I’m treated to hearing this song you’ve been practicing afterward.”

“Yes! Yes, Gladdy, is that ok? Can he stay so I can show him the song?”

“Only if you finish your homework! Now, go!”

That was all the incentive she needed, giggling and running down the hall to the dining room to get started.

Gladio elbowed Ignis. “You have an admirer.”

Leaning away, Ignis chuckled and swiped back at Gladio to stop. “She’s a bright child and very lucky to have you to care for her. You two share a special bond.”

“Yeah, she’s been through a lot . . . so I’m glad that you were able to make her smile. I can only take her out for desserts and shit so many times to get her to laugh and smile, you know?” Sure that she was occupied and settled, Gladio pointed up to the second floor. “Come on, let’s go to my room. Jared should be over in a bit to start dinner.”

Ascending the stairs and leading Ignis down the hall to his bedroom was more intimidating than he let on. His steps felt heavy, like his shoes were made of lead. Ignis looked around with wide-eyed amazement, commenting on the ornate decorations and beautiful paintings.

Gladio swung open his door, walking in without much fanfare and throwing his bag in the chair beside his desk. Ignis traipsed to the middle of the room, back to drinking everything in. “Your room is spectacular .”

Gladio shrugged, busying himself with taking off his blazer and hanging it in his closet. “‘S not that big a deal.”

“Not a big deal? Gladio! Your entire house is . . . it’s . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to carefully set his bag on the floor against the wall, almost as if his belongings would soil the Amicitia house somehow. As Gladio rolled his sleeves up, ready to work more on their paper, Ignis clasped his hands behind his back and strolled around the perimeter of the room.

Scholarly awards, sports trophies, and little sentimental knick-knacks all gave personality and life to Gladio’s room. Ignis continued on, wordlessly and without touching anything, until he reached a shelf with several framed photos. One apparently caught his eye and Gladio tensed up as he watched Ignis reach for one picture in particular.

A snapshot of a woman, mid-laugh, with her arms wrapped around a Gladio no older than 15. They were outside, the sun bright enough to make them squint at the camera. Ignis’ thumb brushed the face of young, teenage Gladio wistfully, making present-day Gladio’s heart pound a little harder, blood roar in his ear a little louder.

“Who is she?”

Gladio moved to Ignis’ side, peering over his shoulder at the picture. Gods, he hadn’t looked at that picture since the accident. It had been taken just days before that horrific day, but the guilt he felt when he wanted to shove it into a drawer was too much to handle. He ended up keeping it on the shelf, nestled behind other pictures of Iris and his father.

Holding a hand out, Gladio waited for Ignis to place the photo in his grasp. When he did, Gladio heaved a sigh and frowned. “She was my mom.”

“Was?”

Gladio hummed his confirmation. “Yeah. Was.” He shifted his weight, trying to find his balance before the weight of everything knocked him to the ground. “Car accident a few years back. I survived . . . she didn’t. Got the scar on my face as the permanent reminder.”

Normally this was the point where people would fake an apology or try to change the subject in an effort to alleviate their discomfort. The pitiful looks he always got were more than he could take, stuck between gawking at the long scar down the left side of his face and awkwardly avoiding Gladio’s vacant stare. Everyone did it; it was only a matter of time before Ignis did so, too.

“Gladio . . .  I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

The words hung in the air, a hoarse whisper barely audible despite the proximity of the two, practically shoulder to shoulder with the picture between them. Gladio steeled himself, ready to find that expression on Ignis’ face that said ‘ This is mildly awkward and I feel bad I brought anything up. Let’s change the subject.’

Instead, when he met Ignis’ eyes, a lump of emotion lodged in his throat. There was no pity. No tension. Only sadness, like he was taking on Gladio’s pain for himself — or, trying to. With a trembling hand and an uneven breath, Ignis squeezed Gladio’s shoulder once. Twice. And then he left it there, warm and comforting. Something to let Gladio know he was there.

Gladio was caught between wanting to talk about it, eased by Ignis’ empathy, and bottling it up like he had been doing. His fingers played with the edges of the frame one more time before he replaced the photo in the back of the shelf, behind the other frames and hidden away from the world once more. “Yeah,” he retorted back Ignis’ apology, running a hand through his hair as he walked to his desk to grab his laptop. “So am I.”

The room was thick with unsaid words, but Ignis evidently was kind enough to let it go — for that, Gladio was grateful. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes with his forearm, forcing a laugh. “Sorry . . . anyway. The project. Where do you want to begin today?”

Chapter Text

“It’s your turn, now.”

Ignis blinked, a questioning look on his face. “It’s my turn for . . . what, exactly?”

Gladio sat on his bed, watching Ignis sitting cross-legged on the floor. He'd offered the desk to Ignis several times, convincing him that he’d be more comfortable there than on the cherry hardwood floor. Ignis declined each time, assuring Gladio that the large rug he was sitting on was more than comfortable and he was just fine where he was.

Gladio bit his lower lip when he looked at that stupid rug, the same large rug that his mom swore he’d warm up to when she laid it there.

He never did warm up to it like his mom insisted, but the rug stayed. Gladio couldn’t bear to throw it out.

With Giving Day right around the corner — a winter holiday of gift-exchanges and time with family, blessed by the Astrals themselves — Jared and Iris had taken it upon themselves to decorate the Amicitia Manor. No matter where Gladio looked, he was reminded of the season — holiday lights and window clings, the scent of bergamot and mint, and a fresh blanket of white snow to really put Gladio in the festive spirit.

Oh, and the promise of two weeks with absolutely nothing to do. No school. No exams. No studying. Just a sweet, sweet stretch of free time and relaxation.

Well, for most people.

Gladio already knew his dad would be locked away at the Citadel, losing himself in his work and probably begging the King for more paperwork if he had any, but Gladio still had Iris and that’s all that mattered. Too excited to wait, he already had her gifts wrapped and hidden in the back of his closet, bursting at the seams to give them all to her. Knowing them, they’d probably end up exchanging their gifts early. They always did.

Also in the pile were a few small presents for his dad, things that Gladio picked up one afternoon on his way home from school that he knew his dad would appreciate. They may not be on the best of terms, but the love was still there, buried under the tension and heartache.

Something for Jared . . . a toy Cactuar for Jared’s grandson, Talcott . . .

But . . . there was a nagging thought. One itty, bitty notion like Gladio was missing someone on his list. Someone important. Someone like —  

Ignis tapped his pen several times on the edge of the book nestled in his lap, grabbing Gladio’s attention. “It’s my turn for what?” he repeated, annoyed.

Oh, that’s right. He was in the middle of telling Ignis something. Gladio beamed like he was getting ready to tell a funny joke. Anything to offset the nerves that would probably come with his next words. “For us to go to your place.”

Ignis had always been pretty secretive about his life. It wasn’t that Gladio expected him to be an open book about things — they were friends, and Gladio considered him one of his best, but Ignis was still very guarded about his personal life — but he was desperate for Ignis to let him in.

After the first day at Gladio’s house went well — especially considering Ignis’ discovery of the picture of his mother — it became an unspoken thing to move their meetings and get-togethers from the library and Study Hall to Gladio’s home. Aside from Iris wanting to hang out with the two of them all the time (and Gladio would let her, as long as she worked on her own homework and didn’t distract them), things were much quieter at Gladio’s than they were in the library or Study Hall. There was also the added perk of having endless access to all the snacks and beverages they desired, what with the gourmet kitchen just downstairs — one that Ignis fawned over and made Gladio swear to let him cook in one day.

Of course, Gladio chuckled and pinky swore to that.

But, the more they hung out at Gladio’s, the more he reflected on Ignis and his hypothetical house.

Come to think of it, Ignis never once mentioned his house.

His parents.

His past.

Nothing .

Gladio tried to press about the issue once, but Ignis immediately shut down and changed the subject. “That’s none of your business,” he snapped. After that, Gladio didn’t bring it up again.

Until now.

He scooted to the edge of the bed, extending his legs out in front of him to get some blood flowing through them again. With a nudge of his foot and a playful swat from Ignis, Gladio smiled and said, “It’s time to head over to your place.”

Just as Ignis did before, the walls immediately went back up and every muscle tensed. The creases between his brows deepened and his eyes narrowed to mere slits. Ok, not exactly the reaction Gladio was looking for, but no one could blame a man for trying. “My home is off-limits.”

“Oh, come on Ignis. What is so fucking bad about your house? Huh? Are you some sort of super secret agent and you can’t tell me where you live, or else the government will come get you? Afraid that I’ll break in and steal your shit? We keep coming over to my house, and I haven't heard a single peep about your home life. In fact, every time you do need a ride home, you make me drop you off at the fucking gas station. I don’t even know if that’s anywhere close to your house. For real, what do you have against going to your place?”

Ignis backed up a fraction of an inch, distancing himself from Gladio. “What reason could possibly possess you to want to see my house? We get along just fine here or at school. There’s no reason for us to go other than to quell your insatiable curiosity.”

“Well . . . I dunno,” Gladio muttered. “I’m not asking you to give me a fucking key to your parent’s place or anything, but fuck me for wanting to learn more about you.”

“And why would you want to learn more about me ?” The words were accusing and not at all spoken in the friendly tone that Gladio had grown accustomed to. In fact, it took Gladio completely off-guard.

What on Eos did he mean by that?

“Uh . . . because our project says we need to learn about each other?” he started, suddenly wishing he’d just kept his big mouth shut. How the fuck did Ignis manage to make him feel so small with so few words? “And, because I want to learn more about you? Because you’re my friend? Because there has to be more to you than just the ‘smart guy’ persona at school? Fuck, why else do you think I want to learn more about you? You're interesting, you're funny, you're kind, and probably the best person I've ever had a chance to know.”

Ignis softened, removing his glasses from his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, exhausted. From where Gladio sat, and the way the light of his lamp played on Ignis’ face, Gladio could see the dark circles under his eyes, normally obscured by his spectacles. Ignis had made an off-handed comment about how tired he was lately, pulling all-nighters and sustaining himself on Ebony coffee from the school’s vending machine, but Gladio hadn’t thought too much about it. He was tired, too, and he faintly remembered using that as a way to commiserate with Ignis, enjoying the way their shared fatigue bonded them in some weird sort of way.

The poor guy was running on fumes at this point and it probably wasn't helping his thinned patience.

“I don’t know, Gladio . . . I’m not sure it’s a wise idea to head down that path just yet.”

“Why? It’s literally just me at your house. It’s not a big deal. I mean . . . it’s me .”

Ignis continued to hesitate, the arm of his glasses between his pointer finger and thumb as he moved to massage his temple. “But it’s not you. It’s not you that I worry about. Well, relatively speaking.”

Now, Gladio was puzzled. He inched off the bed, coming to sit beside Ignis, their knees touching. How had he never noticed the way he smelled of coffee and laundry? It was almost intoxicating. And was that a hint of cologne he was wearing?  

Pushing all those thoughts aside, he rested a large hand on Ignis’ arm, hunching down to meet Ignis’ eyes. “Hey . . .” When Ignis looked up, Gladio gave him a soft smile. “Then, if it’s not me, what more do you have to worry about? Come on, think of it as me doing research for our project, ok? I won’t even stay long. In and out. Promise.”

Gladio hoped that his soothing words would have some effect on Ignis, but they did little to quell the faint look of fear in his eyes. He was about ready to call the whole thing off, tell Ignis he could wait until he was ready to show him his home — obviously, this was more than just a small case of anxiety for him — but Ignis surprisingly relented. “I suppose you have a point. I just . . .”

Gladio couldn't afford to let Ignis fall into the trappings of his inner mind. He calmly prompted him with a, “What? You can say it.”

But Ignis didn’t. He replaced his glasses back on his nose, pushing them up higher with an indignant sigh. Avoiding Gladio’s stare by feigning interest with the pages in his textbook, Ignis took a second or two to collect his thoughts before voicing them. “Perhaps showing you will give you a better idea as to my hesitancy.” He turned the page and finally looked back up at Gladio. “How about the last day of school before break? This Friday? That is, if Iris doesn’t need tending to that day.”

A jolt of excitement — at least, that’s what Gladio thought it was — shot straight down the very nerves of his spine. He was actually getting an invite to Ignis’ place. Granted, it was against his very wishes, but still, it was something. Anything. Gladio would take anything at this point.

“Yeah?” he said, feigning apathy.

“Indeed. I’ll just need you to drive us as I usually take public transportation home. Not having my own vehicle has its drawbacks, as you can imagine. I know you being my chauffeur can be taxing, but I am always eternally grateful.”

“It’s no problem. Seriously, I’m happy to do it for you.” Gladio laid a heavy hand on Ignis’ shoulder, patting it for good measure, and jumped back onto his bed. However, while he was dying from the anticipation, Ignis didn’t seem to share that same avidity..

Strange.

As much as he wanted to ask, Gladio wouldn’t press it further. He’d have to wait until Friday.

Friday came without pomp and circumstance, much to Gladio’s disappointment. He expected something — some sort of excitement or fanfare — but instead of Ignis hyping him up on their drive to his house, he sat in the passenger seat of Gladio’s car, staring straight ahead. Gladio wracked his mind, trying to figure out what on Eos could have Ignis so worked up like this, but he had little to go on at this point.

After all the pointing and the directions, the traffic and the stops and go's (and, hey, there was that gas station that Ignis always said would be alright for Gladio to drop him off at!), they finally arrived at an extremely modest attached residence.

“Nice place,” Gladio complimented, pulling into the skinny driveway.

“I suppose.”

“You suppose ? It’s a cute house, Ignis!”

“Townhome.” His words were far too clipped, even for Ignis — and that was saying something.

“So? It’s still nice! Who cares if it’s a house, a townhome . . . whatever! What are you so embarr—”

A red tinge to Ignis’ cheeks. The worrying of his lip with his teeth. Wringing his hands.

Oh.

Oh.

It was then that Gladio realized that Ignis wasn’t terrified; no, he was mortified. Completely and utterly mortified of where he came from and who he was.

The townhome was small compared to Gladio’s family manor, but it wasn’t rundown or beat-up. Scant yardage trimmed the area around the buildings, but at least everything looked well-kept. A group of kids ran on the sidewalk just up the way, their laughter echoing in the twilight.

Gladio wondered why Ignis was embarrassed by this. It was such a charming little neighborhood. So what if he came from middle class? Did Ignis really think that Gladio was still that judgmental of a person? That he would laugh at him for coming from lesser wealth? Hadn’t Gladio proven to Ignis that he wasn’t that guy?

No. No, there’s probably more to this than just Ignis being ashamed of where he comes from. Be patient. Give him his space. He’s given you yours about Mom.

Wordlessly and painfully slow, they got out of the car and headed to the front door, sidestepping the patches of ice that had formed. Ignis spared Gladio one final look over his shoulders, like they were somehow marching to their deaths and this was the last thing they’d say to each other. “My family is not like yours, Gladiolus. Please keep that in mind.” He flicked his eyes down to Gladio’s feet, lips forming a straight line across his face. “. . . oh, and remember to take your shoes off and place them to the side. You’ll catch hell if you don’t.”

Gladio gave him one nod, but he tensed up as soon as Ignis turned away and placed the key in the door.

Here went nothing. Time to see what had Ignis so worked up.

“Mother. Father. I’m home,” Ignis called out, toeing out of his shoes and lining them up next to the other pairs of shoes. Gladio stepped inside the house and followed suit, but he kept his head down and hands to himself.

The house was deathly quiet. Even the sound of Gladio’s breathing seemed to reverberate off the bare, white walls. As they walked down the hall, Gladio following Ignis like he was his shadow, Gladio noticed that not a single picture or decoration dotted a square inch of the home. Everything was cold. Sterile.

The further into the house they went, the more uncomfortable Gladio felt. There weren’t even any Giving Day decorations up. Fuck, Gladio knew his own family was broken, but at least there was life in their home. At the bare minimum, it felt like a home on the best of days.

Did Ignis ever feel like this was a home?

A stern, sharp-featured woman appeared from a side room, wiping her hands on a towel. Ignis froze, his hands firmly at his side. “Good evening, Mother. I wanted to introduce you to the student I’m working with on my final project.”

Gladio reached a hand out, ready to introduce himself. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Gladiolus Amicitia. Pleased to meet you.”

His hand hung there in the air for several seconds while Ignis’ mother’s eyes flitted from the hand, up to Gladio’s face. Back to the hand, up to his face. She eyed him down the length of her nose, face tilted up with an air of arrogance. “Yes, well . . . I didn’t realize we were having company, Ignis,” she said, her voice sharp and critical. Gladio played off his attempt at shaking hands by running his hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I suppose I can set another place at the table, if your friend is intent on staying.”

Oh, no. Gladio started to object, shaking his head as he began to back away, afraid he’d made a wrong first impression, but Ignis’ hand on his forearm stopped him. “Yes, Mother. I apologize for inviting him without asking. We’re going to wash up and we’ll be back downstairs shortly.”

“Hm. Yes. After that, he must go. I assume you have quite a bit of work to catch up on? Your father says you’ve been slacking.”

Slacking? Ignis?

Surely this woman was thinking of the wrong person. Ignis was anything but a slacker.

“Yes, Mother. I understand.”

His mother shot Gladio one more judging glare before turning on her heels and gliding back into, what Gladio assumed was, the kitchen. Chest painfully tight from the breath he was holding, Gladio exhaled long and slow, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck, Ignis,” he hissed as Ignis tugged his arm to follow him upstairs. “Is your mom in a bad mood? I didn’t know coming here would be such a big deal. I can go if you —”

“No,” Ignis cut him off, bringing him to his very small bedroom, next to the bathroom where they’d wash their hands. He motioned for Gladio to step inside the bathroom. “No, you leaving now would be even worse.”

“Well . . . I don’t get it,” Gladio continued to whisper even with the water running in the sink. It wasn’t possible for the two of them to stand in the bathroom together, so Ignis waited at the doorway until Gladio was done. Then, they switched, awkwardly bumping into each other. “Is she always like that?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And you weren’t gonna warn a guy beforehand?”

Ignis finished washing his hands and wiped them for several seconds longer than he probably needed to, no doubt stalling for time. When he was done, he skirted by Gladio and walked the three steps into his bedroom, clicking the light on. “What would I have said?”

Even his footfalls sounded too loud. Gladio was about ready to pray to the Astrals for the ability to levitate — something to help alleviate the amount of noise he thought he was making. “I don’t know? Something? Anything? I mean, fuck . . . do you guys even celebrate Giving Day? There aren’t any decorations! And what the fuck did she mean about you slacking off? You’re the last person in the fucking world that slacks off about anything!”

Ignis moved about his room with such practiced poise that Gladio realized this was a routine for him. Turn on the lamp, open the shades to let what little light was left of the day into the room, remove his scarf and blazer and hang them up, and grab his books from his bag. Somehow, the way he moved looked so effortless and graceful, his footsteps light and airy. Gladio stood back and watched, mesmerized by him. Stunned by him. Heartbroken for him.

“Ignis . . . please talk to me.”

He stilled for a minute before shifting his head to acknowledge that Gladio asked him to speak. “What is it you’d like to know first?”

“I dunno. You’ve always been so damn sure of yourself and arrogant as fuck, but you come here and immediately turn into someone else. Your house. Your parents. This change in behavior . . . what is this? Why are you . . . is this why you’re . . .”

Ignis sat on his bed and sighed. “Ashamed? I guess you could say that.”

“So . . . tell me. Tell me your story.”

Gladio didn’t know it was possible for Ignis to look vulnerable. Leaning his weight against a wall closest to the door, one ankle crossed over the other, Gladio listened to Ignis begin to tell his story.

“I was a burden from the day I was born. You see, my arrival into this world was unplanned. It threw a rather large wrench into the plans my parents had for their own lives. As a child, I was brought up under the rule that ‘children should be seen and not heard.’ It also didn’t — or doesn’t, I suppose — help that we don’t exactly have much in the way of monetary funds. They’ve never come outright and said it, but I know they blame me for creating an even greater financial strain on them.“

“Ok?” Gladio said cautiously, shifting his weight to his other foot, arms still crossed. “So, how is it that you’re at Insomnia Academy? If you want to talk about a financial strain, I’d say that going to an elitist private school would be as big of a financial strain as you could get.”

Ignis scoffed and smirked. “Oh, that’s all my own doing.”

“What is? Paying for it? Going there?”

“Both — attending and paying for it.. You see, growing up with parents who couldn’t care less for your existence, you begin to do anything you can to get their attention. My grades were always stellar, my extracurriculars were top notch. I could play the most difficult of piano pieces at the age of nine and I became fluent in three other languages by thirteen. But, they didn’t care. They never cared and I was desperate . . . so desperate and at my wit’s end doing what I could for their approval.”

“What? You being a fucking prodigy wasn’t enough for them?”

Ignis laughed, amused by Gladio’s question. “I’m afraid not. I did my research and learned more about Insomnia Academy and how beneficial it could be for me. So, on a whim, I applied, not thinking much about it. I think I just assumed I’d get rejected, or maybe I told myself that so it wouldn’t hurt so bad if I did.”

“You didn’t, though, since obviously, you’re there now.”

“No, I didn’t. I received my acceptance letter two months later in the mail and ran inside to show my parents. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when I told them I was accepted into the top private school in Insomnia! Instead of being excited for me, they oh-so-lovingly reminded me we are poor. ‘ You stupid child, don’t you ever think before acting? How do you expect us to pay for this? Go to your room, and take this letter with you.’”

Gladio cringed. “Wow . . . that’s . . .” He couldn’t find the right word to express his disgust, so he faded to quiet.

“I was upset, of course — what child wouldn’t be after that? —  but I didn’t let it stop me. I knew I needed this to happen, so I went to my room and looked at what I could do. I managed to earn some scholarships, but it wouldn’t be enough. No part-time job after school would pay me anywhere near what I’d need to attend. That’s when we — or, I, rather — received a phone call from my Uncle. Coincidentally, there was a position at his work that he knew I’d be good for and he wanted me to consider taking it.”

“What was it?”

The pause in Ignis’ response hung in the air, his hesitation palpable. “Before I say anything, you have to promise not to tell anyone who I work for. It’s important that you keep this to yourself.”

“Uh . . . ok? I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart.”

“You swear? Not even your friends. Not a soul , Gladio .”

“Yes, I swear! I won’t say a thing!”

“Ok.” Ignis inhaled one big, deep breath and, on his exhale, mumbled, “I work for the King’s son in the Citadel.”

“Wait, hold up,” Gladio interrupted, pushing slightly off the wall as his ears perked up at the words, ‘the Citadel.’ “You? You work at the Citadel? You are the Prince’s nanny? Hold on, wait . . . You work at the Citadel? Why didn’t you ever tell me this? My dad talks about the Prince all the time! I had no idea it was you that watched over him!”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah!” Gladio nodded, in awe over this new information.”He’s the right-hand man to the King. He practically lives in his office lately, so you’ve probably seen him around more these days.”

Ignis’ eyes went wide with recognition. “Of course! Yes, I have seen him! I should’ve known! I can’t believe I never put two and two together, especially with your last names! Clarus Amicitia!”

“That’s him! Damn, what a small world! Seriously, he’s told me before that the Prince gets into these moods and his tutor has to be the one to deal with it. I can’t believe he’s always been talking about you !”

“Yes, well . . . security and protocol dictate that I keep this information under wraps, unless absolutely necessary. The only people who know are my Uncle, the Advisor to the King, and my parents. To everyone else, I just ‘tutor a student after school.’”

Gladio had so many questions and he wanted to hear more about Ignis’ time with the Prince, but this wasn’t the time. “Sorry, back to what we were talking about,” he apologized, bringing the topic back to Ignis and his path to getting into Insomnia Academy. “Your Uncle at the Citadel?”

“Oh, yes. My apologies . . . as I was saying, my Uncle reached out to me and asked if I’d be interested in watching over Prince Noctis. He told me I was the first person to come to mind for him and the opportunity would be perfect. How could I pass that up? Extra money? A high-profile job at a young age? It was exactly what I needed.”

“But?”

There had to be a ‘but’, judging by the set-up of Ignis’ story.

“My parents clicked their tongues and sighed, telling me that being someone’s ‘lapdog’ was hardly worthy of praise. Tending to the Prince and being a ‘glorified babysitter’, as they said, would just not do.” Ignis raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “There was no way I could pass up this opportunity, though. The amount the King was willing to pay me was more than I could fathom. At the same time, however . . . I couldn’t help but feel like I was still not doing enough. I would never be . . .”

Gladio took one step forward, then another, and soon found himself sitting beside Ignis on the bed, eyes glued to a singular point of the wall straight ahead. Ignis didn’t acknowledge him, and Gladio didn’t expect him to. Still, he figured being here next to him was better than being on the other end of the room. “You’re killing yourself for everyone’s approval. You know that, right?”

Ignis shifted so he was sitting more on the bed instead of right on the edge, his face a mixture of frustration and anguish. “To be quite honest, I thought I was doing this for myself for the longest while. I thought that since I made the decision to attend this school, that I agreed to skip a grade, that I took on this job to watch over His Highness, this was all for me. That’s the logical thing to think, right? Why else would I do it?”

His tone took on a more self-deprecating note. “Then, the more I considered it — the more I dug into myself and my psyche — I realized that I wasn’t doing this for myself. This wasn’t for me. It never was. I was doing all of this to prove to others my worth.

“I believed that I would make something of myself and then everyone would regret shunning me. My parents, my peers . . . everyone. ‘Oh, there’s Ignis, the Future King’s Advisor. He's really made something of himself, hasn't he?’ I thought maybe I could eventually reflect back on my childhood and teenage years and laugh.” Ignis put his face in his hands and exhaled. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

Gladio sat in silence, his side pressed against Ignis on the twin-sized bed. All this time, he’d assumed Ignis was the school’s biggest asshole because he considered himself better than everyone when really it was the complete and total opposite. Ignis worked his ass off for where he was in their school. The late nights he worked with Prince Noctis as an integral piece in ensuring his success as the Crown Prince? All the extracurriculars he’d signed up for? Maintaining his grades?

It broke Gladio’s heart knowing that, in some sick and twisted way, Ignis had been just as lonely as he had. He’d been spinning his wheels, trying to get somewhere and gain love with someone , all for nothing. Honestly, if it wasn’t for this project, Gladio knew he’d still be that same dick, pointing and laughing behind Ignis’ back about how awful and insufferable he was.

If he’d just stopped and gotten to know Ignis for five minutes, maybe they could’ve been there for each other — been each other’s confidant when they needed it most. Maybe less time would’ve been spent in suffocating solitude if they’d tried to learn about each other earlier.

“Not to get all cheesy and stuff . . . but . . . I’m sorry it took so long for us to get to know each other. You’re my friend, Iggy,” Gladio said, nudging Ignis with his shoulder and smiling. “And I’m proud of all the shit you’ve accomplished.”

The nickname did not go unnoticed. “Iggy?”

Oh, no. Too far. Maybe they hadn’t reached that point in their friendship yet. Sheepish and self-conscious, Gladio’s cheeks burned a bright pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah . . . sorry. It just sorta slipped out.”

“No, no! It’s just that . . . no one has given me a nickname before. Seems like something reserved for close friends.”

“Oh . . . you don’t think we’re close friends?”

"No, I do! I like to think we are, if you do as well?" Ignis cracked his first smile that day. “For the first time, I have someone that I can go to as a friend . . . someone I trust. Someone I feel safe with.”

“Really?”

Ignis nodded. “Indeed. You’re a good person, Gladio, and I’m also sorry it took us this long to open up to each other. A lot of time was wasted on incorrect perceptions of each other, but that’s all in the past. I’m just glad we’re away from all of that, now.”

Why was Gladio’s stomach twisting and knotting uncontrollably? Why did he have the urge to wrap his arms around Ignis, pull him close and never let him go? Was this what real friendship was? He never got this giddy with Luche and the gang, but that could’ve been because they weren’t the physical, touchy-feely, affectionate type.

Yup, that was it.

But . . .  

Then again, Ignis hadn’t shown himself to be the affectionate type either, so that left Gladio back at square one of why he felt so different around Ignis. It was confusing and Gladio had no idea what to do with himself when Ignis was around, but he liked it. It was euphoric. Addicting. Fun. 

It had to be because he finally had a friend. A real, true, honest-to-gods friend he could be himself around. 

Ignis patted Gladio’s thigh and stood up. “My mother has always refused to call me down for dinner. She says it’s rude to yell in the house. So, if we’re going to eat anything, we better head downstairs soon.”

Dammit. Dinner. Gladio had almost forgotten about that. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I can leave if you want me to. The last thing I want is to make dinner for you even more awkward than it already is.”

“Nonsense. If anything, you being there will make it much more bearable. I could really use . . . a friend . . . right now, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah . . . sure. Whatever you want.” There were those . . . what the fuck ? Were they . . . butterflies ? Gladio’s hand came to rest on his stomach, failing to quell whatever illness he was feeling right now. He swallowed and motioned to the open door of the bedroom. “After you, I guess.”

Whatever idea Gladio had about dinner being painfully miserable didn’t measure up to the reality of it once he sat down. Ignis tried once to make conversation but was silenced by a cutting glare from both his mother and his father. Apparently, conversation of any kind was considered rude at the dinner table — everything being rude seemed to be the theme of the household. Gladio and Ignis made eye contact several times across the table, forced smiles made to comfort the other.

This cold and inhospitable situation wasn’t what Gladio was used to. He’d grown up with laughter and talks of everyone’s day over dinner. His mom and dad actually encouraged both him and Iris to talk to them, so long as they weren’t speaking with their mouths full. What a stark contrast to dinner at Ignis’ — no love, no playful banter or giggling, nothing .

When dinner was done — thank the Astrals — Gladio almost offered to help clear the table and clean the dishes, but Ignis’ pursed lips and wide, screaming eyes told him all he needed to know. It was better to just grab his things and be on his way.

But, that meant it would probably be the last time they’d see each other until school started back up again. Gladio wasn’t looking forward to not seeing Ignis for the rest of the break.

“So . . . I, uh . . . I guess I’ll just see you when school starts back up?” Gladio asked, a hint of hope in his voice that maybe Ignis would say otherwise. Slipping his gloves on and shrugging into his coat, Gladio braced himself for the frigid chill that would come as soon as he opened the door.

“Of course. We can meet back up at our table the first Friday we’re back, if that arrangement suits your schedule.”

Ignis had a lot to do. That’s what Gladio had to tell himself. He was busy, tired at the end of the day, and had probably made plans to help out at the Citadel over the holiday break— long before they considered each other friends. It was no slight or dig at Gladio.

“Ok . . . yeah, that’s fine. You take care, ok? And if you get lonely on Giving Day, you know you have a spot at my house. I know Iris would love to see you and play more piano for you.”

Ignis chuckled softly so he wouldn’t disturb the quiet of his house. “I’ll keep that in mind. You take care of yourself as well and I’ll see you when we get back.”

One more deep breath, resigned to the fact that he would most definitely miss Ignis over the break, and he opened the door to leave. “Bye, Iggy. Happy Holidays.”

“Goodbye, Gladio. Happy Holidays to you, too.”

The door closed with a soft click , leaving Gladio alone in the mind-numbing cold.

Chapter Text

Holiday Break was almost uneventful enough to be more boring than relaxing.

Just like Gladio thought, his father was gone most hours of the day, barely finding the time to come home and rest his head on his pillow. Gladio had been to the Citadel before and knew there were plenty of floors and wings of the building to house the entire population of the city, so Clarus had to be catching sleep there. It was the only explanation for his absence over the Break, probably avoiding yet another holiday without his wife. Working himself to death was a suitable option, apparently.

It didn’t matter; Gladio had given up hope of seeing him anytime soon. How foolish had he been to think anything different would happen this year, like maybe they had a chance at scrambling the broken pieces of their family together in a fucked-up semblance of normalcy. Heartbroken, he tossed the stupid Giving Day presents he’d bought for his father into the large master bedroom and shut the door, leaving his attempts at bridging the gap — and his broken heart — in the dark room behind him.

Whatever, at least he fucking tried.

As much as this rift pained Gladio, Iris, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. Or, maybe she was learning to mask her emotions the same way Gladio did these days. Either way, her night terrors were fewer and farther in between, the number of tears shed significantly less. The little girl Gladio knew was growing up, hardened each and every day by the challenges of getting older without her mother.

It didn’t mean she was above the grief that came with the holidays. Though she had a stubborn streak a mile wide, Gladio could see right through her facade of happiness, right into the pain she possessed deep down. Fuck, even Gladio himself couldn’t hold back the tears some nights — but, dear Astrals, did he try. So, in the best interest of both of them (because being cooped up in a large and empty manor wasn’t doing them any favors), Gladio insisted on taking Iris out for some window shopping and brunch at the best little cafe in downtown Insomnia a few days before Giving Day.  

Except, window shopping turned into actual shopping, a few bags filled with last-minute gifts looped around their arms. Oh, and brunch turned into, ‘Let’s get everything on the menu and gorge ourselves on as many pancakes as we can and grab something to drink for the walk around the city,’ which is why Gladio had a coffee and Iris had a hot chocolate as they meandered up and down city blocks.

Maybe Gladio had been onto something when he invited Iris to come out with him. She had a bounce in her step that she lacked in previous Giving Days. She danced and twirled down the sidewalk, her scarf flowing in the wind and her bags jostling together, all while giving Gladio minor heart attacks at the thought of her falling on black ice. There was no use asking her to slow down — all she’d do was turn around, stick her tongue out, and dare Gladio to scold her again.

By half past noon, the crowds were nearing epic proportions, making it difficult to get more shopping done. Gladio was about ready to suggest they head back home, thinking all conversation between them had been exhausted by now, but Iris darted in front of Gladio and proceeded to walk backward as she spoke. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to go home or stop talking just yet.  “So, how come you haven’t been hanging out with those friends of yours?”

Iris wasn’t known for her tact. It was a random question, but Gladio was curious. Ok, he’d bite. “Who? Luche and Crowe and all them?” He couldn’t think of any other friends she could be referring to.

“I dunno. Maybe? I guess? The ones Dad hates because he said you become a totally different person around them.”

So, she was referring to them. Yeah, he still saw them from time to time. The text messages still rolled in and Gladio sat with them at lunch in resolute silence, feigning smiles and faking laughter to ensure his spot as Mr. Popular, but his time was better spent working with Ignis — or, maybe, it was just more fun with Ignis in general. “Eh, just don’t feel like talking to them a lot these days. Got a lot of stuff to do. Nothing personal.” He sipped from his cup. “And I don’t know what Dad’s talking about. I don’t turn into someone else with them.”

Liar.

“I dunno, Gladdy. Don’t ask me. You know how he is. He just worries, that’s all.” Iris rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to tuck a piece of hair back under her hat. “Anyway, he wouldn’t be so freaked out if he heard your music lately.”

“Huh? What about my music? What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“It’s not as . . . screamy or whiney, you know? Before it was all really sad and stuff, but now . . .” she faded off and turned around, falling back to walk side-by-side with her brother. “Now . . . it’s happier! It’s fun and nice!”

Gladio had no idea what she was talking about. The only music he listened to lately was what Ignis put on his ‘Favorites’ playlist — the same playlist that they listened to when they shared headphones that one afternoon. Gladio had it on in the car, in his room after school, on his new earbuds when he was alone; it was all he listened to these days. However, he was never granted access to editing the playlist or adding new songs, content to sit back and let Ignis dictate what went on the playlist. After all, it was his ‘Favorites’ list.

Come to think of it, Gladio did notice a few more upbeat, romantic-esque tunes in the lineup, but chalked it up to Ignis discovering new music. Yeah, he mentioned that one time that he listened to lyrics and lived through them more than he did the actual song, but that didn’t mean anything.

Maybe the dude was just a hopeless romantic or something. Maybe he wanted to listen to something else, for a change.

Or, maybe he . . . maybe . . .

Nah. Wishful thinking.

“Speaking of friends, where’s Ignis? Thought you would’ve asked him to come over or something.”

Her words, coupled with the coincidental timing of them to his thoughts, made Gladio stumble over his own feet, halting him when he regained his composure. The way Iris looked up at him, as if she didn’t just ask a loaded question, left him tongue-tied. “I . . . uh . . . I-I asked him before I left his house last Friday,” he responded, taking another sip of his coffee and wincing as it, yet again, burned his tongue, “b-but I haven’t heard anything since.”

“Well, ask him again!” Sweet Iris — so oblivious to the difficulties of high school friendships.

“Why?”

She swung a bag and landed a hit somewhere around the side of his leg. “Because he’s cool! He likes playing piano with me, he’s funny, and you’re a lot happier when you’re around him!”

“You want me to annoy him like you annoy me?”

Gladio dodged her attempts at another smack to the leg with her bags. “If I annoyed you so much, would you have begged me to come out with you? No, I don’t think so,” she said, answering her own question.

Score one for Iris.

“Hey! I figured it would be good for both of us to get out of that damn house. Watching game shows and pigging out with you is fun and all, but we’re going to turn into literal couch potatoes if we don’t stop.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Oh, if his father heard that one. Gladio laughed and ruffled the knitted hat on Iris’ head, the fabric dragging down just over the tops of her eyes. They fell into comfortable silence, the honking horns and traffic filling the gap in their conversation. Gladio was once again ready to call it a day and head home when they walked passed a shop of jewelry and fine accessories, one necklace in particular catching Gladio’s eye.

Finding a gift for Ignis was hard, especially when Gladio wanted it to be perfect . He didn’t want to get him any old present, something that anybody else could get him — no, he wanted to show Ignis how much he cared for him and how thankful he was to be his friend.

It was a bold move to even think of a gift this expensive, let alone for a friend of a few months. Gladio placed a gloved hand on the window, shielding his eyes and the glass from the glare of the sun so he could get a better look at the jewelry.

Luckily, Iris had been right next to him as he reached out for her, fingers closing around her tiny forearm. “Iris . . . wanna help me get a gift for Iggy?”

She shot him a knowing look, like she knew something he didn’t. Her skepticism, mixed with subtle amusement, was hard to ignore.

“What? What’s so funny? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Iris giggled, refusing to let go of whatever it was she was thinking. “No, nothing. It’s nothing, really. Just . . .” she snickered again behind her hands. “Yeah, ok, I’ll help you . . . but . . .”

“But what?”

His question was ignored, brushed aside in favor of keeping the peace between them. Iris clearly knew something that Gladio didn’t, but he wouldn’t get his answer today — or anytime soon, for that matter. With a resigned sigh, he held the door open to the jewelry shop and waited for her to step inside first, following behind soon after.

Gladio told himself he’d stop by Ignis’ place that afternoon after buying the gift, but he lost his nerve. Then, he swore he’d go the next morning, but somehow he managed to sleep in and then Iris needed him for something. The night before Giving Day wasn’t a good time either, the reason being that . . . well, there was no reason.

Gladio was scared out of his fucking mind and he couldn’t pinpoint why.

They hadn’t spoken to each other or texted since the start of the holiday break, so Gladio concluded that Ignis’ absence magnified his doubts. Or, was it because he thought the gift to be too much? Not enough? Would Ignis appreciate it, or would he laugh and throw it back in his face? Why did Gladio even care this much at all, anyway?

He wasn’t able to dwell on it for long, because Ignis always had a way of turning Gladio’s world upside down when he least expected it.

On Giving Day, presents laid scattered around the family room, wrapping paper strewn about and forgotten. On the couch, Iris snuggled with the life-sized Moogle plushie that Gladio bought for her, one of several Giving Day gifts from him. Gladio adorned a new hoodie, the Kingsglaive insignia emblazoned across the chest. It was the perfect way to ring in the holiday, popcorn in a bowl on the coffee table and piles of blankets to keep them warm while they watched crappy daytime TV.

“I'd like to bid $350!” the contestant exclaimed, waiting with bated breath as the show's host motioned to reveal whether she'd won.

“Idiot,” Iris mumbled, cramming more popcorn into her mouth. “575 would've been a better answer.”

Gladio smirked as the contestant cried out, her bid wrong and, funny enough, Iris’ answer being the correct one. “Lucky guess,” he teased, always in awe at her ability to get the answers to these shows right. For years, he'd asked her how the hell she did it, but Iris would only shrug, as if she didn't even know herself.

The doorbell rang and both Gladio and Iris locked eyes, confused. It wasn't like the post was delivering mail or packages today. Before he could get up to answer the door, Jared had already come out from wherever he'd been, shuffling to the foyer to see who was here.

From where Gladio was, he could make out hushed voices, but Jared blocked his line of vision to who was standing in front of him. For all he knew, it was someone going door-to-door, collecting donations for charity or peddling some pyramid scheme wares. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened during the holidays. Unable to hear much else from Jared and the guest, Gladio grew bored rather quickly and moved to turn the volume up on the television.

Another minute, maybe two, and Jared could be heard closing the door and walking to the family room, but he was accompanied by someone behind him. “Master Gladio, pardon the intrusion, but there is someone here to see you.”

By now, Gladio and Iris had sat up from their lazed positions, blinking the grogginess and dusting the popcorn salt from their fingers and shirts. Gladio held himself up with an arm along the backside of the couch. He hadn’t been anticipating anyone, and Clarus hadn’t mentioned to expect any visitors.

To his surprise, Jared moved aside, his hands at his side as he gave a very small bow. Ignis came around the corner, two wrapped gifts in his hands. The snow on his shoulders and head already melted, a constellation of water droplets beaded on his winter coat and soaked into his unruly hair.

Pleasantries weren’t even exchanged before Iris was up, scrambling to envelope Ignis in a hug, her arms wrapped around his midsection. “Ignis!”

Gladio rose to his feet, the couch a barrier between the two. “H-hey, Iggy . . . what’re you doing here?” His voice was barely loud enough to carry over the small distance, shock doing a fantastic job of keeping him from doing or saying much else. Sure, he’d invited Ignis to come by if he so pleased, but Gladio hadn’t really thought he’d take up his offer. The last time they’d even spoken was at Ignis’ house after that shitshow of a dinner, barely a peep between each other since.

Either Ignis’ cheeks flushed easily in the cold, or being in Gladio’s presence was too much for him. “I . . . well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. I won’t take up too much of your time, but I wanted to drop these gifts off for you two . . . in the spirit of Giving Day and all.”

He sounded so stiff and uptight, anxiety laced ever-so imperceptibly in his words. Lifting the presents in his hands as if to emphasize that’s all he was here for, Ignis tried to appear calm, cool, and collected — key word: tried. It had to be one of the only times Ignis seemed out of place and unnerved.

There were so many questions that begged to be asked, so many things Gladio wanted to know, but the first thing he could think to ask was, “How did you even get here? Did your parents let you borrow the car or something? You didn’t walk here or anything, did you?” The question was said in jest, but with Ignis, anything was possible.

He blushed harder. “Oh, I . . . well, I have a taxi running outside right now, so I wasn’t being facetious when I said I won’t take up too —”

Gladio was already lurching forward, unable to get to the window fast enough to prove to himself that, yes, a cab was indeed parked outside, the meter no doubt climbing higher and higher the longer Ignis stayed inside.

“Fucking shit, Ignis, you took a cab ? That can’t be cheap!” He ran a hand through his hair, growling in frustration. “Dammit, please let me pay the fare and I’ll take you home later.”

“Oh, no. Please, that’s not nece—”

“Jared,” Gladio interrupted, pointedly ignoring any of Ignis’ attempts at stopping him. “Could you please show Ignis where he can hang up his jacket? I’m gonna run outside and settle the fare.”

The look Ignis shot his way, his mouth gaping with a silent plea to just let the whole thing go, did nothing to stop Gladio. Still in his pajama bottoms and Kingsglaive hoodie, he shrugged on a heavy coat and stepped into a pair of boots without bothering to tie them. It wasn’t like he’d be long, anyway.

After paying the driver — and throwing a hefty tip on top of it for his time — Gladio slogged back up the driveway to the manor, an uncontrollable shiver vibrating down his entire body when he made it back inside. The comfortable heat made quick work of the snow that Gladio trudged in, turning it to water and puddling under his boots as he shoved them to the side and took off his coat.

The family room was now oddly vacant of anyone. Gladio expected to round the corner to see Ignis perched on the edge of the couch, or even the hard, tufted chaise that accented the corner of the room. As much of a staple as Ignis was in the Amicitia household at this point in the year, he still felt the need to have Gladio accompany him anywhere in the house that wasn’t just his bedroom. “I don’t want to be rude, Gladio,” Ignis would say — as if going to the linen closet down the hall for a blanket was sacred territory or something. With that in mind, Gladio figured he probably hadn’t gone far.

“Iggy?” he called out. “Hello?”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Iris’ tiny voice beckoned back, though Ignis remained unheard. The ‘we’ in her words had to mean he was with her, though.

Iris would drag Ignis away into the kitchen. All she had to do was give the puppy-dog eyes, change her pitch to something more whiney, and she’d have anyone in the palm of her hand. Astrals, Gladio hoped he went on his own free-will and not because he felt forced to.

By the looks of things, as Gladio came into the kitchen, Ignis was happily enjoying himself, watching and waiting as Iris piled ingredient after ingredient on the counters. Eggs, milk, sugar, flour, butter, oats . . . she was a girl on a mission, apparently, and couldn’t be stopped. Well, until Gladio stepped further into the kitchen and took a spot next to Ignis. “Already annoying our guest?” he teased, earning an eye roll from his little sister.

“Ignis said it was ok! He said he wanted to help make cookies! Right, Ignis?”

Gladio took a spot beside Ignis, bent at the waist and forearms resting on the counter. There was that faint scent of coffee again, a smell Gladio had come to associate with Ignis over time. “Is that what you said?”

Ignis pushed his glasses up on his nose, bashful and smirking. “Well, I couldn’t very well say no to her.”

Gladio leaned in, his lips close to Ignis’ ear as he said under his breath, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

The way Ignis turned to him, surveying him over the rims of his glasses with a mischievous glint in his eyes, caused Gladio’s breath to hitch. “And turn down an opportunity to spend time with you? What sort of miserly, unfestive person do you take me for?”

With a sly wink and a bump of his shoulder to Gladio’s arm, Ignis pushed off the counter and flipped through an opened cookbook with various holiday recipes. Gladio could’ve joined him, could’ve helped Iris assemble the ingredients on the counter, could’ve called out the next steps of the recipes, but it was much more fun watching the joy on Ignis’ face as he lost himself in the festivities of the day.

The fireplace crackled with a warm and welcoming flame, a red-hot glow dancing along the edges of the wood. The snow slowed its relentless torrent on Insomnia, flakes now floating to the fresh layer already on the ground. And there at the window, a beautiful silhouette, stood Ignis, his back to Gladio as he watched the peaceful setting outside.

After several batches of cookies and pastries were made, the three bundled up and found their way outside, escaping the heat of the kitchen. They weren’t supposed to be out there long, just wanting to crunch around in the snow for a minute, but a snowball was thrown, someone else declared war, and soon it was every person for themselves. No one was safe as they dove behind hastily crafted snow forts and bare trees, the echoes of their laughter absorbed by the snow drifts.

Of course, time flew and the sun eventually set. Things calmed down and, sometime during the evening, Iris passed out on the couch where Gladio tucked her in with a spare blanket. He’d take her upstairs to her bedroom later on, but he thought it best to let her stay where she was for now.

Gladio took in the scenery before him, coming into the family room with two piping hot mugs of black coffee. He sidestepped all of Iris’ presents strewn about and made his way to Ignis’ side, handing one of the mugs over to him.

“Thank you, Gladio.”

To the untrained ear, Ignis was saying ‘thank you’ for the simple cup of coffee, but there was more weight behind the words than Ignis let on. Gladio wondered if he was saying thank you for the cab fare. For the day in the kitchen, the laughter, and the fun. Most of all, on a day so focused on families and loved ones, Ignis seemed to be saying thank you to Gladio for opening his home to him and making him feel loved.

Gladio suffocated under the words he wanted to say. How could he articulate that Ignis had done more for him than he’d done for Ignis? It should’ve been him saying thank you — for being there when he needed him most, for the sympathetic ear he lent when Gladio was pissed about school and life . . . or, for just being an all around great friend.

Maybe he could show him, instead.

“I . . . I got you something the other day,” Gladio choked out, the faint feeling of apprehension daring him to stop while he was ahead. He didn’t. “I was going to bring it by today, but you beat me to it. Coming here, I mean.”

Ignis sputtered in his mug of coffee. “Oh?”

Gladio walked near the fireplace, searching for his gift. A slender box, small and easy to miss, was buried under some discarded wrapping paper and tissue. He let out a tiny yelp of victory when he found the gift, picking it up and tossing it in the air once, catching it in the very same hand.

The subtle lighting in the room reflected off of Ignis’ glasses, hiding his surprise. This — giving Ignis his present —  was almost as exciting as all the times that Gladio and Iris would sneak into each other’s rooms the night before Giving Day, giggling over their presents and playing with the toys they’d gotten each other. Only this time, there was something more — an anxiety he never had when trading gifts with anyone else. Gladio’s heart threatened to beat right out of his chest, trepidation written all over his face.

Handing the mug over, Ignis carefully peeled back the tape and corners of the present, unwilling to tear into it like a banshee. There wasn’t much to rip away, the box too small for much paper, and soon the dark gray box was revealed. With shaking fingers — or maybe over caffeinated nerves — Ignis cracked open the box and, almost immediately, his eyes widened.

“Oh . . . Gladio, I can’t. I can’t take this.”

Gladio knew this was how Ignis would react. He’d see the gift and try to hand it right back. True to form, he did just that, thrusting it back toward Gladio.

He wouldn’t accept it. No way in Hell would he take it back. “Yeah you can; I bought it for you. It reminded me of you . . .”

“Why’s that?”

Honestly, he didn’t have an answer to that. He could’ve made up some bullshit lie, but something told him Ignis would see right through it, so why bother? Instead, he shrugged and motioned for the box, carefully lifting the silver necklace with the skull charm attached. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Just did.”

Without much of a fight after that, Ignis turned away and allowed Gladio to clasp the necklace around the back of his neck. From here, Gladio swore he stopped breathing. His eyes glossed over every errant freckle, a constellation across his pale skin. The urge to brush his fingers over every single one was almost too much, a need he had to satisfy. Blood roared in his ears, loud and hard to ignore. Before he could trace from mark to mark, Ignis stepped away, assuming Gladio was done.

“I’ve never . . . no one has ever . . .” Words evaded Ignis as he played with the skull between his fingers. From where Ignis stood in relation to the fireplace, the flames reflected off the lenses of his glasses, making the joy in his eyes almost that much brighter. “Perhaps giving you your gift will be sufficient enough at expressing my gratitude, for both your present as well as your friendship.”

Gladio didn’t even have a chance to stop him. By the time he reached out for Ignis’ arm, he’d already skirted around Gladio and bolted right for the gifts he’d brought with him earlier that day. Gladio hadn’t seen this side of Ignis — someone so hurried and excited in their actions. The normally subdued Ignis was long gone at this point, high on cookies and snowball fights and coffee and . . . and . . .

When Ignis returned to Gladio, dashing around to stand in front of him again, he thrust the present into Gladio’s waiting arms. The present was heavier and wrapped well, paper and tape folded in clean and crisp lines. Then again, Gladio wouldn’t have expected anything less from him — the guy was nothing but clean and crisp lines.

“It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

Perplexed, one eyebrow raised and a slight smirk across his lips, Gladio carefully unwrapped the present in his hand, twisting and turning it every which way to get every bit of paper off of it. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but what he unwrapped was more than he could ask for.

A limited edition boxed book series from his favorite novelist, Henruit. Each dark colored book spine, black and maroon and navy and olive, faced out, woven with golden spindles down the length. Aghast, Gladio took one book out from the sleeve, carefully, as if the book itself was a fragile commodity, and placed the rest of them off to the side on an antique side table. The book cracked when he opened it, the pages smelling of adventure and history as he flipped from cover to cover.

When Gladio met Ignis’ eyes again, he tried to gesture with his hand to the book. He tried to say a few words. Fuck, he even tried to go in for a hug. All of that proved difficult, though, and Gladio could only mutter a muted, “Thank you.”

How the hell did he know? Gladio couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned reading Henruit, had ever read him around Ignis, had ever even had a single conversation about him, but somehow Ignis found out. Ignis pinpointed one of Gladio’s favorite pastimes and honed in on it, went to great lengths, and found a limited edition copy of the series he so loved.

“If you don’t like it — “

“No!” Gladio cut off, his thought immediately brought back to the family room and to Ignis in front of him. “No, please, I just . . . I don’t know how you . . . how did you . . .”

“Call it a hunch,” Ignis teased, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant stance.

As Gladio began to press him for more information, wanting to know about this ‘hunch’, Iris stirred on the couch, her covers rustling as she found comfort again in her sleep. So much for asking Ignis anything else.

“I should get going before it’s too late. I’ve already overstayed my welcome,” Ignis’ voice turned to a hushed whisper, careful not to wake Iris up.

Gladio, on the other hand, did not want Ignis to go. He didn’t want their time together to end. This was the first time they’d spent a day together where they weren’t working on schoolwork, papers, or their project. They had nothing to worry about, nothing to tend to — just hours and hours of pure, uninterrupted bliss.

And now it had to end.

Or did it?

Gladio stepped forward into Ignis’ space, the book still in hand. “I did say I’d take you home. Let me at least do that for you, please?”

“Oh, I couldn’t . . .”

“Please?” he insisted one more time, fighting the urge to rest a large hand on Ignis’ bicep.

Ignis looked to the ground before bringing his eyes back up to Gladio’s. “I won’t turn down a ride home in this weather, so long as you’re offering.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I am. I’d really like to. I’ll . . . just . . . um . . . let me grab my coat and shit. Gimme five minutes and I’ll box up some cookies for you, too, ok?”

Despite the perilous roads, black ice everywhere and snow banks bordering the streets, Gladio and Ignis made the most of the short time they had left together. When they had the choice to listen to holiday music or Ignis’ playlist, they unanimously chose the playlist, singing at the tops of their lungs.

Best Giving Day ever.

Chapter Text

He’d been under this tree — escaped to its safe haven — far more times than he could remember. It was where he felt alive. Free. Things were perfect here. Like the problems of his life couldn’t touch him here. Normally, he came here alone. That was fine, no one bothered him when he was alone.

The view granted from where he laid, sprawled out under the shade and the sun, hadn’t changed, the courtyard in the distance bustling with students and faculty alike. He propped his book open between his pinkie and thumb, whisked away by tales of knights and royalty and adventures. Things were peaceful. Calm. A tranquility Gladio hadn’t indulged in in a long time.

Only this time . . . this time there was a newfound sense of comfort unlike anything he’d experienced before. This time, someone was with him. A presence he found strength in. Someone who brought him a joy he’d long been deprived of.

Ignis sat with his back against the tree, lids drooped in a dreamlike state and with Gladio’s head nestled in his lap. If the Astrals created a heaven, this had to be it. There was nowhere else Gladio would’ve rather been than right there with him. His best friend. His confidant. His . . . well . . . everything .

It was the way Ignis carded his fingers through Gladio’s hair. The way he took sips of his canned Ebony coffee. How his necklace gleamed in the hollow of his neck — the necklace Gladio had bought him. When he took a deep breath and relished the fresh air, more relaxed than ever before.

“Gladio, are you alright?”

Oops, he’d been caught staring. It’s not like Gladio could help it. Ignis had this way of looking so effortlessly beautiful, like he could get caught up in a torrential downpour and still come out looking like perfection. Why bother denying the obvious, anymore?

Acknowledging Ignis’ question with a simple hum, Gladio moved and shuffled around to get comfortable again. It was only when Ignis played with Gladio’s hair again, occasionally running a hand along the buzzed sides of his head, that Gladio closed his book and, subsequently, his eyes. Goosebumps pimpled his arms the longer Ignis’ fingers tangled in his dark locks and his stomach flipped and fluttered.

It felt like a dream.

There’s no way something as perfect as this could be real. Ignis’ soothing touch. His piercing, emerald eyes. Gladio reached up to touch the side of his face, fingers tracing down to the delicate chain around Ignis’ neck. Was that Ignis’ heartbeat he felt?

Dear Six, please don’t let me wake up.

The edges of the world blurred and frayed.  

An alarm.

A shrill buzzing.

Once under the lush shade of his tree, head resting in Ignis’ lap, Gladio’s eyes snapped open to a pitch-black room and his ceiling fan spinning overhead. No longer was he basking in the warmth of the sun and Ignis’ attention. No, he was alone and cold, covers kicked to the bottom of the bed like they didn’t matter — they didn’t, especially when Gladio turned into a living, breathing furnace in the middle of the night. On the nightstand, his alarm declared it was time to wake up for the first day back to school, relentless in its attempt to get Gladio out of bed.

Groaning, he rolled over and slapped a hand on top of the clock, silencing it immediately, before rolling back onto his back. The world was still dark, barely awake at this time of morning, but Gladio’s thoughts were alive, racing and unending. With his fingers interlaced over his bare chest, his eyes searched the darkness for answers, something to tell him what the fuck his dream meant.

Did he have . . . feelings ? For Ignis? Did his subconscious see something that his conscience didn’t? Did these butterflies signify something more? Fumbling over words, sweaty palms, heart pounding . . . could that mean Gladio thought of Ignis more than a friend?

Oh, who was he kidding? No. Impossible. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It was nothing more than his brain piecing real life things together into a pretense of something that made sense.

Not that it made any sort of sense— on the contrary, it confused him more.  

As Gladio sat up, kicking his legs over the edge of his bed and his feet hitting the floor, he scrubbed a hand down his face, stifling a yawn. It wasn’t that easy to forget how being in Ignis’ lap made him feel. The way Ignis chuckled, the sun shining like a spotlight on him, replayed over and over in Gladio’s head — a movie he couldn’t turn off.

He should’ve been pissed and moody at the prospect of heading back to school after the last couple of weeks off, but he wasn’t. He felt . . . light. Like nothing could touch him. He was more excited than he’d been in gods knew how long. He was ready to go.

He wanted to get to school.

He wanted to see Ignis, even if it was only in passing. He didn’t care. Just a few seconds. That’s all he needed.

Switching the light on at his bedside, Gladio stood up and began his morning routine.

Except, Ignis was swamped with work. Quick texts back and forth told Gladio that Ignis had been drowning in papers and taking care of His Royal Highness since they last saw each other on Giving Day. A week went by, then two. Then a third week.

And Gladio was losing his goddamn mind.

Whatever this newfound fascination was with Ignis, Gladio needed to see him.

At this point in the year, the track team was gearing up for meets and competitions, making Ignis’ spare time even more sparse. He knew the team met in the gymnasium where a full-sized track lined the entire perimeter of the building. The weather was still far too cold to practice outside, so the team prepared inside, readying themselves for the season.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing if he just happened by for a quick chat, would it? Maybe do some light research, all in the name of his paper? It wasn’t like he’d ever seen Ignis compete or participate in his extracurriculars (unless you counted listening to him play piano with Iris, but that seemed a little different in Gladio’s mind), so this would just be another way for him to get to know Ignis. Really learn more about him.

The day crawled to an end. When it did, Gladio found himself dashing down the halls, through covered corridors, and off to the gymnasium where he was confident the track team would be. The winter air was still bitter and chilled, nipping at Gladio’s exposed cheeks and nose. No matter — at the pace he was running, he wouldn’t fall prey to the cold, his heart rate and layers of clothing keeping him comfortably warm.

He opened the large, ornate door — maybe even a little too decorative for a gymnasium — and hurried inside, finding a spot on a bench along the edge of the paved track. The team’s coach barked instructions, pointing to the opposite end of the track. Something about having to sprint as fast as they could, and jog back to the starting point. It sounded like a sophisticated form of torture, one that only someone like Ignis would appreciate.

No wonder he liked being on the track team.

Speaking of, Gladio looked for Ignis, trying not to appear too eager as he sat up straight, eyebrows raised and his bottom barely on the bench at this point. When he found him, standing tall on the far left side all alone, Gladio beamed and waved, earning a very small and shy wave in return.

On the coach’s orders, everyone fell into place and waited for his signal, eager to begin. One by one, the runners were sent down the track at their fastest pace, aiming to best the last person, as well as their own personal records. Friendly competition all in the name of being number one — basically the spirit that Insomnia Academy embodied.

When Ignis’ turn came up, Gladio paid attention, pulse quickening. Standing there, focused, Gladio took Ignis in, drinking in the way his crossed one arm over his chest, then the other. He jumped in place, completing some high knees and warming up before he began.

He let his eyes drift over the muscles of Ignis’ legs, exposed by the shorts he wore. Toned arms and shoulders, alabaster white and normally hidden under his uniform, were now on display for Gladio to admire, remembering back to Giving Day and the crackling fireplace and their close proximity and their synced breathing and the necklace and —

Gladio’s heart skipped a beat — or maybe stopped altogether, who knew? — when he caught sight of the tiny skull charm still adorning the chain around Ignis’ neck. He didn’t think Ignis was lying as he gushed over the gift, but it meant a great deal to Gladio to see for himself that Ignis still wore it. Had anyone noticed? Did anyone ask him where he got it from? It wasn’t like Ignis wore any jewelry, so it would be good conversation fodder for anyone who bothered to pay attention.

Ignis did this to him a lot lately — made Gladio lose himself in his train of thought. It wasn’t the first time he thought about the little things with Ignis, but it definitely was the first time he felt a certain way about it. Or, maybe it wasn’t? Ugh, what the hell was going on? When did he start to love Ignis’ presence? What was the exact moment he’d stopped hating everything Ignis was and started revering his —

Get a grip, Amicitia . Keep it together!

It wasn’t until he felt a woosh of air and caught the last nanosecond of a blurred figure that he realized Ignis had bolted past him, long legs carrying him to the finish. His speed, much like everything else about him, was unparalleled. True, he had his stride on his side, but that could only get someone so far. They had to work for their personal bests, putting effort into their practices. To Ignis, there was no such thing as an ‘off day’, even in his extracurriculars.

When he crossed over the finish line and slowed to a stop, a whistle blew, loud and short, alerting the next runner to step up and get ready. Just as Gladio wondered if Ignis would pass him by, walk back to the starting line without so much as a ‘hello’, Ignis dragged his feet over to where Gladio sat, hands on his hips as he regained his breath.

Oh, no. Be cool. Stay calm. Wait . . . what is going on? What’s with the fucking nerves?

“Gladio!” Ignis greeted between wheezing breaths. “What are you doing here?”

Gladio offered to move his bag off the bench and make room for Ignis, but Ignis held a hand up without a word, showing he was fine with standing. Probably for the best. “How am I supposed to get more work done on our paper if I don’t see you in all aspects of your life?”

Ignis kept his hands on his hips, a trickle of sweat falling from his collarbone into his tank top, disappearing from sight. The tank top clung to his lithe frame and his shorts hugged in all the right places. Gladio averted his eyes, a blush creeping on his cheeks and nearly impossible to hide. Ignis was too busy regaining his stamina to notice, thank the Six. “You make a great point. It would behoove both of us for you to observe.”

“ Scientia !” the coach called out, stern. “What the hell do you think this is? Social hour?”

“Fucking prick.” Gladio chuckled as Ignis rolled his eyes. “I should get back. But, I do hope you stay. I always do my best when I have an audience,” he said, a mischievous lilt in his voice and . . . was that a wink? Gladio’s eyes went wide, the crimson deeper across his face.

Oh, sweet Astrals.

Ignis wasn’t joking.

For the remainder of the practice, he blew past all of his teammates. He ran circles around them. He cleared hurdles, some taller than Gladio had ever seen. He sprinted and raced and did it all with that smug, confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips. This was all a game to him, everything else a slight inconvenience.

Practice ended without any parting words, just that everyone had to be back tomorrow at four. Gladio found himself, again, the object of Ignis’ attention as he came over, drenched in sweat and hair clumped and stuck to his forehead. “Get much for your side of the paper?”

No. Yes. Maybe?

“I have some stuff,” he said, cool and smooth like his tongue wasn’t trying to trip him up. While trying to stay self-assured on the outside, Gladio waged war with himself inside. When did he become so damn timid? He couldn’t breathe. Maybe he was getting sick or something. It was flu season after all.

Ignis smiled, nodding once. “All good things, I hope.”

Yes. Always.

“Did you need a ride?” Gladio offered, the words tumbling from his mouth faster than he meant them to. Too eager.

Rivulets of sweat trickled down Ignis’ arms, his chest, his neck. He cocked his head from one side to the other, playfully weighing his options. They both knew there weren’t any other options — public transportation or Gladio’s sleek car. It was a no-brainer. “Give me ten to get cleaned up? Grab my stuff? I won’t take too long.”

Punctual and true to his word, Ignis came out of the locker room, showered and with his bags slung over his shoulder. Instead of donning his uniform again, Gladio was surprised to see a dressed down, casual Ignis strolling toward him, wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt. Gladio almost didn’t recognize him, but that accent of his proved exactly who he was. “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Oh . . . ah . . . uh . . . it’s no big deal.”

They began their walk to the student parking lot, located on the opposite side of the school from where the gymnasium was situated. “Iris has someone to tend to her?”

“Yeah, she’s good. Jared’s in charge of her today. She had a dentist appointment earlier, so he had to take her out of school early.” They walked in step with each other, the halls and corridors empty and classrooms dark. With no one around, the school felt like a ghost town. “So . . . uh . . . how the fuck did you get so fast?”

“Pardon?”

Gladio cleared his throat. “You blew the rest of the team out of the water today. You’re clearly the best that this school has! How do you do that?”

It was Ignis’ turn to be bashful, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose — possibly an attempt to hide his face. “It’s nothing special. I’m not near good enough to be considered the best, but I do try.”

With a jab of his elbow, Gladio scoffed at Ignis’ modesty. “Oh, fuck off. You know it’s true. Don’t be humble.” When Ignis didn’t respond, Gladio nudged him again. He had an idea, a playful one, but the thought was enticing.  “Alright, Mr. Humility. You don’t think you have what it takes? How about we race.”

That got Ignis’ attention. “Race?”

By now, the car was within eyesight, but still a good distance away. “Yeah! You say you’re not that great? Then let’s see if I can outrun you. From here to my car. Winner gets bragging rights. You in?”

Ignis had a lot of looks, most of which Gladio was familiar with. He knew when Ignis was in a good mood and when he was pissed. His eyes expressed more than his words ever did. So it was no surprise when Gladio looked down at him and saw the fire and the passion ignited behind those glasses, the smirk taunting Gladio with the promise of a challenge.

And Gladio was ready.

“You think you have what it takes to keep up?”

Yes. Absolutely.

“You were quick to brush me off before when I said you were the best.”

“You have a point.” Ignis gestured between them to the vehicle. “Just to your car?”

“Just to my car.”

Ignis stopped, making Gladio do the same. “On your mark . . .”

One foot in front of the other, stance wide, they stared each other down with a heated look shared between them. The tension wasthick, but jovial. Both boys wanted to win — wanted to see who was really better.

They smirked. “Get set . . .”

Ignis was fast. Gladio had seen him in action, but he thought he had a good chance at coming close in beating him. It could be done. Ignis was great, but he couldn’t be great at everything . It was time to put that theory to the test.

“Go!”

Ok, maybe Gladio was wrong. Before he knew it, Ignis was a hair’s length ahead of him, feet pounding the pavement with all the speed he could muster. He had to keep up. Had to keep going. It didn’t take long for Gladio’s lungs to feel like they’d caught fire, his legs to burn with exertion. As fast as he thought he was going, Ignis was right there, keeping pace.

Step for step, stride for stride, Gladio thought maybe his endless stamina would give him an edge. Hell, he had a good height advantage, but that meant nothing now. The faster they went and the closer they got, the farther the car seemed to be. Why did it feel like they’d been running for forever? Whose idea was it to start so far back in the parking lot?

Fucking idiot.

Almost there. Gladio pulled from whatever energy reservoir deep inside of him and pounded out the last bit of distance. Don’t lose focus. Keep up. Finish strong. He couldn’t breathe, but he kept going. Go, go, go. Faster, faster.

Arm outstretched, fingers extended, Gladio lunged for his car, slapping the side of it with loud finality, as if to say, ‘I got here first. Beat that !’

Except, that same sound echoed on a spot right beside him just as he did so. Panting, face red and glasses askew, Ignis shot Gladio with the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen.

They’d tied.

“Fucking . . . shit . . .” Gladio gasped, a stitch in his side making it unbearable to breathe. “You nearly kicked my ass!”

“I could . . . say the same . . . for you . . .” Ignis responded in kind, continuing to prop himself up on the car with a splayed hand on the hood. “I . . . let you . . . win . . .”

Gladio tried, and failed, to look Ignis in the eyes. He could barely look at him at all. Gods, he was gorgeous, face flushed and glowing. “Bullshit. Don’t . . . be a sore loser, Iggy . . .”

They stood there, regaining their breaths and chuckling at the same time. When the pain in Gladio’s legs subsided and the beet-red color on Ignis’ face faded, Gladio looped an arm around Ignis’ shoulders, pulling him in for a half-hug. “C’mon,” he said, ruffling Ignis’ hair. “Let’s go.”

The ride home was as expected — lots of talking, catching each other up on what they’d missed since they last saw each other, griping and venting. The usual.

How was Iris? Did she enjoy her gift? That necklace looks nice on you, still like it? How’s His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass? Don’t talk about him in that tone, but since you’re asking, he’s faring as well as expected, especially for someone in his position.

As they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and soon Gladio was pulling up to Ignis’ townhome, still as pristine and perfect as ever. Putting the car in park and squeezing the steering wheel like his life depended on it, Gladio took one deep inhale and exhale before speaking. It was no big deal, so why was what he was about to ask so damn hard? “Hey . . . Iggy . . . you think you’d have time to hang out this weekend? Kinda like we did on Giving Day? You know . . . if you want?”

Hand on the handle of the door, Ignis paused and shook his head. Strangely enough, the question didn’t take him by surprise like Gladio thought it would. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I wish I could, Gladio. Unfortunately, His Highness needs me this weekend to help with some matters at the Citadel. I promised myself to him a few weeks back and it’s crucial that I be there for him.” He sighed and shook his head, sad acceptance on his face. “If only we could will more hours to the days, but unfortunately that’s not possible.”

It felt like Gladio had been splashed with cold water, sobered up from the euphoric emotions he’d felt all afternoon in Ignis’ presence. Who was he kidding? At the end of the day, Ignis was still Ignis. Gladio would have to stand in line behind His Highness, Insomnia Academy, and whatever — or whoever — Ignis had promised himself to.

Embarrassment washed over him, afraid that maybe he’d overstepped a line in their friendship — professional partnership, if he was honest. Not that he wanted to be honest. The rejection was too hard, even if he wasn’t supposed to take it personally. There was nothing to take personally.

Gladio ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. “Yeah, right? Ain’t that the truth. Well . . . you know . . . if you ever want to hang out outside of our project or whatever . . .”

He was trying -- and failing -- to sound like he didn’t give a shit. They were just friends, but this didn’t feel very friendly. Ignis smiled, reassuring, but it only made Gladio even more antsy. What else was there to say? Nothing. There was nothing. “Thank you for the ride, Gladio. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And, with that, Ignis stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

Laying in bed that night, Gladio couldn’t shake Ignis from his mind. One hand under his head, another resting on his stomach, his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, his mind focused on getting to the bottom of this sudden change in his heart.

Was it hormones? A crush? Confusion? What the fuck ?

Ignis was nice. He was smart, kind, fucking hilarious, sarcastic, arrogant, and maybe . . .

Maybe he was a little more than a . . .

Gladio groaned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, blotches of color exploding behind his lids. This was ridiculous. They were just really good friends. Best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. He was overthinking shit.

On his nightstand, plugged into the wall, his phone vibrated to life, clattering across the surface. Heart leaping in his chest, Gladio sat up and sprang for the phone, hoping against all hope that he’d see Ignis’ name on the screen. Instead, he saw the last person he wanted to see. Fucking Luche.

What the fuck did he want?

Luche (9:42 p.m.) - hey asshole, where the fuck u been lately?

With a long, drawn-out growl of a breath, Gladio tapped out a reply, the screen bright in his otherwise darkened room.

Gladio (9:43 p.m.) - been busy. you know how it is.

Not even a full minute passed before Gladio received a response.

Luche (9:43 p.m.) - no it seems like youve been avoiding us. too good for your friends now? lol

Gladio wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take it like a joke or what, but his thumb hovered over the keyboard, wondering how to answer. He didn’t have to wonder for long, because another text came in.

Luche (9:46 p.m.) - anyway, theres a party this weekend at Ulrics place. hes shipping out soon and i guess he wants to have one last hoorah before he leaves. you better come. its gonna be big.

Oh, shit. Nyx. Guilt overcame Gladio as he found himself back to the last time he’d been at Nyx’s house. How could something that happened only months ago feel like a lifetime? Not only that, but to not have kept in contact with Nyx, the only other person in Gladio’s life who tried to make an effort . . . it stung.

And now, to read that he was leaving Insomnia? It read like an unexpected punch to the gut. But, as much as Gladio wanted to go and wish him all the best, going to a party where Luche and his friends were could only spell trouble. He couldn’t go. It would be bad news. A text or something would suffice.

Then, images of Ignis floated through his mind, derailing any thoughts he had before about Luche and Nyx and parties and deployments. Gladio had done alright with weekends alone, but that was before things changed . He wasn’t sure what or how, but something changed. Now, he didn’t want to spend the weekend alone. The thought of it was unbearable. He figured it was better to be around people he tolerated, drinking to forget, than it was to surrender to the darkness of his own thoughts.

It wasn’t like he had to actively hang out with everyone. Gladio could go and find a nice, quiet corner, drink himself into a stupor, and either pass out in one of the many bedrooms upstairs or take a cab home. This time, there wouldn’t be any drama. No Ignis. No fights. Nothing. Just your typical, run-of-the-mill high school/college party — complete with alcohol, drugs, and sex.

However . . . there was the added hurdle of asking his father if he could go out, but Gladio reasoned that his father didn’t have to know this time. There wasn’t a test coming up that he was blowing off studying for — in fact, his weekend was completely free of any obligations, oddly enough. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

Luche (9:55 p.m.) - hello? you in or what? don’t bitch out like you always do lately.

He wasn’t going for anyone else but himself and for Nyx, his friends be damned. Yeah, that’s what he’d tell himself.

Gladio (9:58 p.m.) - yeah, sure. whatever, im in.

He sighed, dropping the phone screen down onto his chest with a loud thwack . It really had been a long time since he’d entertained the thought of doing anything with his friends, and obviously they’d taken notice. Fine — he’d go to the damn party, drink, wish Nyx luck on his endeavors, and get Ignis off his mind.

It beat moping around the house over a stupid fucking friendship.

Chapter Text

He didn’t need their encouragement —  their egging him on — but it definitely didn’t hurt.  

One more left. Just one more beer.

With a fist in the air, the crowd around him cheering his name, Gladio swallowed the last of the beers he chugged. Crowe had been so close — so damn close — but Gladio had always been good at this, at downing any sort of alcohol like it didn’t faze him. Beer. Whiskey. Scotch. Hell, he surprised the skeptics when he proved he could guzzle an entire bottle of wine without stopping.

No one could beat him when it came to party games and drinking. No one.

Sneaking out that night had been easy — mere child’s play. Though Clarus had come home at a relatively sane hour in the evening, he went right up to his room and shut the door behind him, barely a word from his mouth. Jared said his goodbyes and left soon after that, leaving Gladio to make sure Iris was in bed and all the household lights off. After that, it was just a matter of tiptoeing down the hall and out the back door, around the front of the house, and into his car.

When he got to Nyx’s place, a feeling of familiarity washed over him, like coming home after a long time away. It really had been a long time since Gladio had come to one of these types of parties. He’d spent so many nights and weekends lately with Ignis or buckling down with his schoolwork that he hadn’t felt the need to escape as much as he used to. There were still hidden bottles stashed around his room, but even those weren’t burned through at the rate they used to be.

Gladio normally abhorred these things, but tonight was an exception. Tonight, he needed this. Between battling his emotions over Ignis and all the things he kept pushing down (his mother, his father, school, his future, saying goodbye to Nyx), it was nice to have that release again. He didn’t want to think or worry or stress anymore — he wanted to let go.

It was only one night. How bad could it be?

Upon walking into the house, Gladio received a very warm welcome. People he hadn’t talked to in a long while greeted him with drinks, high-fives, and ‘Where have you been?’s. His friends — Luche, Crowe, Tredd, Pelna — all gave him a hard time at first, ragging on him for having to work with Ignis and for not keeping up with them the way he used to. “Need us to take care of Scientia? You know we will! It must be killing you to have to be around him.” Gods, if they only knew . . . not that he’d breathe a word of their friendship — both to protect Ignis and to protect himself.

The shit-talking and teasing, though fun at first, dragged on for longer than Gladio would’ve liked. After he reached the bottom of the bottle, Gladio used that as a great opportunity to duck away for the time being, saying he needed to grab another drink and look for Nyx. “Should probably wish him luck and all that shit.”

Gladio didn’t find Nyx — despite searching every square inch of his family’s lavish mansion — but he did find where all the alcohol had been set up, kegs and liquor and craft beers and wine lined up and ready for consumption. He cracked open a beer and drank it right there. Then another. One more. Soon, standing there by the makeshift bar, Gladio lost count of how many drinks he’d gulped down. Had he been there for minutes? Hours? Had time passed at all ?

Things became soft, the edges of his conscious blurring and softening as he teetered on the edge of a total blackout. Gladio always liked that moment between total sobriety and an utter drunken stupor, suspended in a haze of mind-numbing nothingness.

Scenes, events, and moments strung together in a disjointed mess: Crowe’s dare that she could outdrink him; accepting a cigarette, and then another (“For the road. You got a lighter, right?”) from some classmate whose name eluded him; more drinks and games and curls of smoke.

Things calmed down a bit when he joined everyone in the living room, everyone shouting over each other. Gladio leaned against the wall, rolling the cigarette between his fingers and pretending like he wasn’t as drunk as he actually was — having something to stand against helped a lot. The world stopped spinning when he did.

Gladio hadn’t exactly been listening to the conversation when he was jolted back to reality by Pelna, throwing his arm over Gladio’s shoulders in some sort of sloppy hug, ignoring the massive height difference. “Man, we missed you,” he crowed, pointing a finger in Gladio’s face. “Shit ain’t the same when you’re not around!”

“Oh, fuck off , Pel!!” Luche admonished, pushing Pelna and knocking him off balance. Crowe and Tredd cackled, finding humor somewhere in all of this. “Don’t be such a whiny bitch!”

Gladio wanted to admit he missed them too, but he lacked the poker face necessary to pull a lie of that magnitude off while this drunk. In all honesty, when he wasn't around them, they rarely, if ever, crossed his mind. Not like when he was away from . . .

Ignis.

Emerald green eyes seared themselves into Gladio’s thoughts, dancing and lit up with a mesmerizing sense of wonder. Fair skin and ashen hair, rounded out with a devilish smirk that only appeared when Ignis’ arrogant side was exposed . . . Fuck, Gladio had gone almost all night without thinking of him once, and now here he was, closing his eyes to keep the image of him alive in his mind for as long as he possibly could.

God dammit.

“Just because you’re a dick, doesn’t mean the rest of us are!”

“No, I’m just not a pussy like you!”

“Oh, grow up!”

Trying to hold onto Ignis, on top of dealing with the crowd and the music, bass thumping and bodies grinding together on the makeshift dance floor, became too much for Gladio. The house was hot and only getting hotter the longer he stayed inside bullshitting with everyone. He had to get out of here. “I’ll be right back!” he yelled over the noise, gesturing toward the patio.

“You gettin’ sick, Amicitia?”

Shaking his head made his head swim for half a second, but he recovered. “No way,” he slurred, snatching up the new drink he’d only just come back with as if to make a point, a statement that he was totally fine . “I’m going outside because it’s too fucking hot in here!”.

Winding his way through the throngs of people, occasionally mumbling an ‘excuse me’, Gladio stepped out onto the back deck, down the steps and out to the courtyard where he knew no one else would be. Nyx always liked the courtyard of his parent’s house the best. It would be the perfect place to get some air, especially on a night like tonight, when the winter weather was beginning to give way to a more balmy spring temperature.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his drink in one hand, Gladio approached the custom-made pergola at the far end of the courtyard, right behind the fountain. It was empty, just like he figured it would be. Three bench swings hung along each side of the pergola: Gladio took a seat on the one to the left, shrouded in darkness more so than the other two.

Alone. He was alone again with nothing else but his drink, his cigarette, and his thoughts. It was a task in and of itself to get the damn cigarette lit, his thumb fumbling with the sparkwheel several times before successfully lighting a flame. He brought it to the cigarette perched from his lips and took a drag, tipping his head back and blowing the smoke up toward the cloudless night sky.

Coming to this party was supposed to help him deal with his confusion regarding his feelings toward Ignis. Instead, he was outside with a flutter in his stomach and a pang in his heart, unsure what to do now. Gladio flicked the ash from his cigarette and took another gulp of his drink, his world spinning and spinning like a ride he wasn’t sure he wanted off from.

Maybe actually texting Ignis would make things better instead of moping around like a fool with a crush.

Fuck, was that what this was?

A crush ?

He had a crush on Ignis.

Time was an abstract concept to Gladio as he fished his phone out from his pocket. He placed his drink on the ground and kicked his foot to get the swing to start rocking, lulled by the gentle motion he created. What was Ignis doing right now? Would he even want to hear from Gladio?

Texting Ignis was the best idea he’d ever had, or so Gladio thought — after all, alcohol had a way of making everything seem like a great idea, until the next morning when regret would surely settle in. One handed, Gladio scrolled through his phone until he found Ignis and his text message history, emboldened by his drinks.

Gladio (1:17 a.m.) - hey

 

Gladio (1:18 a.m.) - hey iggy

 

Gladio (1:18 a.m.) - u aaslep

 

Gladio (1:19 a.m.) - hey ig

Ok, maybe he was drunker than he originally thought. He thought he was just fine , but the keyboard blurred, the letters a jumbled mess on the screen. Meh, maybe his fingers were too big and that was the reason for the typos. Yeah, that was it.

Gladio squinted and then closed one eye, hoping that maybe doing so would make everything clearer. As expected, it definitely did not.

Before he sent another garbled text, his phone lit up and alerted him to an incoming message. With a goofy grin, giggling like a child, Gladio unlocked his phone.

Ignis (1:21 a.m.) - Gladio? Is everything alright?

Until now, Gladio never took Ignis as the type to outright worry over him about anything . Ignis obviously cared , but it was on a friendly basis. Right? Maybe? Regardless, right now, Gladio kinda liked the fact that Ignis was concerned enough to ask if things were ok. He placed the cigarette in his mouth again and wrote his text.

Gladio (1:22 a.m.) - hi iggy.

 

Gladio (1:23 a.m.) - i mis u

 

Gladio (1:23 a.m.) - im drunk

 

Gladio (1:23 a.m.) - sleepin?

 

Gladio (1:23 a.m.) - did i wake u

 

Gladio (1:24 a.m.) - wht r yo u doin

Somewhere inside, the party attendees cheered about something and there was a splash of someone jumping into the Ulric’s pool. It wasn’t enough to entice Gladio away from the pergola or his phone.

Ignis (1:24 a.m.) - I was about to head to sleep, but I’m awake. I had homework to finish and Citadel work to research.

 

Ignis (1:24 a.m.) - Are you alright? Do you need a ride? Where are you?

Damn, there were those butterflies again. Ugh, if only Ignis were here with him right now . . . or if they were anywhere together. Gladio would take anything right now. Nearing the end of his cigarette, he dropped it to the ground and smashed it under his shoe, extinguishing it.

Gladio (1:25 a.m.) - i miss yuo

 

Gladio (1:25 a.m.) - so much

 

Gladio (1:26 a.m.) - i wihs u wer here

 

Gladio (1:26 a.m.) - nyx had a parrty

 

Gladio (1:27 a.m.) - i miss you

He was rambling now with no signs of stopping, the alcohol and drags of his cigarette acting as the perfect lubricant for divulging how much he cared for Ignis.

Ignis (1:29 a.m.) - Ha, you really are intoxicated. Are you safe, at least? If you need a ride, please call me. I want to make sure you’re ok.

 

And then, after a couple minutes of silence, Gladio received, quite possibly, the best text message he’d ever gotten. He grinned from ear to ear.

Ignis (1:32 a.m.) - I miss you, too. I truly do.

“Heard a rumor you were around here, somewhere,” a familiar voice teased. Gladio snapped his head up and cursed under his breath, unaware anyone had been looking for him. His jerky movements and surprise almost knocked the beer beside his foot over.

When he found the source of the statement,  it brought a small, drunken smile to his lips. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Nyx stood there at the front of the pergola, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess that was Gladio. “Mind if I, uh . . .  take a seat?”

Gladio didn’t have to say anything for Nyx to understand that he was more than welcome to sit beside him, bodies close with barely a sliver of space between them. It was nice. Comforting. Aside from Ignis, Nyx truly had been the one other person he could rely on to be there for him for almost anything — even after the feelings and the messiness of their ‘relationship’ got in the way.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all night. Glad I found you,” Nyx started again, gripping the edge of the seat with both hands and taking over as the one to continue moving the swing. A considerable amount of silence went by, the creaking of the swing and the distant sounds of the party being the only things they heard. “So . . . who you texting feverishly all alone out here?”

Gladio sighed, not really sure where to start. He had so much he wanted to say, but this was Nyx he was talking to. Damn alcohol. “Ignis Scientia,” he slurred. Bloodshot eyes found Nyx’s and Gladio flashed him a toothy grin. “Remember? My project partner?”

“Ahhh, yeah, I do. You talked about him last time I saw you, but you weren’t exactly thrilled to be working with him.” Nyx poked Gladio’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “Smiling? Blushing? Late night texts? Something’s sure as fuck changed between you two.”

Gladio leaned down to pick up his drink, almost tumbling out of his seat in the process. Thank goodness for Nyx, quick to reach out and save him from falling flat on his face. After being righted, Gladio chugged what was left of his drink, stalling for time. It was one thing to somewhat come to terms with his thoughts and feelings about someone he considered his best friend, but to say it out loud? To voice that out there into the universe for the gods and everyone on Eos and Nyx to hear? It was . . .

“You like him, don’t you?”

Gladio froze, his drink still at his lips. You like him. You like him. You like him . The words echoed over and over in his head, a litany that both pleased and tormented him.

What did Gladio want to say? Yes, he liked Ignis. He liked him a lot. A whole lot . He craved Ignis’ attention in the worst way. He was the first thing he thought about when he woke up these days and was the last thing on his mind as he drifted to sleep. Ignis made him want to be the best person he could be — a hell of a jump from months ago when he didn’t give a flying fuck about much of anyone or anything.

And honestly? That scared the everloving shit out of him.

Gladio tried to create some distance between himself and Nyx, but Nyx stopped him with a hand on his arm. It wasn’t accusing or forceful, but the vulnerability was more than Gladio could take. Instead of doing what he wanted to do — run like hell — Gladio shrugged nonchalantly, finally moving his drink away from his mouth. “I dunno.”

“You ‘dunno’? You ‘dunno’ if you like him or not? C’mon, man . . . this is me you’re talking to.” Nyx inclined his head toward the sky. “Unless . . . you don’t feel like you can —”

No, no, no. This was not at all about whether he could talk to him or not. This was more than that. Amidst the haziness and incoherence, Gladio stopped Nyx before he finished his train of thought. “He’s . . . I . . . I don’t . . . . he’s too . . . fuck . . .” He bent at the waist and buried his face in his hands, groaning and mumbling incoherently. “I dunno what to do.”

The statement hung heavy between them, something that no amount of helpful advice could fix. This was something Gladio needed to work through on his own, and he knew that Nyx understood that. So, he did the best thing he could do — he sat there under the late night sky and kept the momentum of the swing going.

“Ahhhh, Amicitia . . . you are something else.” Gladio heard Nyx snort and felt his hand splay across his back, rubbing every now and then for comfort. For reassurance. For that last bit of contact before they officially went their separate ways. “You’ll get there. You’ve always had a knack for knowing what to do when the time called for it. And if you need someone to help you? To kick your ass into gear?” His smile bled into his words. “I’ll be an e-mail away. Day or night. No matter where I’m at or what our situation is, ok?”

Before Gladio could utter a thank you or some smartass remark, a crash, followed by an outburst of noise and shouting, broke the peace outside on the pergola. Gladio slurred out a quiet, “What was that?” at the same time that Nyx growled, “What the fuck ?” Both were up on their feet instantly, but Nyx was already several steps up the walkway by the time Gladio stumbled off the structure. He tried to keep up, but that proved impossible with his vision split in two, holding him back from moving any faster.

The atmosphere inside had changed drastically. People were still drinking and having fun, but it wasn’t what it was before. Conversations ceased and someone found it necessary to turn the music a notch lower. Gladio moved between the congregations of people, inching his way over to where Nyx was, holding someone back with arms up under their armpits and over their shoulder.

Someone with blonde hair and a temper unlike anyone else.

Fucking Luche.

“What’s going on?” Gladio asked, apprehensive and eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation. “Luche?”

Luche, blood dripping from his nose, jabbed a finger at the person in question. “This fuckwad came at me first!”

“Oh, fuck you ! Let’s go, you know I’ll kick your fucking ass!”

Even though Nyx was doing a great job at holding Luche back, that still left this guy — dammit, the name eluded him (they’d been to several of the same parties in the past), but Gladio vaguely recognized him by his letter jacket as a student from a rival academy —  open to do whatever he pleased, including rushing at Luche like a man on a mission. Acting fast, Gladio stepped between them and held both hands up to stop him, forcing him back several steps.

Disoriented and pissed, he asked, “Who the fuck do you think you are, hm? His knight in shining armor? Stay the fuck out of this!”

Don’t let shit get out of hand. Stay strong. Don’t give in. “C’mon . . .” Gladio mumbled, trying to placate the kid. Fuck, the alcohol and cigarette smoke was strong on his breath. “You really wanna do this here?”

“Oh, do   I wanna do this? Why don’t you tell your friend to watch his fucking mouth before he decides to run it at me, yeah? Maybe then he won’t end up with a bloody fucking nose!”

“That was a cheap shot, dickwad!”

For the love of the Six, shut up Luche! “He’s . . . he’s jus’ drunk. ‘S a party. Shit happens. Le’s jus’ go back to havin’ fun, ok?”

Gladio hadn’t registered it at first, but the guy shoved Gladio with two hands to his chest. Again and again, until Gladio lost his footing, falling a step or two backward before catching himself. Well, fuck . . . was this how it was going to go?

“What? You want in on this? Let’s go!”

He wouldn’t give in. No. Absolutely not. “I don’ wanna fight you. Jus’ back off and leave him alone, ok? I’m warning you.”

“Or what, huh? What are you gonna do?

It was a hollow warning. Really, what was he going to do? Gladio was tired and plastered. Drunk. So, so drunk. He didn’t want to start anything, least of all against some other drunken idiot. What good would it do? Yeah, Luche was belligerent, yelling some shit in the background while held back by Nyx (at his own goddamn party, of all things), but it wasn’t enough to give Gladio a reason to care. “Nothing,” he snarled, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m not gonna do a fucking thing.”

The guy took another step into Gladio’s personal space — shorter than Gladio by a head, but the intoxicated ego to give himself the illusion he could take Gladio on. How comical. He actually thought he stood a chance.

Gladio shook his head. “Not worth it.” With a smirk and a click of his tongue to his teeth, he turned to leave the guy behind.

“Chicken shit, walking away to cry to his mommy like the weak little bitch that he is.”

Gladio stopped dead in his tracks, his blood all of a sudden nearing its boiling point. Hearing someone bring up his mother out of nowhere did Gladio in, the final shred of his composure snapping in a drunken rage

He whirled around, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. “What the fuck did you say?”

The guy had to know it pissed Gladio off. “Can’t handle the truth? Running off to mommy because he’s a pussy bitch? Need her to hold you because you can’t fight like a real man ?”

Everything happened almost in an instant —  drawing all the power he could manage, Gladio landed a striking blow to the guy’s cheek. Ignoring the immediate pain in his knuckles, he went to punch him again but missed, stumbling forward from the inertia of his swing.

Where did he go?

Just as Gladio began to regain his bearings, he was tackled to the ground from behind by the rival student, head slamming the tile with an audible thud as he hit the ground. Even when Gladio managed to somehow roll onto his back, a fist came down and sounded a sickening crunch against his face right under his right eye. Again. Again. Again. Blood gushed from an apparent busted lip, the metallic tang all he could taste. His jaw hurt. His eye hurt. His lip hurt. His whole goddamn face hurt.

Enough was enough. He needed to get out. Gladio used his legs to buck up and knock the guy off of him, free of his attack. Fine; if he wanted a fight, he’d get it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Just before he could scramble to his feet, half delirious, someone was screaming.

Another fight? Maybe they were begging them to stop? Oh, was someone getting sick in the corner somewhere?

No. None of that.

It was only when the house was bathed in cherry and blue emergency lights, a stampede of people rushed around him, and he registered what exactly the person screamed that Gladio realized what the fuck was going on.

Cops! Run!

Gladio knew he should’ve bolted like his life depended on it, but he couldn’t. His limbs, every single one, felt like they weighed several tons. His eyesight was completely and totally shot from both the alcohol and the impending black eye. Getting out of there was going to be impossible.

Nyx, fortunately, hadn’t left him to fend for himself like everyone else had. Gladio was dead weight, but Nyx was obviously trying. He pulled and tugged until Gladio finally stumbled to his feet. “Shiva’s tits, Amicitia! Get the fuck up !” Nyx yanked Gladio up and dragged him through the house, shoving him to a side back door. They were almost out of there but a flashlight blinded the both of them the second they opened the door. “Neither of you are going anywhere . Hands up where I can see them.”

There was no point in resisting. Exchanging sideways glances — well, Gladio tried to shoot him a look, but his eye hurt too damn much and that fucking flashlight was aimed right at his face —  Gladio and Nyx raised their hands and gave in to the officer as he corralled them to a line of waiting cop cars.

At least the cops were nice enough to get Gladio a Ziploc bag of ice for his swollen, black eye.

He sat in the dull, gray cell, waiting for his punishment. Community service? Maybe more hours in jail? Would this go on his record at school? Would he be allowed to graduate?

By the Grace of the gods, all his questions were answered the minute the officer on duty walked by, keys jingling as the cell door was opened. “Alright, your time here is up. You’re free to go.”

“Huh?”

His father appeared beside the officer, dark circles under his eyes and a simmering rage that threatened to explode any minute now.

Fucking shit.

“Heyyyy . . . dad . . .” Gladio said, drawing out his words sheepishly with the ice still pressed to his face. “I can . . . uh . . . I can expla —”

“I appreciate the phone call, Orson,” Clarus thanked, cutting Gladio off before any more words were said. Gladio winced at that.

The officer nodded, then turned to wink at Gladio like he’d done him some kind of fucking favor. “Always, Clarus. Let’s just keep him out of trouble in the future, alright? Not sure he’ll get so lucky next time.”

Gladio was slow to stand, head throbbing like his heart had taken up residence right inside his skull. He didn’t want to think about anyone else getting stuck in here because their name wasn’t as well know in the city like his was. Actually, he didn’t want to think at all. The whole process of piecing shit together, putting the smallest amount of effort into introspection and contemplating everything that happened was enough to make his world spin.

He’d be a fool to assume that his father would be happy to see him, but the glowering look he received was enough to make him shrink back into the cell he’d been contained in for the last few hours. Clarus has been upset before — downright pissed — but this was on a whole new level. Getting yelled at in the middle of the precinct would’ve been a much preferable option to what he knew he was in store for. “Go to the car,” Clarus hissed. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

Yeah, that was about right.

Trudging through the halls and out the door to the waiting vehicle, Gladio sunk into the passenger seat and slammed the door with the force of Titan’s fury, resting his head against the cool pane of window glass. Fuck, that felt amazing against his throbbing headache. If he didn’t have access to aspirin or a million potions, this would have to do.

Someone like Ignis would know what to do in this situation.

Shit.

Shit.

A tsunami of memories came flooding back, blurry and muddled until just now; joking with his friends, Nyx, the drinking games he’d played all night, and the text messages.

Oh , the text messages. The very ones that all but declared how much Gladio cared for Ignis.

From his pocket, Gladio pulled out his phone and tapped it awake. A barrage of texts poured in from the time he and Nyx had been taken away until now.

Crowe wanting to know where he was.

Nyx apologizing about a half hour ago and asking for a text when he was out.

Nothing from Luche — go figure, even after jumping in to save his sorry ass.

Then, buried under all those messages, Gladio saw a few unread texts that came in from Ignis that he’d missed.

Ignis (2:04 a.m.) - Gladio? Are you still there?

 

Ignis (2:06 a.m.) - I hope you’re ok.

 

Ignis (2:09 a.m.) - I’m going to try and get some sleep. Call me if you need anything at all.

 

Ignis (2:11 a.m.) - I miss you.

 

Ignis (2:13 a.m.) - Goodnight.

Somewhat sober (complete and total sobriety would come much later), Gladio had time to reflect on everything.

As much as he wanted to deny that he felt anything toward Ignis, he knew that just wasn’t true. Admitting this was a long time coming, the party and drinking and effervescence the perfect catalyst to igniting the fuse that was his feelings for him.

His thumb danced over the keyboard, beginning a new text to Ignis.

Gladio (7:09 a.m.) - Can we talk about last night?

Before he could send it, the driver’s side door opened up and distracted Gladio from pressing the ‘Send’ button. Clarus sat down, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white while staring straight ahead. The sky was turning a beautiful hue of pinks and purples, the sun coming up to begin a brand new day.

After he seemed to calm down, judging by the way his grip slackened, Clarus started the car and began to drive home in total silence. He didn’t turn the radio on. He didn’t speak a single word or launch into some tirade. Nothing. Not a single, fucking thing.

“Dad . . . I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Please, say something.”

It was the only time that entire car ride home Clarus’ voice was heard. “I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”

Gladio inched down in his seat as much as his 6’6” frame would let him in his father’s car, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Hearing that hurt more than any black eye or busted lip ever would.

Exhausted and defeated, the text to Ignis went unsent.

Chapter Text

Gladio (8:57 a.m.) - hey

 

Gladio (8:58 a.m.) - can we just work on our shit at school this week?

 

Gladio (8:58 a.m.) - prob not a great idea to work at my house this week.

 

Ignis (8:59 a.m.) - Of course. Is everything alright?

 

Gladio (9:01 a.m.) - not sure. just dont feel like being home.

 

Ignis (9:02 a.m.) - Ok, I’ll just meet you at our spot, if that’s fine with you?

 

Gladio (9:02 a.m.) - sounds good. see you then.

 

Ignis (9:04 a.m.) - See you then.

Gladio didn’t have much to say to anyone who stopped him in class or in the halls, especially when all they cared about was the gossip about what went down Saturday night. Mind your fucking business, he thought, but outwardly he brushed it off with a forced smile — a forced smile that threatened to re-split his busted lip.

The only person’s opinion that mattered right now was Ignis’. It was all Gladio could think about until it was time to meet up. What would he say? How would he react? Hell, they hadn’t said much of anything since the late-night text messages exchanged at Nyx’s party.  Something about the way things were left unsaid — the open-ended hope and tentative anticipation — brought on a certain level of anxiety that Gladio wasn’t used to. Things between them had always been light. Airy. Different.

But this was a whole new level of different .

Gladio skirted around tables in the Hall, face down and shoulders up at his ears. People talked and pointed, oblivious to how loud they truly were. Gods , could this school and everyone in it be any less predictable? One shitty night and they all pounced on it, ready to spread what they’d heard like wildfire.

Taking a deep breath, Gladio rounded the corner of the bookshelves, not the least bit surprised to find Ignis already hard at work, buried beneath dozens of books and stacks of papers. He cleared his throat, unable — or maybe just unwilling — to voice Ignis’ name in that same chipper way he always did.

That tiny noise did the trick, though. Startled from his reverie, Ignis’ face lit up at the sight of Gladio standing there, but quickly crumpled into one of absolute horror. Great, yet another reminder of what Gladio had tried to forget all damn day.

With the strap of his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, Gladio stared vacantly at a spot on the edge of the table as Ignis rose to his feet, aghast. “Oh my word,” he whispered as he approached, almost too slow for Gladio’s liking. “What on Eos happened that night? You look . . .” Trembling fingers reached up and attempted to brush against the patchwork of purple and blue around his eye and the swollen gash on his lip, but Gladio evaded him by tipping his head back, snarling.

“Can we just get to our project? I don’t really want to talk about it,” he growled, skirting around Ignis to the empty chair behind him. It wasn’t that he was mad or frustrated with Ignis, though his tone seemed to indicate such; it was all still so fresh in his mind — a sensitive subject he wasn’t ready to touch on just yet. Even as he dumped his bag from his shoulder to the floor, sinking into his chair at the same time, he knew Ignis was boring holes into his back with his stare. Watching. Waiting for some explanation.

What, though? What was Gladio supposed to say? That he drank way too much to keep his demons at bay? That he stuck up for a so-called friend and subsequently had his face bashed in for it? Maybe Ignis would love to hear about how he spent a night in jail and had to ride home in the worst silence of his life, picked up at the asscrack of dawn by a father with whom he already had a strained relationship with?

Or, maybe Ignis was hoping that Gladio would say that, yes, he did miss him and those texts absolutely meant something to him.

It didn’t matter; Gladio wasn’t in the mood to talk and Ignis was obviously well aware of that as he sighed his acceptance, taking the steps back to the vacant seat he’d occupied before Gladio showed up. Try as he might, Gladio felt on edge as Ignis pretended like he was working on his schoolwork, eyes flicking up more times than Gladio could count.

Goddamn, it was grating on his nerves. “You know, you’re not very good at pretending like you’re not watching me,” Gladio chided, face angled down onto his own work.

Flabbergasted, Ignis responded with, “I wasn’t. I was merely admiring the greenery of the field outside.”

“Mmmhmm. The window’s that way —” Gladio pointed to his right. “ — and you keep looking this way,” he finished with a finger pointed at his injuries.

Ok, so yes, maybe Gladio was in more of a bad mood than he originally anticipated he’d be in, but being reduced to a spectacle all day wore him down in the worst way. Ignis apologized quickly and quietly, returning to his papers while Gladio flipped a page in his calculus textbook and wrote more notes.

They worked in silence, save for the occasional scribbling of pen to paper. Soon enough, Gladio’s foul mood faded, the tension easing up and allowing for the both of them to converse quietly back and forth. The weird thing Gladio noticed was the more he relaxed around Ignis today, the more restless and stiff Ignis became. It was how he worried his lower lip, tugged on his ear, and how he ran a hand through his hair that gave it away — small tells to anyone else, but massive dead giveaways to Gladio, that he was antsy about something .

“Gladiolus,” Ignis whispered, turning the page of his notebook to a clean sheet. Gladio looked up from his work, face neutral like he hadn’t just studied Ignis for the last however long without him knowing. “Might I ask of your plans this evening?”

“I . . .I don’t know.” Gladio licked his lip and hissed, forgetting about the cut that marred the skin. “Pick Iris up here in a bit, get her settled in, and probably work on school stuff. Dunno, just the usual.”

Ignis looked like he was hesitating, unsure of how to bring up what he was trying to ask. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened, then closed again. The pen he’d been using was now the victim of his fidgeting, a blur as he waved it between his pointer and middle finger, sometimes accidentally hitting the surface of the table. Whatever it was that he wanted to say, it obviously stressed him to the point of almost not saying anything at all..

“If you’re . . . I would . . . Would you . . .” Ignis took a deep breath and tried again, this time with more confidence behind his voice. “I’d love for you to come to my track meet tonight. It’s at The Academy of Holy Astrals across town, but it would mean a lot to see you there.” He covered his mouth with one hand and mumbled the rest of his words in one garbled sentence. “ We could get dinner too if you’re able to but only if you want to .”

Of all the things he expected Ignis to ask, this was the lowest on the list. Gladio nearly dropped his own pen at Ignis’ proposition. All coherent thought went right out the window, his mind a muddled mess. “I’m sorry . . . say that again?” Gladio just wanted to make sure he heard correctly because up until this point, save for Giving Day, they’d really only worked on schoolwork together outside of school hours. They hadn’t actually ‘hung out’.

And here Ignis was, asking him to watch him at his track meet and get something to eat after.

Ignis’ face burned, flushed red at the prospect of repeating himself. Gladio almost wanted to say how cute he looked all flustered like this, but thought better of it and kept the comment to himself. “I . . . well . . . once you’re free this evening, would you like to come to my track meet and grab dinner afterward?”

Those words, that question, turned Gladio’s day around in a matter of seconds. His stomach fluttered and his nerves hummed with excitement. Ignis wanted him at his track meet. Him . Not only that, but he was asking him out to dinner afterward. Did Ignis know how absolutely giddy this made Gladio feel? What it did to him? Six, did this mean what Gladio hoped it meant?

Despite the screaming in his head, Gladio acted indifferent, afraid that giving off any other vibe would somehow scare Ignis away. Stay calm. Don’t freak out. Just be cool. He shrugged and waved a hand. “Sure. Let me take care of Iris and I can head over after that?”

Ignis’ excitement was contagious. “Excellent! I understand that Iris comes first, so whenever you arrive will be fine. You could even bring your work if you wish. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be happy just to see you there.”

I’ll be happy just to see you there.

“Yeah, definitely.” The words echoed in Gladio’s mind, playing like a joyous song on repeat. Even though it hurt to do so, knowing full well it meant giving Ignis a clear view of his injuries, Gladio grinned and met Ignis’ eyes for the first time that day. “Can’t wait.”

Iris picked up from her lessons and now working on homework in her room? Check.

Jared in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the family? Check.

All schoolwork for tomorrow complete and packed in his school bag (save for what he was bringing to the meet tonight)? Check and check.

Dressed in his Kingsglaive hoodie and a baseball cap on his head, Gladio gave himself one more once-over in the mirror (trying his damndest to ignore the black eye and busted lip) before grabbing his keys and wallet from his desk and heading downstairs. Gladio had already told Jared he wouldn’t be home until much later, to which he received a warm smile and an understanding nod in response. “Please be careful, Master Gladio. I’ll have dinner for you in the fridge for when you get home.”

Some things could remain a secret — dinner being one of them.

As Gladio walked down the hall to the front door, he passed his father’s office, unaware he was home today, sitting with a slew of papers on his desk. “Young man,” Clarus called out as Gladio passed the office. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The grave tone stopped Gladio dead in his tracks. He took a few steps back until he was right in the doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of the hoodie. It was only when his father beckoned him in with one swift movement of his hand that he walked inside. There wasn’t a hint of whiskey on his desk — a good sign, maybe. “I . . . uh . . . a friend of mine wanted me to watch him at his track meet. It’s . . . uh . . . it’s at the rival school across town, so —”

“Absolutely not,” Clarus interrupted, eyes trained back on his paper like Gladio hadn’t even entered the room to begin with.

Gladio flinched, not expecting that as a response. “Uh . . . why not?” he dared to ask.

Clarus tutted his disapproval. “You expect me to let you out of this house after the stunt you pulled over the weekend? After I had to pick you up from jail ? No, you will remain inside this house until I say so.”

Gladio knew he had fucked up, but the lack of words exchanged with his father since that morning had led him to believe that things were ok. Out of sight, out of mind. They hadn’t really crossed paths and Gladio took that to mean his father wasn’t as upset as he’d been. Surely Clarus took the time to cool off, ready to forgive and forget and move on. In fact, things really hadn’t been so different than they were before the party. That’s why it was such a shock to stand in front of Clarus like a small child once more, waiting for a punishment he had no idea was coming.

“I . . . I don’t get it,” Gladio sputtered, hands curling into fists as he spoke. “It’s a school function. It’s not like I’m getting wasted or anything.”

Clarus slammed his papers down on his desk, snapping his eyes up to meet Gladio’s at the same time. “You don’t ‘ get it’?” He rose from his chair and rounded the corner of the desk to stand up against Gladio. “You snuck out of the house. You attended a raucous house party and drank until you could barely stand. Do you think I missed the smell of cigarettes on your clothing? What on Eos did you think I’d say to any request of yours to go out, regardless of it being a school function or not?”

Gladio stood up, shoulders back and chin up. “I just thought —”

Clarus continued to scold Gladio, cutting him off mid-sentence. “What did you think , my son? Hm? You thought that I’d let you get away with your little antics again like you’ve been able to in the past? No, I’ve never been so disappointed with you as I have these last several months. You and your friends gallivanting around Insomnia like you own the damn city. Don’t think for one second that I or others of higher esteem haven’t caught wind of what you’ve all been up to. The drugs? The alcohol? The sex?”

He shook his head and frowned, his brows scrunching together before turning away to the hutch in the corner of the study — the very hutch where he housed his high-priced liquor. “The Citadel Gala is coming up, one of the most important high-society events the Royal Family hosts every year. I’ve been touting you as a well-behaved man, one I’ve almost been proud enough to have in attendance, but your actions these last few months have proved otherwise. You’re supposed to attend this event as my son, the next in line to the Amicitia lineage, but how can I expect you to represent the family name if you’re acting like a delinquent? A fool?”

Oh, right. The Citadel Gala. Gladio vaguely registered this event in the back of his mind, but it was everything else following that that Gladio focused on. A delinquent? No, he was far from it. “I - I messed up, yeah . . . but I’m not a bad kid —”

Clarus wasn’t having it. “You’re not the son your mother and I raised. She would’ve expected better of you; not this hooligan of a teenager who thinks all he touches turns to gold.”

It was one thing to get a guilt trip from his father, but to have his mother brought into this? Hearing her dragged into this discussion all for the sake of disciplining Gladio unnerved him. Shook him to his very core. “What?” he squeaked out, his voice a touch higher. “I’ve never thought that —”

Clarus sighed a long and sorrowful breath, pulling the canter and a glass out with one hand. “All she would’ve wanted would be to see her son stay out of trouble and you can’t even manage that. For all I’ve done for you since her passing, this is how —”

All he’s done for me? All he’s done for me??

That’s when Gladio stopped listening. Clarus had every right to be angry — Gladio truly understood that. This, however? This was more than him being upset at Gladio for getting out of control. This was all the pent-up grief and their splintered relationship culminating into one catastrophic argument — it was just the weekend that ignited it and brought them to this moment.

That didn’t make it fair.

And Gladio was over tiptoeing around to keep the peace.

He tried to stop himself before the words spewed from his mouth, but that was an epic fail. Just as fed up as Clarus was, so was Gladio. “You haven’t done shit for me!”

Gladio half-thought that the words came from someone else with how abrasive and angry they were, deep and full of emotion he’d stuffed down for years.. However, the way his father twisted his head, like some sort of owl searching for its prey, indicated otherwise. The words most definitely came straight from Gladio’s mouth. “Excuse me?”

Gladio had never stood up to his father, and now here he was fighting back. “How can you say that you’ve done anything for me lately? You haven’t been around for the last few years!” Dammit, his mouth had gone dry, and now the way Clarus stared him down, hardly a drop poured in his glass from the canter, made Gladio nearly regret opening his mouth at all. He gritted his teeth and waited for his father’s reaction, like two chess players anticipating their next moves.

“I’ve done nothing for you? I’ve done nothing for you ?” Clarus placed the glass and canter on the surface of the hutch, obviously offended. He stalked back toward Gladio with careful and intimidating steps. “I’ve kept a roof over your head, son. I’ve paid more money than you could imagine for that school you attend, ensuring you have a bright future once you graduate — if you graduate. I’ve turned a blind eye several times to you sneaking out, convincing myself that that is what teenagers do. So long as you stayed out of trouble, I had no qualms with you being out late.

“But then, to get that phone call from the police that you’d been detained and placed in a holding cell until I could retrieve you? Do you have any idea how that looks on you? On me ? Do you have any idea the strings I had to pull? No, no more. From here on out, if you think I will tolerate this any longer, you are wrong. This is my home and as long as you are under my roof , you will do as I say , is that clear ?”

He tried to fight it, the snicker that bubbled from deep within his chest, but he couldn’t. This read like a bad joke, one that Gladio ironically found fucking hilarious. “And where the fuck have you been the last few years, hm? You think I respect a damn thing you ask of me anymore? How can I, when I’m the one holding this fucking family together?” The heat of anger flushed Gladio’s face, growing hotter and hotter with every passing second that he stood in front of his father.

Clarus was either too shocked at Gladio’s outburst or he genuinely overlooked the obscenities hurled his way. Instead, he honed in on the implication of Gladio’s words. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think you can read between the lines, Dad .”

Gladio knew he’d kicked his father right where it hurt, the anger subsiding to something more distressing. Everything they’d bottled up between each other was pouring out, a dam they’d neglected to repair, figuring time would be a great bandage to hold it together. It wasn’t.

“Gladiolus . . . if you have something you’d like to say to my face, do so now.”

Gladio debated his best course of action. He weighed his options carefully, but ultimately his heart won out. “Fine. You want to know what’s really been on my mind?” Probably not, Gladio figured his father thought, but here went nothing. “I see the way you look at me. I see the way you blame me for all the shit you’re going through. ‘Why not him? Why her?’ you think. How come I survived and she didn’t, right? Trust me, I think it too. I think about it every damn day. Every fucking minute .”

Clarus opened his mouth to argue, but Gladio wouldn’t let him. “You wouldn’t know it because you’re always at the Citadel or locked in this stupid office, but I try my fucking hardest every fucking day to please you. To keep Iris happy and taken care of. To work my ass off in school so I can graduate number one against some of the smartest students Insomnia’s ever known. I do everything I can to make up for all of this —” Gladio waved his hands, motioning to the abstract thing he was talking about. “ — and it’s not enough. It’s never enough . It’s gotten to a point now where I feel like a fucking stranger in this house because you’re permanently grieving her death.”

“Gladio . . .” Clarus implored, tired and drained.

“No! You don’t get to tell me how awful I am and then say my name like I’m unreasonable! She wasn’t the only one in that car! I was in that fucking car with her and you haven’t given a damn about me since that day.”

Then, through gritted teeth and a shuddering breath, Gladio admitted out loud the one thing he’d thought about over and over since that dreadful day. The one thing he couldn’t let go of. “I should’ve been the one to die in that accident . . . would’ve made things a hell of a lot easier on all of us.”

Clarus was stunned into silence, perhaps weighing his best course of action before executing it. Would he yell again? Would he pull Gladio in for a hug (even if he didn’t want it, Gladio knew he sure as hell could use it)? No, Clarus did none of that. He stood, blinking as he steeled his jaw, eyes cutting through Gladio the longer they stared each other down.

Gladio wasn’t sure if those were tears in Clarus’ eyes or the glaze of exhaustion, but he didn’t get an opportunity to scrutinize his face much longer. Clarus finally broke the still of their agitation.  “I think it’s best you go to your room, Gladiolus,” he whispered, lips barely moving as he spoke. “You’ve said enough for today.”

That’s it? That’s it ? Glado could hardly believe it. He expected a fight or some sort of pushback, but there was nothing. Not a single fucking thing. The words were so damn quiet, but they rang loud in Gladio’s heart.

With a smirk to cover the hurt, Gladio leaned in. “With pleasure,” he bit back, all snark and disgust. They held each other’s gaze — Gladio waiting for his father to please tell him to stay so they could openly talk about things, but nothing came — before Gladio stormed out of the office and down the hall, up the stairs to his room. He registered Iris’ eyes following him from her bedroom, peeking out from the doorway with worry, but he ignored it as he stepped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Somewhere on one of the walls in the hallway, a frame fell from the force and crashed to the ground.

Gladio snarled.

He seethed.

He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair to give himself something to do.

Rage and confusion consumed him. They were him. At least physical pain could be easily mended with some medicine and a band-aid or two. Suffering internally, emotionally, wouldn’t go away by wishing it so.

And now Gladio was paying that price.

He broke, roaring his anger into existence, thunderous and unrelenting; so loud, his throat and lungs strained from the effort. And then, when he ran out of breath, he took an even deeper one and screamed again, this time toward the door and his father and to anyone who would listen.

He screamed for his past life. He screamed for his sister who would grow up without a mother, a mother he missed with every ounce of his being every damn day. He screamed for his father who’d lost himself in an endless grief, drifting apart from his own children. And, finally, he screamed for himself, a clawing agony he’d separated himself from for years — a devastation he’d sworn never to feel so that he could continue living.

Everything came rushing out, emotions and thoughts he thought he’d locked away long ago. A picture of his family, framed and angled on the back corner of his desk, caught his eye, prompting him to snatch it up and hurl it at the wall where the glass shattered and glittered right there on the floor. So intense and acute was his anger that he barely felt the cool fabric of his pillow as he smothered his face in it to stifle his howling.

Things didn’t seem real, and yet . . . they did. They hurt. They bled. They were an agony unlike anything Gladio had ever felt before. Flopping onto his back, breathing in and out through his nose to catch his breath, he found his mind racing with no signs of slowing down. He didn’t like this, feeling everything . If he had to stay locked away in this Astrals-forsaken house, he’d need to numb himself to make it through the night.

Like always.

7:00. Ignis was probably competing right now . . . and, fucking great , Gladio wasn’t there to cheer him on. Had he let Ignis down? Would Ignis be looking up into the stands for him? How the fuck would he explain what happened? Did he even owe Ignis an explanation at all? What about dinner?

Enough was enough. Gladio couldn’t bear this. All this thinking and the wrath he felt needed to stop. He’d do anything to temper the emotions. Kicking his legs over the side of his bed, he stood up and walked over to his closet, a bottle or two of liquor waiting for him high on the closet shelf. They were buried behind bundles of balled up sweaters, behind gym bags and old backpacks.

Fuck pouring the amber liquid in a glass — a night like this didn’t call for that. Unscrewing the cap on the bottle, Gladio stalked over to his window and lifted on the handle, ducking outside onto the sloped roof just outside his sill. The sun had almost finished setting, giving way to a few stars that poked their way through the violet and orange hue of the sky. Nice, a beautiful scene to an otherwise disastrous evening.

He sat down, back against the side of the house, and chugged as much as he could stand from the bottle, throat burning as the alcohol went down.

I’m a delinquent.

I’m a fool.

I’m a disappointment.

I can’t even deal with my own shit without getting drunk over it.

As he waited for the buzz to kick in, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and typed out his message. Every word on the screen made the sadness in his heart grow — a heavy weight of despondency and venomous acrimony.

Gladio (7:07 p.m.) - hey

Gladio (7:09 p.m.) - im sorry I can’t come. stuff came up.

Gladio (7:10 p.m.) - good luck tonight. you’re gonna do amazing

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that Gladio’d dozed off, but the alcohol damn sure did the trick of making the next couple of hours blur by. He’d gone from sitting against the side of the house on the rooftop to laying down, one hand under his head for comfort while the other hand flicked and tapped at the screen of his phone. Eventually, he reached the bottom of the bottle he’d brought outside with him. Then, and only then, did he drag himself inside for the other bottle, coming right back outside to his spot to drink more.

He almost missed his phone buzzing in his pocket. Who could be texting him at this hour? Luche maybe, but their conversations were few and far between lately. He definitely wasn’t expecting it to be Ignis, the very name lighting up his screen.

Ignis (9:42 p.m.) - Gladio?

 

Ignis (9:42 p.m.) - I hope everything’s alright.

 

Ignis (9:42 p.m.) - I know it’s late, but may I stop by?

Gladio’s heart leapt as he read the text messages. He wanted to accept. Every single part of his being begged and pleaded with himself to say yes, but the other, more rational side of him didn’t want Ignis to see him like this — on a bender after an explosive, heated argument with his father.

He flipped his phone over screen-side down on his chest, willing himself to ignore Ignis until tomorrow. Then, another notification came through, making the phone jump to life again. Groaning, Gladio flicked his thumb across the screen and opened to the third text Ignis sent.

Ignis (9:45 p.m.) - Before you decline, I should probably tell you I’m outside a few feet down the road.

Well, fuck . Gladio forgot that whenever Ignis had his mind set on something, he definitely followed through. He sat up, holding his head as the world spun for a fraction of a second. When his world righted itself, he typed out:

Gladio (9:46 p.m.) - sure just come around the back. be quiet so no one hears.

Huh. Impressive. Not even a typo. Gladio had to pat himself on the back for that one.

But . . . shit . He fucking agreed to let Ignis inside.

Right now.

Literally right now .

Shit.

Gladio scrambled to his feet, making sure his bottle was safe against the wall before stumbling inside his window and down the hall, haunted by the eerie silence of the house at this time of night. Iris had probably gone to bed a half hour ago. Jared had left for the evening. Who even knew where the fuck his father was — that was, until Gladio noticed the sliver of light coming from under the office door.

Gladio stood there staring at the glow, jaded by the fact that one stupid door separated him and his father. All he needed to do was reach out and turn the doorknob. How much worse could things get? Just open the door and —

The phone vibrated in Gladio’s hand, another text from Ignis alerting Gladio he was outside. Right now, any reconciliation with his father would have to wait. Gladio’s shoulders sagged, but he continued through the house, across the kitchen to the back door where the familiar silhouette of Ignis stood in the frosted window, arms crossed and head down.

Any prior feelings of anger and doubt vanished the second Gladio opened the door. He hovered in the doorway, debating whether to lean against the doorframe with his entire body or just his hand. After a few failed attempts, Gladio settled on standing there, a sloppy smile on his lips. “You’re here.”

Not exactly his best, but Ignis didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the gleam in his eye gave Gladio the distinct impression he was charmed by the interaction. “Yes, I’m here,” Ignis responded in kind, smirking. He dropped his arms to his side, pausing awkwardly like he was figuring out what to say next. Maybe why he was there? That would’ve been the best place to start, but instead, Ignis said, “I placed first tonight.”

“Proud of you, but I knew you would,” Gladio said, worried that maybe his words were slurring together. No, he was just self-conscious — he hoped. Ignis didn’t give any indication he was suspicious. “I wanted to be there. I was heading out and everything, I promise  . . . but . . . shit with my dad . . .”

Fuck, even talking about it was more than Gladio could manage. The alcohol probably didn’t help much, either. Thank gods for Ignis being able to read his damn mind, holding a hand up to stop him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know you well enough by now to understand you have your reasons. I’m not upset by any means, though I do regret we couldn’t go out for dinner as we planned.”

That got a laugh out of Gladio, but it quickly dissolved into another long and awkward pause, both of them shifting their weights from one foot to the other, crossing and uncrossing arms, waiting for the other to say something. Well, they could stand out here all night, or they could move up to Gladio’s room. He moved aside, jabbing a thumb toward the dark house behind him. “You . . . uh . . . you wanna come inside? It’s better than bullshittin’ out here.”

Ignis smiled. “I’d like that.”

A thought occurred to Gladio before he stepped aside to let Ignis in. He grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Hey wait. Hold on. How did you even get here, anyway? I thought you didn’t have your parent’s car today.” It was only when Ignis shot him a sly expression, not willing to voice his secret, that Gladio understood what it was he was getting at. “You took a ride-share here? Fucking shit , how expensive was that across town? What if I had been asleep? How did you know if you’d even be allowed in?”

There was something about Ignis’ confidence that always sparked Gladio’s interest. “I’d hoped,” he said, skirting around and leaving behind a pleasantly surprised Gladio in his wake.

They tiptoed through the manor, Ignis unaware of the heartache it caused Gladio to walk by his father’s office again, light still on — and probably would remain on for the next several hours. Once upstairs, Gladio hunched through the opened window in his bedroom and took his place on the roof where he’d been most of the evening. The bottle, still up against the house, was within his reach.

Ignis also ducked out onto the roof, a little unsure where it was he was supposed to sit or what he should do. He’d come all the way out here to visit — the least Gladio could do was offer him some of what he was drinking. Having a buddy to drink with was more fun, anyway.  “Want some?”

Ignis sat down, settling on a spot close enough to Gladio but still a respectable distance away — an arm's length at most. “What is it?”

“Whiskey.”

“How’d you get it?”

The questions were annoying, but Gladio obliged. “You remember Nyx Ulric, right?” Ignis nodded and Gladio lifted the alcohol in the air like a prized possession. “He’s a really good friend of mine. There’s histo . . . we . . . not the point. Anyway, I asked for this and a few other bottles a while back, but forgot I had them.” Gladio shrugged, downing another good amount. The edges of his world frayed, the burn less intense the more he drank. Ignis eyed him carefully before he was offered the bottle again. “Yours if you want some.”

He was about ready to keep the alcohol for himself (the last thing he wanted was for Ignis to feel pressured into anything), but Ignis’ soft ‘alright’ stopped him from doing so. That was the point when Gladio relinquished his hold on the neck of the bottle, passing it off to Ignis’ waiting hand, and watching with mild amusement as he drank more than Gladio thought he would. Ignis hissed, sucking in through his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. “Bloody hell, that’s strong.”

“It does its job.”

Back and forth they went, neither one saying anything as the whiskey went between them, liquid line getting lower and lower down the bottle. Out here, the stars shone bright, not impeded by the light pollution they way they would be in the city itself. It gave both of them somewhere to look as they loosened up.

It was Ignis that said something first roughly twenty minutes later, head tipped back to the sky and a pink blush blossoming on his cheeks and neck — a mixture of the alcohol and something else Gladio couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Gladio’s confusion bled into his voice as he picked and peeled at the label on the bottle.

“Whatever has you down tonight. The reason why you chose to drink all alone on your rooftop.” Ignis took the proffered alcohol and drank liberally, gasping for air when he finished. “Or, we can stay quiet and enjoy each other’s company. The choice is yours.”

The only other person that had ever asked Gladio to talk about his thoughts and feelings was Nyx, and even then Gladio kept a lot hidden. No one cares, he’d reason. If people weren’t asking just to be nice, they were asking to get any and all information they could so they could use it against you further down the road. No one truly gave a damn about anyone else and their thoughts and feelings. Gladio learned that real fucking quick. “You don’t really want to know. You don’t mean that.”

Ignis seemed to be feeling good. He’d gone from barely tolerating the whiskey to downing it like it was water. Gladio had to admit, he was impressed. As Ignis handed the bottle back to Gladio, he smirked. “Try all you want to convince yourself that I don’t mean what I say, but I care about you, Gladio. I care enough to come out here and sit on a rooftop, hoping maybe you might find it in you to open up to me.”

What exactly did he want to know? Why? And where would Gladio even begin?

He sighed, picking relentlessly at a callous in his open palm. “Things are pretty bad between me and my dad.” The words sounded shaky, so Gladio took another sip of the liquor — some more liquid courage.

“I gathered as much,” Ignis said, cocking his head to look at Gladio. “So, tell me about it.”

“Fine . . . but you asked for it.” And tell him about it he did. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning. You didn’t really know me -know me before everything. Back then, things were good. Dad, mom, Iris, and me — one big happy family. Vacations around the world to places like Altissia and Lestallum, dinners every night after everyone got home, holidays together  . . . everything . I mean, we really were happy.”

Gladio continued to dig his nail into the rough skin of his callous, sometimes breaking to rub it with the pad of his thumb. “Then, Mom died and . . . I dunno. We fell apart. Dad stopped looking at me like I was the son he loved and started looking at me like I was the sole source of his pain.”

He motioned for the bottle, back with Ignis at that moment, and drank. “I’m old enough to know that grief makes everyone do some shitty stuff or react in certain ways, but I’d hoped the three of us could get through it all together so we could come out the other side alright. But, after that day, it was like I’d lost my dad, too. He just kinda . . . I dunno . . . became a shell of himself. I thought maybe giving it some time would help to fix everything, but doing that made everything worse. The longer we keep going like shit is ok, the more strained everything gets.”

Ignis drew his long legs up to his chest, hugging them at first but finding the position uncomfortable. He settled for resting his arms over his knees. “Not that you probably haven’t, because I’m sure you have, but could you try talking to him? Maybe he has no idea the burden this all has caused for you?” His words had a softness to them, slightly slurred and accent heavier than usual, but soothing.

“I did that — tried talking to him, I mean. It was one time, but still.” Gladio ran a hand through his hair, along his scalp to the base of his neck, and let his head hang. “It was maybe a few months after the accident. I was seriously struggling — nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat, random bouts of anger. I was seeing a therapist every other day to talk about my feelings —” His sarcasm and disdain in the last few words were noted by the higher pitch to his voice. “— but how many times can I sit there and relive seeing my mom fucking die in front of me and hearing how it’ll all be ok? I didn’t want to talk to a fucking shrink about it — I wanted to talk to my dad.”

Then, Gladio let out a sardonic laugh, cynicism overtaking his sadness. “I walked into his office and brought up that these sessions weren’t really helping. I think I even said something along the lines of how they were making me feel worse. I’ll never forget him looking me dead in the eyes, literally no emotion in them whatsoever, and saying that he couldn’t help me with my issues. He said he had way too much on his plate and I’d have to deal with this on my own, like it was a fucking math problem he didn’t know how to solve.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Yup. That’s all.” Gladio couldn’t chance looking at Ignis. If he did, the tears he’d been holding back would spill over. It was bad enough his voice was on the verge of cracking, throat clenched tight and aching. Instead, he swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, the pain of his black eye just a dull inconvenience, and continued.

“Dad got a phone call and took it outside, leaving me sitting there in front of his desk. I almost left, but I saw he’d left his liquor cabinet open. I felt so damn alone in that moment and I didn’t know how else to make things better, so I took my chance and snatched one of his whiskey bottles before he could catch me. I knew he wouldn’t miss it; he always stocked that thing full of liquor and never kept up with what he had."

Gladio paused, turning more introspective and analytical. “I don’t really even know why I did it. I really don’t. I think about it a lot, but I still couldn’t give you a reason. I don’t know if it was because I was pissed that he didn’t even try to help me, or if it was because I had seen how he numbed things with alcohol before, so why couldn’t I? All I remember is drinking as much as I could in as little time as possible, getting completely shitfaced alone in my room, and then throwing up it all up before passing out on the floor of my bathroom.” He gave Ignis a rueful smile and passed the whiskey to him, almost like that would make up for his melancholy. “It’s stupid, but I kinda liked not feeling anything for those hours. Still do. I don’t know how else to get through this without it.”

Ignis shook his head, wavering a bit as he brought the bottle to his lips. “It’s not stupid, Gladio,” he consoled. “You were hurting. You are hurting. Your method of dealing with your pain may not be the most conventional, but that doesn’t make it stupid.”

He never expected Ignis — straight-and-narrow, rule-follower, uptight Ignis — to disagree with the fact that he was out of line for turning to alcohol to cope. Maybe it was because Ignis himself was drunk right now and he really had no room to talk, but the sentiment was there all the same. “Yeah,” Gladio mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face, “But it definitely doesn’t help in the long run. I just . . . I hate feeling like I’m drowning. I always feel like I’m drowning and screaming for help and there’s no one around to save me. Even in the middle of a crowded room, I still feel so goddamn alone.

“And, yeah, I know I’m a mess, but I still wish someone would try . My own fucking father doesn’t even try anymore. He just looks at me and frowns, thinking that all I do is drink and fight and fuck my way through the entire population of Insomnia. He has no fucking idea that I’ve never even —”

Gladio swallowed the last of his words, eyes wide. He hadn’t realized how cathartic it was to get everything off his chest — too cathartic. His confessions and divulgence of his inner thoughts derailed into a territory he’d never ventured into with almost anyone .

Ignis eyed Gladio with an inquisitive glint. “You what ?”

“Nothing,” he covered up, almost too quickly.

That didn’t deter Ignis. If anything, it made him even more curious. “No, go on. You’ve never even . . . what ?”

Gladio went on the defensive, heart pounding. Lying on the spot was out of the question, his brain unable to think that fast right now. “Fucking Ramah, Ignis. You want me to spell it out or something?” When Ignis responded with only a blinking stare, Gladio knew he’d definitely need to spell it out. Drunk Ignis wasn’t as quick on the uptake as his sober counterpart. “I’ve never . . . actually done it .” His mouth formed a deep, straight line as he wrung his hands. “ You know ? It ?”

Ignis squinted, piecing together what it was Gladio was implying. Fucking shit Ignis, get there faster or so help me Astrals.

Then, he straightened up, stunned, understanding exactly what Gladio was getting at.  “You? Gladiolus . . . are you . . . you’ve honestly never had . . . intercourse ?”

Gladio knew Ignis wasn’t trying to mock him, but it sure felt like it. “For fuck’s sake, Ignis . . . you really know how to make a guy feel low about himself,” Gladio glowered, snatching the bottle back to drink away his embarrassment, on top of the heavy discussion from moments before. “No, I’ve never had sex , alright?”

“But . . . all those times . . . what everyone says . . .”

“It’s not true. None of it’s true. I let everyone think what they wanted to think and I never corrected them.” He clicked his nails to the glass, drumming out an ill-timed beat. “Honestly, Nyx is the only person I’ve ever done much of anything with, but we never actually fucked. He was nice about it and all, but I . . . I just . . .” He snorted his shame. “I never felt like I was ready for that. I wanted my first time to be with someone I . . . uh . . . I dunno. Whatever.”

Ignis hiccupped and covered his mouth, but then said, “I had no idea. I always assumed you were experienced in that department.”

Gladio shot him a look, almost offended. “Well, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell anyone it wasn’t true.”

“Why not? It’s not like it’s anything to be ashamed of,” Ignis said. “You’re placing a lot of pressure on yourself for something you seem to believe strongly in, despite other’s opinions on the matter.”

“Yeah, well . . . I’d rather people believe that I wasn’t a virgin than to speak up and end up the laughingstock of our school. I’d lost a lot already . . . I didn’t want to lose my friends, too.”

“Oh, please, Gladio. Your friends are a bunch of assholes and you deserve better than the hell they put you through,” Ignis stated firmly before realizing what it was he’d said. Seeing Ignis flustered as he stammered an apology was a sight Gladio would not soon forget. “Forgive me. I think . . . I’m afraid I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Yeah, I’d say you have, but you’re right . . . about my friends, I mean,” Gladio agreed, finishing off the bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I shouldn’t care what they think of me or what will happen if I go against what they say, but it’s hard. I can’t stand most of them, but walking away now isn’t really an option. As fucked as it sounds, they’re really all I have.”

Somewhere between admitting that Ignis was right and conceding to his friends’ power over him, Ignis had managed to inch the short distance to Gladio’s side, all without him noticing. They went from a considerable gap apart to almost no space between them.

For all the time that Gladio knew Ignis — from classmates to enemies to friends — he’d never pegged him as someone to express his emotions physically, if at all. That’s why, when Gladio felt himself pulled against Ignis, his arms going up and around Gladio’s shoulders, drawing him into a hug, it shocked him more than anything.

Ignis’ thumb rubbed up and down the muscle of Gladio’s shoulder and, finally, Gladio found himself lowering his head to rest on Ignis’ shoulder. It was nice. Safe. It was everything Gladio didn’t know he needed.

His shirt smelled like the detergent he used, probably having just washed the shirt the night before. His fingers squeezed every so often, a reminder he was there. His voice, though, brought Gladio back home. “You know they’re not all you have. You’ve always had me.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

Even without looking at him, Gladio could imagine Ignis closing his eyes and giving him a wry smile. “That may be . . . but it doesn’t change the authenticity of my words.” He shrugged Gladio’s head up to look at him. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

As much as Gladio wanted to smile, he found he was too exhausted for that. Instead, he nodded and, once again, allowed himself to be guided back into Ignis’ embrace. They eventually moved from sitting to laying down, Gladio’s head resting on Ignis’ chest and Ignis’ arm still draped protectively over Gladio.

They remained that way for a long while, both losing all track of time. It was only when Gladio’s eyelids fluttered, heavy as he fought sleep, that he knew they should probably head inside to bed. He lifted his head and looked up at Ignis, realizing now that the lax grip and the quiet snores meant he’d drifted off to sleep some time ago.

“Iggy . . . hey, wake up. We should go to bed.”

Ignis barely moved or made a sound, the alcohol doing a fabulous job of keeping him sedated. As much as Gladio wanted to stay out here under the cloudless night sky, wishing he didn’t have to disturb Ignis’ peace, he knew they needed to head inside. Sleeping on a roof wouldn’t exactly be great for their backs or necks.

He tried again to rouse him. “C’mon Iggy . . . let’s head inside.”

“Mmmmm . . .” He mumbled, swatting at Gladio but missing him altogether.

“We’re just going to bed. We can’t stay out here, ok?”

“‘M comfy.”

Fucking liar.

Reasoning and sweet talking him wouldn’t work. At this rate, they’d be outside all night. Gladio slowly eased himself up into a sitting position, carefully moving Ignis so he could help him up. Gladio pulled Ignis’ arm over his shoulder, looping his own arm around Ignis’ waist and dragged the both of them through the window and to the bed.

“Fuck Iggy, you could help me a little bit ,” Gladio groaned, holding him up with one arm and peeling the covers back with the other, awkwardly maneuvering him into bed afterward. He removed Ignis’ shoes, lined them up against the wall, and shuffled to the bathroom for aspirin and a glass of water (making sure to get enough for Ignis to have some when he woke up).

He knew he should’ve changed into his pajamas, well aware he’d pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he didn’t. All Gladio wanted was to crawl into bed, next to Ignis’ warmth and body heat. Everything else could wait. He placed the water and aspirin on Ignis’ side of the bed and climbed into bed, burrowing deep under the covers and hugging them up over his shoulder.

Over the head of the bed was a pair of recessed lights, dimmed and casting a soft glow on the two. For once, Ignis didn’t look so sharp and unapproachable. He looked . . . well . . . like all of life’s pressures had melted away. All the stress he normally held in his face was gone, replaced with something vulnerable.

The fringe of Ignis’ bangs hung over his eyes; Gladio gently brushed them away, smiling as he was granted a better view of Ignis’ face. His fingers traced over his forehead and down his temple, along his jaw and under his chin. He trailed his index finger over the bump of his nose and across parted lips, the puffs of Ignis’ breaths coming every few seconds.

When Ignis shifted, Gladio snapped back and waited for him to fall back into his deep, drunken slumber. Instead, Ignis cracked one eye open, bleary and unaware of where he was. “What’re y’ doin’?” he mumbled, almost incoherent.

“Nothing . . .” Gladio lied, unwilling to admit that he was caught up in admiring every small detail on Ignis’ face. “Go back to sleep.”

Even half-asleep, Ignis wouldn’t listen when someone asked something of him. He patted his hand across the bed and pillows several times before finding Gladio’s hand resting between them. It wasn’t an accident that he curled his fingers around Gladio’s, holding his hand tight. “Gladio?”

He gulped, stomach flipping and churning with nerves. “Y-yeah, Iggy? What’s up?”

He mumbled something under his breath, squeezing Gladio’s hand closer to him. Gladio waited, hoping Ignis would repeat himself — whatever it was he said. “Ignis? What did you say?”

Nothing came, but that was alright — instead, a rare, uninhibited smile graced Ignis’ lips, contagious as Gladio found himself smiling in return. That smile was the last thing Gladio saw before drifting off to sleep, drunk on more than just alcohol as his hand rested in Ignis’.

Chapter Text

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Gladio’s head pounded, throbbing a slow and steady beat behind his eyes and between his ears. Opening one eye, he tried to take a quick inventory of where he was and remember what happened.

Ok, well . . . for starters, he was in his bedroom, still in his clothes from the night before. His sweat was probably pure alcohol — and he probably reeked of it, too. Shit, was that the sun was peeking through the blinds? Gladio scrambled for his phone and groaned, stomach dropping at the time. 7:53 A.M — way past the time he normally would’ve been up for school. Fridays were usually Jared’s days to take Iris to school, so at least Gladio could count that as a win.

That’s when Gladio heard the familiar sound of someone retching and hacking in his attached ensuite bathroom, door closed in a pointless attempt to muffle the noises. Strange . . . who the fuck was in his —

“ Ignis! ” Gladio thought aloud, the events of the night coming back to him bit by bit. Chunks of the night were lost to the alcohol, but he did remember inviting Ignis upstairs, sharing the second bottle of whiskey with him on the rooftop, and mumbling his way through his past with his father. But the one memory he would never forget, the one that made him smile despite the agonizing hangover and hazy recollection of events, was the way they both drifted off to sleep, fingers interlaced between them. If Gladio concentrated hard enough (which wasn’t very hard because it only served to hurt his head even more), he could still hear his quiet breathing, feel the heat of his hand on Gladio’s, and pretend like there was actually something between them.

He supposed he should go check on Ignis, half-wondering how long he’d been up and why hadn’t he woken Gladio up if he felt nauseous. Slowly — very slowly — Gladio sat up in bed and cursed his past self for all the alcohol he drank, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and wincing. Yes, he had height, muscles, and build on his side, but that apparently did not stand a chance against a night of straight whiskey on an empty stomach. When he was absolutely sure he could handle it, Gladio stood and approached the bathroom door, waiting for a break in Ignis’ continual gagging and heaving before knocking. “Iggy? You good?”

It was only when no response came that he cracked the door open and crept inside. Ignis was a pitiful sight — hair in total disarray, knelt in front of the toilet, both arms on the seat and his head inside the bowl. As Gladio closed the door behind him with a click , Ignis pulled his head up and looked at him, face practically translucent and eyes half-lidded. “Gladio . . . put me out of my misery, please. I’ve never felt more ill in my entire life.”

Gladio snorted and shook his head. “First hangover?”

“You could say that.” A moan escaped Ignis’ mouth as he nodded, spitting excess saliva into the gross toilet water. “I wouldn’t mind if Ramuh himself struck me down right now.”

Gladio didn’t think anyone was home, but he locked the door as a precaution and searched through drawers and closets for a washcloth. After finding one on a middle shelf in the closet, he ran it under some cold water and folded it into thirds, placing it gently on the back of Ignis’ neck as he knelt beside him. “Maybe we should get you some greasy food to hurry the recovery period along,” he suggested, rubbing small, reassuring circles on his back.

“Oh, no . . . we can’t—” More dry-heaving and coughing — apparently he’d rid his stomach of all its contents at this point. “We can’t go out. We have school. Although . . . I believe I turned my alarm off sometime this morning . . . or maybe I slept through it.” He snorted, entertained by his own oversight. “I suppose that’s what I deserve for drinking on a school night; it was only a matter of time before I tarnished my perfect attendance with one late arrival.”

Gladio pursed his lips. He wanted to agree with Ignis that they needed to get to school, but he felt like utter shit. By the looks of things, it didn’t look like Ignis was faring much better. One day wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Ok . . . but hear me out,” he requested. “We’re already going to be super late, and that’s if we left right now. We still need to get ready, you still need to finish throwing up, and then we have to deal with morning traffic.”

“What are you getting at?” Ignis asked, impassive.

“Well . . . why don’t we just call today a wash and do whatever we want to do? For once?”

“You want to skip school?”

“You say ‘skip school’, I say ‘take a mental health day.’”

“Absolutely not.” Ignis shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deep to ward off another bout of retching. “I would love to, Gladio, I really would. But —”

“But what? We’re only in high school once. We’re two of the top students in our damn class. I think we can afford one day to do whatever the fuck we want, don’t you?” When Ignis didn’t respond immediately, Gladio ducked down to meet Ignis’ line of vision. “C’mon, Iggy. We feel like shit and we both know our productivity is basically shot for the day. Let’s go get some breakfast and find something fun to do. Please?”

Ignis rested his head on his arm, his face pallid and expression resigned. “I don’t even have a change of clothes, aside from my school uniform and this,” he leaned back just enough to give Gladio a view of his casual outfit, wrinkled from sleep. “So, what do you propose I do? Buy a new outfit? Wait around so we can launder this one?”

Ignis would never accept the suggestion that he just go out how he was now, so Gladio didn’t dare even try. But, there was one feasible option, one that wouldn’t involve them waiting until the laundry was finished or force them into unnecessarily spending money. He grinned. “How do you feel about borrowing my clothes?”

“I should’ve just worn my school uniform.”

“Hell no.” Gladio shoved another mouthful of pancakes in his mouth, rolling his eyes as he pointed his fork at Ignis. “And risk someone calling the Dean to let him know where we are? Admit it — this was the only way.”

Ignis sat across from Gladio in their booth, pouting into his mug of coffee, wearing a white t-shirt, a black lightweight jacket, and a pair of dark denim jeans that were a little too long.

Back at the Amicitia manor, Gladio had thrown several shirts and a pair of jeans or two at Ignis, giving him options to choose from. After some back and forth (and even more convincing that everything would be fine and they’d have fun), Ignis finally settled on the outfit he was wearing now.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Ignis dressed down, but something about seeing him wearing Gladio’s own clothing, slightly bigger on his lithe figure, made his stomach flutter. And then, seeing the same skull-pendant necklace Gladio gifted him on Giving Day, exposed and resting just under the hollow of Ignis’ neck, turned him into an even bigger ball of nerves.

“I don’t know, Gladio. You don’t think it’s a bit much? I’m completely out of my element.”

“No way,” Gladio said, the words a bit rushed. “You look good!”

That seemed to catch Ignis off guard as he placed his coffee back on the table in favor of some of his breakfast. Even when Ignis tried to hide his face, Gladio noticed the pink on the apples of his cheeks. “Oh . . . you think so? You think I . . . look good?”

Now, it was Gladio’s turn to blush. Of course , Ignis looked good. He always looked good. “I mean . . . uh . . . yeah. You . . . uh . . . I like this on you. My clothes . . . errrr, I mean . . . you dressed down. You look . . .” Gladio cleared his throat and stopped babbling, embarrassed that Ignis made him feel this way.

“Is that so?” Ignis used his fork to cut at his omelet, mulling Gladio’s words over with a subtle smile hinting at the corners of his lips. “You look good, too.”  

Completely tongue-tied, Gladio shoveled more food into his mouth and chugged down his entire mug of coffee, signaling for a refill to their server walking by. It was just the distraction they needed to change the subject to something more neutral.

Between bites of breakfast and sips of coffee, they found themselves embroiled in a light back-and-forth about school, Iris, Ignis’ recounting his track meet, and everything in between, their hangovers quickly becoming nothing more than distant memories.  

“What do you want to do after this?” Ignis asked when finished, wiping his mouth with his napkin and stacking his silverware on his empty plate. He looked more alive now, hydrated and with food in his stomach — a far cry from the guy hunched over a toilet just a few hours before.

Gladio shrugged. “I dunno. Figured we could just walk around the city and find something to do. There’s that new exhibit at the art museum downtown that I’ve been wanting to check out . . . if you want? It got some really good reviews on it.”

Ignis furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side. “Art? I wasn’t aware you were interested in art.”

“Hell yeah! I love art. I can’t draw for shit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good painting or sculpture.”

“Even after all these months, you still manage to surprise me with your interests.” Ignis checked his phone, flicking through pages on the screen until he reached what he’d been looking for — the exhibit’s webpage. “Tickets aren’t a bad price . . . and I have been wanting to go see it, just haven’t had anyone to go with.”

Clapping his hands together, Gladio grinned and said, “Ok, so let’s go! We’ll just take the train up a few stops. How’s that?”

“Yes, that sounds like an excellent plan.”

Right on cue, their server came by to clean up their dishes, offering one last chance at any more food or a drink to-go. When both declined, she smiled and asked, “Will it be one check or separate?”

“Separate.”

“One’s fine.”

Ignis and Gladio froze and stared each other down with wide eyes, both at an impasse. The server waited, chuckling as she balanced the dishes in one hand. “Want me to just flip a coin? Heads, it’s separate; tails, it all comes on one ticket?”

Before Ignis could voice his answer again, Gladio took his wallet out and thrust the debit card in the server’s direction, trumping anything Ignis was about to say. “One check, please.”

She smiled and snatched the card, dashing off to cash them out. Ignis shifted in his seat, fidgeting with his hands and pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “Gladio, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Huh? Do what? Pay for your meal?”

“Yes. I could’ve paid for myself. It isn’t as if I don’t have the funds in my own account.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Gladio shrugged, sipping what little coffee he had left in his mug. Then, with all the bravado he could muster, he added, ”Besides, I owe you for missing out on your track meet and our dinner last night. Figure maybe this could kinda make up for that.”

That Six-damned smirk. “Well, if that’s the case, then I should have definitely paid for our breakfast since it was me that asked you out for dinner after my meet.”

What was with all the emphasis? What was Ignis getting at? Goddammit, were they . . . flirting ? The way Gladio had touched on Ignis’ appearance? The banter over who was paying for breakfast and why they were paying for breakfast? Or, was this just Ignis being Ignis — always witty, sarcastic, and speaking with a sharp tongue?

Gladio knew what he wanted . . . but what exactly did Ignis want?

The paid receipt was placed on Gladio’s side of the table, his card sticking out of the booklet with a pen inside. As Gladio replaced the card in his wallet and signed his name on the receipt, he thought maybe he got his answer when he swore he heard Ignis say, “It looks like another date is in order, then.”

Except, when Gladio snapped his head up, the only sign that Ignis had said anything at all was the faint smirk on his face and a cheeky wink in his direction. He didn’t repeat himself, sliding out of the booth seat to head to the door. Gladio remained seated, unsure if those words were an invitation or a sarcastic joke at his expense.

Or if they were even said at all, not a figment of Gladio’s imagination.

Gladio knew all the signs were there that, whatever he felt, the feeling was mutual, but he didn’t want to build himself up just to be told he’d read the signals wrong. He had it bad for Ignis and there really wasn’t any point in denying it anymore, but it was a lot easier to deal with these complicated emotions alone than it was to invite Ignis in by confessing anything to him. If Ignis didn’t feel a way about him and this was just Gladio reading too much into things, it would hurt more than he cared to admit. Losing Ignis would fucking suck.

He sighed and closed the booklet, smiling as he joined Ignis outside in the warm, spring air.

Thankfully for them, the front desk representative didn’t ask questions when they handed over their student IDs and their money. She printed their tickets and spoke in such a listless fashion that it bordered on tedium, signaling complete apathy on her part. Fine by them, Gladio and Ignis both thought, pocketing their wallets and thanking her for their tickets.

If it meant getting by without getting called out for missing school, they were all for it.

Not a single soul, except for the attendants and those working that day, was there. It made for a quiet and serene walk through the halls, footsteps echoing as they moved from room to room. They spoke in hushed tones, careful not to disturb the overall atmosphere as they discussed the paintings that interested them and debated their opinions over pieces that they didn’t agree on.

Gladio found himself enamored with the fact that he had someone like Ignis to discuss art on a higher level like this. He remembered once trying to convince Pelna and Tredd that coming here would be fun, but all they did was laugh and crack jokes, running down the halls and ignoring the shushing in their direction. After that, Gladio only came here alone, saddened that he didn’t have anyone to talk to about the way this painting made him feel or how that sculpture appealed to him in a certain way.

Ignis had a way of challenging his views, forcing Gladio to look at the paintings and art in new and different lights. It was refreshing, to say the least. “While I enjoy the dark colors and how they evoke a morose mood, I can’t help but wonder if maybe the artist was too caught up in the subtleties? What do you think?”

It was those types of comments, little quips and conversation starters, that gave Gladio pause, an eyebrow raised and a charmed smirk on his lips in Ignis’ direction. The back-and-forth gave the entire experience a new layer of entertainment, something Gladio hadn’t expected. It was nice having Ignis there with him to discuss everything he normally would’ve kept to himself.

Down the hall they went, traversing from one collection of works to the next until they made it to the exhibit they’d come here for, nestled in the back of the museum. From here, Gladio stepped to the left, scanning each piece of art along the walls, while Ignis separated himself and headed to the right. A lone security officer stood in the corner, curtly nodding when Gladio met his eyes. Other than that, Gladio was left alone to enjoy the exhibit he’d looked forward to for so long.

Then, he stumbled upon one painting in particular by an artist very familiar to him. He’d heard she’d be in this exhibit and it was truly one of the biggest reasons, if not the reason, for him coming here.

He was transported back in time, drawn in by the swirls of blues and flecks of yellow. Purple hues were marked through by streaks of red dragged from one end of the canvas to the other, raised to give the painting more texture. Gladio reached out, shaking fingers almost pressed to the painting before he heard the guard behind him scolding him for not reading the signs. As much as it killed him to do so, rules were rules and Gladio abided by them, keeping his hands behind him as he studied the painting carefully like it wasn’t his thousandth time doing so.

“What trouble are you getting into over here?” Ignis teased, sneaking up behind Gladio with light footfalls.”Gladio? Something the matter?”

Gladio snapped his head over to look at Ignis, face neutral, before turning his focus back to the painting, folding his arms across his chest. “‘Empathy of a Child.’ The artist painted it for her son before the birth of her daughter. Her son is symbolized in red, while her daughter is the purple. Apparently, the son was so excited to meet his sister and he promised his mother he’d do whatever it took to protect her — that’s why the red streaks are textured like that. It’s supposed to be him standing tall as her shield.”

Ignis made a small noise as he listened, nodding along with Gladio’s analysis. “Fascinating,” he said, bringing a hand up under his chin in thought. “Your analysis seems rather intuitive, and I have to say I agree with you. Who’s the artist?”

That’s when Gladio smiled distantly. “Dahlia Amicitia,” he stated without skipping a beat.

He felt Ignis’ eyes trail toward him, wide behind his spectacles. “Your mother?”

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed, both pride and sorrow surging through his being at the confirmation. Ignis gasped, unsure of what to say next, but Gladio saved him the trouble. “She was a well-known artist before she met my dad. Back then, she had a pretty significant following, but the money wasn’t there. She ended up opening her own art gallery and kept painting as a hobby. Gods, I used to sit on a chair and watch her paint for hours when I was a kid.” He cocked his head. “That’s probably why I like art as much as I do.”

“Yes, well . . . I can see why you were excited for this exhibit, now.” Ignis had his attention solely on Gladio, mirroring him with his arms across his chest as Gladio’s were.  “Your mother was a fantastic artist. She had quite a talent for seeing the world in a beautiful and exciting way. But . . .” he paused, pressing his lips together in thought. “I’ve been to your house many times and not once have I seen her pictures hanging.”

Gladio’s eyes roamed over the colors as he spoke. “Dad took them all down and shoved them away in her old art room. I guess it was too hard for him to see them, so he had them thrown in there so he wouldn’t have to look at them anymore. As far as I know, no one has been in there since then. I remember him telling Jared to leave the room alone and to not go in there under any circumstances, even to dust or clean it.”

“Oh,” Ignis frowned, adjusting his glasses. “I see.”

Gladio’s lips flapped as he blew air, enervated. “Yup. So . . . that’s that. It’s just nice to see that she’s still appreciated, ‘s all.” With one last look at the painting, Gladio nudged Ignis lightly. “Thanks for coming with me. It really means a lot.”

“Anytime, Gladio.”

Exchanging smiles, they walked back to the front of the museum, ready to wander aimlessly around the city in search of their next activity.

After a quick stop at a food truck to grab a snack, they eventually ended up at the local park in the middle of the city, known for its winding jogging paths and serene atmosphere. The skyline towered above them around the outer edges of the greenery, but here in the middle, things were quiet. Not even the traffic and the sounds of the city could be heard.

Mothers walked their children down the sidewalk in expensive strollers while university students picnicked on blankets. A few dogs fetched tennis balls and sticks, happy to receive praise for returning the thrown items to their owner’s feet.

They claimed a spot at the bottom of a rolling green hill and took a seat, finishing their snacks and drinks from the food truck in silence. In fact, neither one had said much of anything from the time they’d left the art museum, Gladio thankful for the time and space Ignis gave him to process through all the thoughts he had about his mother and her art.

As gracious as he was that her art was still out there, circulating from exhibit to exhibit and available for him to go view, it would never make up for the fact that she was gone. Nothing would.

A faint wind blew, rustling through the trees, his hair, and the patches of flowers across the field — sylleblossoms. Gladio surveyed the field and stood up, leaving Ignis’ side to pick the flowers that had caught his eye. He stood and crouched, up and down, over and over, until he’d amassed two heaping handfuls of the small, blue flowers. He came back and sat down again, this time facing Ignis, and emptied his hands of the flowers on the patch of grass between them.

Ignis watched, his nose scrunched in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Gladio’s nimble fingers braided the stems of a couple of flowers together. He continued this for several minutes in silence, braiding and intertwining the flowers and stems one by one into a chain. “When Iris and I were younger, my parents would take us to this park every spring. My mom would try to teach us how to make these flower crowns, but Iris was too young to catch on and, me being me, I thought it was dumb and didn’t bother trying. Gods, I was a little shit,” he chuckled, shaking his head at the memories before his mood took a more somber tone. “After she died, I spent hours teaching myself how to make them. I read every fucking article online, watched every how-to video . . . I picked it up eventually, but I still wish I had just learned from her when I had the chance.”

Gladio braided in two more flowers and then another after that, holding the chain out to examine it, pleased with his work thus far. “After all that, I brought Iris back here and taught her how to make them, too. Our thing now is that, when we’re done, we go to mom’s grave, say hi, tell her that we miss her, and leave them there for her.” He licked his lips and avoided Ignis’ gaze. “Sorry, I know I’m boring you. Trust me, I know how stupid the whole thing sounds.”

Ignis picked up a single flower and twirled it between his fingers. “It’s not stupid,” he admonished, handing the flower over to Gladio to incorporate into the soon-to-be-crown. “It’s a way for you to keep her memory alive while teaching Iris something she was too young to remember.”

There wasn’t much acknowledgment to Ignis’ statement at first on Gladio’s part, but he finally nodded and hummed thoughtfully. “I never actually thought about it like that,” he murmured, finishing the crown by circling the ends together and tying it off. He held it in his hands, all delicate petals and braided stems, before placing it on Ignis’ head, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “There. Perfect fit.”

“Oh, Gladio . . .” Ignis trailed off, his eyes flicking up in an impossible attempt to see the flowers.

“You like it?” Gladio asked, though it was obvious by watching Ignis’ reaction that he didn’t just like it — he loved it.

“Could you teach me how to make one?”

Gladio’s answer came in the form of a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling and a warm blush spreading across his cheeks. It could’ve easily been written off as the spring weather getting to him, the sun bearing down on the city as it hung high in the air, but Gladio knew what this was. He knew it was Ignis making him feel like this.

They worked with each other on the next crown, Gladio directing Ignis with slow and detailed instructions. Their fingers brushed as they braided and tied stems, only furthering the longing tug Gladio felt in the pit of his stomach. He tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted by Ignis and the endearing way he acted like he knew what he was doing, nodding along as Gladio taught each step with practiced patience.

“It’s a disaster,” Ignis complained, frowning down at his chain of flowers.

Typical, perfectionist Ignis downplaying his work. Gladio lightly shoved his shoulder, smirking. “Oh, shut up, Iggy. It looks fine !” He picked up one of the last few flowers left from the pile, handing it over so Ignis could put it in the chain.

“Yes, but it’s not as beautiful as yours.” The chain was much smaller than what would be fit for a crown, but Ignis learned to tie the two ends together and held it out to Gladio. “I’ll make you a better one soon, but hopefully this can tide you over in the meantime.”

Gladio laughed, accepting the bracelet in his hands but not daring to slip it on his wrist for fear of breaking it. “Thanks, Iggy. I love it. I don’t care what you say, it looks great.”   

After some people-watching and making up stories about their lives, Gladio checked his watch and sighed at the setting sun. The day was coming to an end and it was time for them to head home. Gladio stood, swiping at the dirt and grass clipping on his pants, before extending a hand out to help Ignis to his feet. Sylleblossom crowns and chains in hand, they walked the entire distance back to Gladio’s car, savoring each and every minute together.

The ride to Ignis’ neighborhood was relatively quiet, with only the songs of Ignis’ playlist on in the background. All day, despite the convincing that Gladio had to do on his part to get Ignis to skip school, the vibe between the two had been comfortable and fun. But now, that vibe turned into something strained. Something a little more ominous.  

The city skyscrapers and dense traffic gave way to suburban apartments and greenery. Every so often, Gladio would flick his eyes over to Ignis in the passenger seat, who had the tip of his thumb between his teeth as he watched the world pass them by. “My parents are going to murder me when I get home,” Ignis mumbled as they neared his house, his voice meek. “I can only imagine how furious they were when I didn’t return home after my meet last night . . . and then to skip class altogether today? What was I thinking ?”

“You really think they’d care that much?” Gladio asked, looking over his shoulder to switch lanes.

“Oh, certainly. Without a doubt.” Every time they drove under a streetlight, the worry lines on Ignis’ face sharpened, shadows stretching and reaching until they passed under the next light. “They may not care much for my personal feelings or interests, but when it comes to my success and staying ahead they are ruthless. I won’t hear the end of it when I step through that door.”

Gladio knew all too well what Ignis was feeling — that gut-wrenching, cold sweat, and nausea washing over him in the minutes before going home  The only difference was that Gladio hated going home because it was so desolate, a symbol of how bad things were; Ignis seemed to hate it because it was a constant reminder of how he could never measure up.

All the stress and bullshit could wait one more night, right? What was the harm in putting everything off for just a little while longer? Gladio approached the idea with deliberate caution, careful to not sound too eager. “You know . . . if you want to stay the night again tonight, you’re more than welcome to. If you want . . . the offer is there.”

Ignis was quick to shut him down, eyes finally moving from out the window over to Gladio. “That’s a kind gesture, but I couldn’t. I’ve already overstayed my welcome by passing out on your roof last night.”

“Sure you could,” Gladio countered. “It’s not like you staying out one more night could get you in any more trouble. If it’s that big of a deal, we can just say you were sick.”

Gladio expected more of a fight, especially on something like this, but Ignis was surprisingly willing to relent in this case. His expression remained neutral, but everything else — his shoulders, the muscles along his jawline, the constant bounce of his leg — relaxed as he mulled the thought over. “That’s . . . not a bad plan . . .”

It was a start. “I’ll even give you the bed if you want.”

“Why would you do that?” Ignis made a face, perplexed. “From what I remember, your bed is large enough to accommodate both of us . . . unless . . . you don’t want to —”

“Oh, no! No, it’s not that,” Gladio interrupted, a slight panic to his tone. “No, I just . . . I dunno. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay over or anything.”

He slowed at a four-way stop, one more turn away from Ignis’ street. With no other car around, it allowed him a chance to put the car in park and give Ignis his full attention. “Look, whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. I can take you home right now, or we can go back to my house. You can have the bed or we can share it. Just say the word.”

The silence extended for longer than Gladio would’ve liked, his blood roaring in his ears and his hands tight on the steering wheel. Gods, why was Ignis staring at him like that, with a vehement fire in his eyes, burning a hole straight through to his heart? Why did he look like he had a million words to say, but the foresight to hold back? Even in moments like this, how did Ignis manage to make everything so intense, freezing Gladio in his place?

Then, as if he’d exhausted every outcome and every possibility in all the choices he could make, Ignis choked out a meek but definitive, “Can we go back to your home?”

And, just as quietly as Ignis had been (anything louder would’ve broken the spell of the moment), Gladio asked, “Are you sure?”

A single nod was the only answer Gladio received.

Looking back, Gladio would’ve found it funny that neither one would say anything else all the way home — and both would probably say they were just enjoying the music — but it was something in the way he felt Ignis’ eyes on him, an unmistakable weight he couldn’t shake, that made everything feel . . . well . . . real . Yet, every time Gladio tried to catch him staring, he was just a second or two too late.

As they pulled into Gladio’s driveway and snuck upstairs, Gladio had never felt the urge to say something — anything — more than he did now. I like you. I like you. I like you. Over and over, the words repeated themselves in his head and begged to be said.

It was a slow dance around the obvious, a line in the sand they were dangerously close to crossing. It would take little more than one push, one misstep, and together they’d fall past the point of no return.  

Just three words.

One confession.

But falling asleep that night, covers pulled up to their chins and eyes locked on each other’s, Gladio reconciled with the fact that, just as he convinced himself all day, they would only be friends.

Good friends.

Best friends.

Besides, if Ignis did feel in any way about Gladio, he would’ve said something first.

Right?

Tossing and turning.

There was nothing he could do.

No, not again.

He tried to scream but no words came out.

Get me out of here.

Every attempt to unbuckle his seatbelt, to lean over to her side of the car, to stop her and the car were in vain. Something held him back, glued him to his seat.

Watch out!

She looked his way and smiled, unaware of the vehicle on its collision course with theirs.

He knew what was coming. It always ended the same way.

The loud crash.

Blood. So much blood.

Searing pain down his face. Across his chest.

They were ragdolls at the mercy of force and gravity

Her smile.

Her life.

Fading.

Then —

“Gladio! Gladio!”

When Gladio’s eyes snapped open, he was back in total darkness and the comfort of his bed, Ignis’ face mere inches from his and his hands on both shoulders.”Gladio, wake up! You’re having a nightmare!”

Gladio wasn’t in the car anymore. He wasn’t trapped in the mangled wreckage amidst glass and leaking fuel and jagged steel. There weren’t sirens or distress calls over police scanners or lies that things were going to be ok. He wasn’t coated in his and his mother’s blood, nor was he in mind-numbing pain.

It hurt so much trying to catch his breath like he’d been holding it so long that his lungs threatened to burst. A cold sweat beaded along his forehead and down the back of his neck while he tried to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat. Frantically, his eyes darted from one point in his room to the next, cataloging things as a way of pacifying himself.

He didn’t get too far, however, because Ignis’ palm pressed to the side of Gladio’s face, gently nudging him to look directly in his eyes. “Gladio, look at me. Everything is alright. You’re safe and I’m right here. Take a deep breath, ok?”

Nightmares and night terrors were a common thing for Gladio, but he’d never had anyone there for him when he woke up. It was more overwhelming than he’d ever thought. “Ignis,” he croaked, emotion breaking his voice. “I . . . I . . .”

Try as he might, there was nothing left to say. Gladio knew he should’ve seen this coming from all the years he’d stuffed his emotions down, but, without warning, repressed anguish surfaced in the form of heartbreaking tears and guttural sobs, spilling down his face and soaking into his pillow. He couldn’t stop. As hard as he tried, there was nothing he could do to calm himself down. He curled into himself and did his best to hide away from Ignis, mortified that he couldn’t control the harsh and whining sounds of his cries.

In the midst of everything, Gladio couldn’t pinpoint what was more embarrassing — Ignis having to wake him up, or Ignis watching him crumble helplessly, reduced to nothing more than a pathetic mess because of a stupid nightmare. Gods, if Ignis had any shred of mercy in him, he would get up in the morning and forget everything of this moment.

Hopefully, he’d grant Gladio that small bit of compassion.

But, Ignis didn’t do any of that. He didn’t get up and leave or tell Gladio to get over it. Instead, Ignis dragged Gladio up into his arms and held him close, leaning over him protectively as if to shield him from harm. Gladio had spent so long dealing with things alone that he was confused by Ignis’ kindness, but somehow Gladio’s arms found their way around Ignis, fingers gripping the borrowed sleep shirt as tears stained and soaked through the fabric. Ignis tangled one hand into Gladio’s hair while the other splayed across his back. Quiet whisperings made their way to his ears, but Gladio couldn’t exactly register what it was Ignis was saying.

Not that it mattered.

At some point in the night, the tears slowed. The hysterical sobbing calmed to reticent cries and then, finally, to bearable silence. Ignis pulled away a few times to look Gladio in the eyes (Gladio was thankful that Ignis didn’t mention his blotchy face or stained cheeks), but he always went right back to holding him to his chest.

It was also Ignis who moved and shifted them both so they could lay back down, still holding tight to his hand, fingers now interlaced between them. If there was even an inkling that Gladio was spiraling again, Ignis squeezed his hand once, twice, three times to ground him. A small gesture, but one Gladio needed.

Their breathing evened and synced with each other’s, their heartbeats one. After all the turmoil and the spectacle Gladio thought he caused, it was only a matter of time before they fell back asleep, exhausted, but hands still clasped together.

A lifeline, just in case Gladio needed it again.

Gladio had to suffer a grueling few days of no contact with Ignis. Rational thought told him that Ignis had lost himself in school and Citadel work, while Gladio found himself catching up on schoolwork and taking care of Iris.

Irrationality, however, always won over in these cases. Ignis had to be spooked, scared away by Gladio’s nightmare and panic attack. Who the fuck would want a friendship with someone so irreparably damaged and broken? It was so much work, and quite frankly, Gladio didn’t blame him.

Guess this answered his question as to where they were in their friendship; it definitely wasn’t a ‘comforting each other in the middle of the night’ level of friendship.

Yup, things were weird, and it was all because of his fucked up brain.  

The beautiful weather on the day they skipped school extended into the following week — beautiful weather that Gladio would take full advantage of. Luche and Crowe both texted him earlier that day, letting him know they were heading out for lunch if he wanted to join, but Gladio ignored them. After the end of the prior week and the emotional fallout, Gladio wanted to be alone. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to pretend anything.

Gladio trudged up the hill at the edge of campus, one of the books Ignis gifted him tucked under his arm. Under the newly formed leaves of the tree, he sat with his back against the trunk and cracked the book open, frowning as a piece of paper fluttered from between the pages, catching his attention. He furrowed his brows and picked the paper up, unfolding it to familiar handwriting and only one sentence.

Meet me at our place at 3:30.

”Huh?” Gladio muttered, turning the paper to see the backside just in case there was more to read. There wasn’t, and a quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 3:30.

If Ignis had wanted something from Gladio, why didn’t he just text him? Why the hell (and, more specifically, how and when the hell) did he go through the trouble of placing a note in a book? Ignis was very much to-the-point, so Gladio’s mind raced with thoughts of this being some weird, elaborate joke at his expense. If it wasn’t a joke, surely it was Ignis’ way of letting him down easy, that this friendship was too much for him to handle. That he’d need space forever.

He dreaded the worst, mind going straight to the scenarios where Ignis mocked him for his breakdown, that he couldn’t handle these types of emotions, or just that he straight-up couldn’t work with Gladio anymore. If Ignis ended up calling off their friendship and working partnership, Gladio would grant him that distance, but fuck would it hurt.

When Gladio came upon their desk, his heart fluttered at the sight of Ignis standing at the window, looking out with a small smile on his lips. Gladio could’ve turned around and walked away, pretending like he didn’t get the note at all, but Ignis spotted him before he could leave, ruining any and all chances he had to run. “Gladio, I’d hoped you received my note. I’m sure you thought it was all a bit unorthodox, given the fact that I could’ve easily texted you.”

“Uh, yeah . . .” Gladio agreed, shifting his bag up higher on his shoulder and taking the several steps necessary to close the gap between them. “I figured maybe you just . . . I dunno . . . you were being nice and wanted to talk to me in person about . . . I dunno . . . that you need space or something?”

The fact that Ignis’ lips remained quirked, like this was all so damn amusing to him, annoyed Gladio. “And why on Eos would I need space?”

Was Ignis really going to humiliate Gladio further by making him list out what he thought he did wrong? “Come on, Iggy . . . are you really doing this to me?” When Ignis didn’t say anything — still smirking that infuriating smirk — Gladio sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know shit was intense the other night and I won’t stop you if you want to put an end to us hanging out, but I really hope —”

It all happened in the blink of an eye; so fast, actually, that it wasn’t until Ignis’ lips were on Gladio’s that he realized what the fuck was happening. Ignis had his fingers wrapped around Gladio’s tie and tugged him down, pulling him in for a kiss — a kiss so soft and sweet (and tasting vaguely of coffee and mint) that it made Gladio’s head spin.  

Eyes still closed, Gladio savored the taste on his lips and hoped to the Six above that this wasn’t a dream. When he cracked one eye open, then the other, he nearly melted at the sight of Ignis standing there, his eyes opening at the same time and Gladio’s tie still in his grip. “Iggy . . . what the —”

Ignis didn’t let him say anything else,  releasing the tie and smoothing out the wrinkles he’d created. “The note wasn’t so I could let you down gently. It was there because I know there’s a hopeless romantic side of you that would find a gesture of that nature endearing.”

"Wait, hold on," Gladio gulped and blushed. “S-so . . . you don’t hate me? Even after . . . everything the other night?”

"Hate you?" Ignis laughed. “Oh Gladio . . .there’s not much you can do to scare me away or make me hate you. What I said on your rooftop? That I was here for you and that I wasn’t going anywhere? I meant that. I meant every bit of it.” Ignis brought a hand up to Gladio’s face, his thumb brushing against his scar. “I’ve been fortunate enough to learn just how kind, strong, and brilliant you are. I’ve learned that the love you have for your passions and your family knows no bounds and I admire the hell out of you for that. More than admire . . .”

“Iggy?” Gladio whispered, still far too stunned to move or say anything else or even breathe. “What are you saying?”

“I thought maybe all the hints I’ve dropped would be enough to tell you how I feel, but in case you still need that final confirmation, then here it is: I like you, Gladio. I like you a lot . . . maybe more than you think.”

Gladio always wondered when he would feel happiness again. For the first time in years, it felt like a ray of sun had managed to peek its way through the low-lying cloud of misery he’d been through. Under Ignis’ hand, he smiled so big that his cheeks hurt, a genuine feeling of elation buzzing through him. This was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, a bliss unparalleled.

Pulling Ignis closer by wrapping one arm around his back, and once he could formulate a clear and coherent statement (one that was not muddled by shock and surprise), Gladio whispered, “In that case . . . can we do that again?”

Behind the bookshelves, hidden away from the rest of the school and their peers, their second kiss proved even sweeter than the first.

Chapter Text

If anyone had told Gladio at the beginning of the year that he’d be dating Ignis Scientia, he would’ve laughed in their face. But, here he was, happier than he’d been in ages, and it was such an unbelievable concept to Gladio that he could hardly wrap his brain around the whole thing.

Truly, every minute was perfection. Bliss. Their new relationship was fun and beautiful and everything Gladio hoped for. He felt like a child again with the same excitement he had on the days leading up to Giving Day or his birthday. Food tasted different . . . better. Love songs were now all about Ignis. Colors were more vibrant, no longer muted and dull

For the first time, every waking moment was better than even the best of his dreams.

As much as Gladio wanted to scream from the rooftops that he and Ignis were together, he thought it best to hold this one close to his chest. It wasn’t something Gladio wanted to deal with and it sure as hell wasn’t something he wanted Ignis involved with. Best to keep things quiet.

However, that didn’t mean that small smiles and discreet waves weren’t exchanged when passing each other in the hallways. It didn’t mean that text messages weren’t sent under desks during class. It also didn’t stop them from meeting up behind the school building for a quick kiss or two, promising to see each other after school so they could escape to the confines of Gladio’s bedroom where things were safe. Alone, they were free to be the people they wanted to be —  not what society and friends and family wanted them to be.

On the afternoons and evenings when their schedules both happened to be clear — when Gladio wasn’t responsible for Iris and her extracurriculars, or when Ignis didn’t have to be at the Citadel to tend to Prince Noctis  — Gladio would secretly pick Ignis up, planting a quick kiss to the side of his cheek before driving to wherever they needed to be, hands held over the center console while music played from Ignis’ playlist. Stop lights were the perfect opportunity to steal more kisses from each other, giggling when they’d take too long and a car behind them honked, alerting them to the green light.

One time, at a particularly long stoplight, Ignis caught Gladio staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all.”

And, for once, Gladio realized he truly meant that.

There wasn’t anything wrong at all.

Gladio and Ignis had a lot of schoolwork they wanted to catch up on. After picking Iris up from her piano lessons — and maybe a brief stop at the frozen yogurt shop for an afterschool snack and some brain food — the three headed back to the Amicitia manor where Gladio instructed Iris to finish her homework (“When you’re done, give it to me or Jared to check over, ok?”) while both he and Ignis holed up in his room to get their own work started.

Even though there was a desk and a bed, both enjoyed sitting together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed and all their work spread out around them. With the way their marked-up papers and books were scattered about, it was difficult to see where Gladio’s stuff ended and Ignis’ stuff began. A bit of a mess for sure, but Gladio would’ve rather had the mess than to sit on opposite sides of the room.

When they worked together like this, they often fell into an intense silence as they immersed themselves in their studies. There was hardly ever any conversation until they were finished, so it was surprising, to say the least when Ignis broke the monotony of the stillness with the most random of questions. “Gladio . . . What plans do you have for the future?”

“I dunno,” Gladio mumbled, turning the page of his textbook. “Probably help Jared clean the kitchen after dinner, finish up this physics homework, and read—”

Ignis shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he interrupted, pursing his lips. “I wasn’t referring to the immediate future.”

How was I supposed to know that? “Ok . . . then what did you mean?”

With a vexed sigh, Ignis clarified. “What are your long-term goals? Your aspirations? Your hopes and dreams? I’ve contemplated this a lot and I realized . . . well, we’ve been working on this project since August and I’ve yet to learn what it is you want to do with your life once we graduate.”

The question brought Gladio and all his thoughts to a halt, a sinking, sick feeling bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like any conception of a future at all for him had died right along with his mother that day. But, Ignis was curious and Gladio figured he’d wade through his complicated emotions on the matter to appease him.

“I . . . uh . . . well . . .” he stammered, looking up to the ceiling like the answers would be written there, scrawled beside the fan. He exhaled, a sarcastic smirk on his lips. “The Crownsguard. I always thought I’d join the Crownsguard. My dad used to say that I would run around as a kid, fighting the ‘bad guys’ in my pretend Crownsguard uniform. I think I wanted to go that route because it’s the path he took before becoming the king’s right-hand man. I remember wanting to be just like him when I grew up, so joining the Crownsguard was literally all I could think of. I built my entire life and future around the idea.”

Ignis cocked his head, textbook still opened in his lap but ignored at this point. “But?”

“But what?”

“I’m waiting for the caveat.”

Another sigh, reluctant to continue. He didn’t appreciate Ignis digging into something like this — probably should’ve told him to just drop it. “But . . . I dunno. Life happened, I guess. I was in that accident, mom died, I lost sight of what I wanted, and now I’m here.”

“I see . . .” Ignis pondered, finger tapping his chin.

“What?” When Ignis didn’t say anything right away, Gladio said, “Spit it out. What are you thinking?”

A stretch of silence dragged between them as Ignis attempted to find the right words. “It’s just . . . it’s a shame that someone with as much potential and promise as you could throw away a future like that.”

That stung. “I didn’t throw away my future,” Gladio retorted, flinching at the remark. “It’s not like I stopped trying or whatever. I had — have — shit to deal with. Trust me, if I knew I could balance all of . . . this —” He waved his hands abstractly in the air. “— while pursuing that , then I would. But . . . but, I can’t, alright?”

Ignis seemed to find humor in that. “Can’t? Or won’t?”.

Gladio, on the other hand, did not. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I don’t think you can’t do it, Gladiolus.” Oh, great. The full name. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of  — prioritizing what’s important while maintaining top marks in our class. It’s not that you can’t do it . . . it’s that you’re too scared to try.”

Gladio wasn’t expecting or wanting an impromptu therapy session. Even if Ignis was coming from a place of concern, it still wasn’t any of his business. This conversation was grating on Gladio’s last nerve and he about had enough. “I’m not scared , Ignis. What the fuck would I have to be scared over?”

Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re Iris’ primary caretaker. You have a rocky relationship with your father and you’ve lost your mother. You’ve spent the last couple of years of your life stumbling through what you want to be and what you should be.

“You’re scared of losing something else you hold so dear, your dreams included. You’re scared of disappointing your father again and you’re scared of leaving Iris behind. Most of all, your life has been a mess of instability and you’re scared to rock what little consistency you’ve cultivated for yourself. You’re perfectly capable of taking control of your future again . . . but, from where I’m sitting, it appears that you’re scared of the unknown. And . . . I can’t imagine your mother would want you to live your life in fear the way you have because of the accident.”

That was the final straw. Gladio snarled and pointed a finger at Ignis, enraged. “You don’t know shit about my mother, so don’t act all fucking high and mighty , using her as some bullshit way to spark some motivation in me or something. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, so I’d appreciate it if you laid off the fucking preaching. What I choose to do with my life and my future is not your fucking business, alright?”

Ignis’ eyes widened a fraction. Whatever he was about to say, Gladio didn’t want to hear it. “I’ve got work to do,” he hissed, effectively shutting Ignis out.

There were many times where Gladio joked that Ignis saw through him in a way no one else possibly could, but right now there wasn’t anything funny about the way Ignis dissected his decisions. Yeah, sure, maybe he had a point, but that didn’t mean Ignis had to go and lay it all out on the proverbial table like this. Ignis sometimes had a tendency to push and push and push, unable to differentiate when to give up and when to keep going.

Gladio definitely didn’t expect him to read his mind or to tiptoe around him, but goddamn . . . could the guy have a little compassion? A little empathy? Was it so hard for him to understand that not everyone processed things the way he did?

The atmosphere was frosty, Gladio giving Ignis the cold shoulder while Ignis seemed to pretend he wasn’t affected by the sudden change in mood. Gladio knew it was an act because Ignis’ attention span was shot. He flipped through his notebook and textbooks and looked like he was deep in thought, but it was clear he wasn’t actually doing anything. He didn’t write notes at the fervor he previously had. He didn’t hum when an idea struck him. Nothing.

About an hour passed before the tension thawed to something a little more lukewarm. Gladio hadn’t even noticed his shoulders relaxed at some point, the pinch of tight muscles fading to a dull ache. Ignis, however, was still doing the same thing he was before — pretending to work when he mind was millions of miles elsewhere.

When Ignis cleared his throat, the sound was enough to make Gladio jump. He figured the rest of the night would be spent in awkward tension until it was time to take Ignis home, not another word spoken between them — obviously he was wrong. “I apologize, Gladio,” Ignis mumbled, the words loud despite how soft he spoke. “It was not my intention to . . . It wasn’t fair of me to . . .”

Apparently, apologies weren’t Ignis’ strong suit. He opened and closed his mouth, maybe worried about pushing Gladio further away if he said the wrong thing again. Gladio waited another few seconds, just in case, before speaking. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but I appreciate the sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, making the executive decision that he was done with schoolwork for the night. With his notes and books pushed to the side, Gladio extended his legs out in front of him and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “I still want to join the Crownsguard . . . I really do. It’s just . . . it’s a lot, you know? I never planned for my life to be this . . . shitshow , I guess.”

Ignis bookmarked his place by leaving his pen in the middle of his textbook before closing it, his expression a muted look of relief — probably thankful that the cold spell between them was wearing off. “Either way, you’re doing your best. If you still decide to go the route of joining the Crownsguard, I have nothing but the utmost faith you’d be accepted. With your academic marks, they’d be foolish not to admit you.”

Gladio picked absentmindedly at a thread on the rug underneath him. “The whole reason I’m as high up in our class ranking as I am is because I know doing well academically is as important as staying on top of things physically.”

Puzzled, Ignis said, “I haven’t ever seen you train or workout.” It was a rare sight to see Ignis get flustered, but here he was, eyes wide and hands up. “I mean that in the best way. You are incredibly strong and I’m almost certain you could bench twice your weight and you could run circles around the Crownsguard applicants I’ve seen come through the Citadel doors and —”

It was hard not to laugh at the way Ignis tried to overcompensate for all he was saying now. “I used to train . . . before everything happened. I mean, I would if I could now, but I just haven’t had the time to devote to a routine. But for real, back then? When I was serious about everything? I would spend hours doing anything I could to stay in top shape. Cardio, weights, boxing, sparring with my dad . . . you name it, I was doing it.”

“Oh, really?”

Gladio nodded, a surge of pride coursing through him as he remembered all he was capable of. “I sparred with my dad a few times and he would kick my ass . Gods, it would piss me off every time he beat me. I tried over and over and over until one day . . . one day I think I kicked his legs out from under him and managed to get him down before he tapped out. I was so damn proud of myself, and I could tell he was, too.” He went quiet for a second before ending with, “I wonder sometimes if I’ve still got it in me to do that again.”

“We can.” Before Gladio could even ask what Ignis meant, Ignis was up on his feet, already sizing up the room and his competition. Then, he held a hand out to pull Gladio up as well.  “Let’s see what you’ve retained since then. You and I. One-on-one. Right now.”

Gladio nodded once, taking the proffered hand. “Alright, let’s go. You don’t have a chance in hell against me. I’ll take you.”

They started a few feet apart from each other, readying themselves for what they both thought would be an intense sparring match . . . well, as intense as a sparring match could be in someone’s bedroom. Gladio’s room was much larger than the average teenager’s room, but it definitely wasn’t big enough to hold a sparring match comfortably. Still, he was confident in his abilities to take Ignis down, regardless of how much space they had to work with.

Except . . . he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The first round ended with Ignis crouching low to the ground, kicking Gladio’s legs out from under him and leaving him sprawled out on the floor, much like he described doing to his father in their sparring match years ago.

The second round ended with Gladio charging toward Ignis and left surprised when he easily dodged him, tackling him from behind while bringing one of Gladio’s arms behind him, pulling and pulling on said arm until he tapped out.

Ok, maybe he’d underestimated Ignis a little bit, but not this time. As they say, third time’s a charm.

By then, Gladio was irritated. He wasn’t sure if he was that out of practice, if Ignis was that good, or maybe his mind wasn’t all in like it should’ve been, but it pissed him off that he was oh-and-two. This time, he would win. This time, he was ready.

They started out, as they had the last two rounds, standing opposite of each other. Ignis wore his cool and confident demeanor like a badge of honor, while Gladio couldn’t look any more determined.

Or pissed.

Whatever.

Gladio didn’t wait for a signal to start; he leapt forward and started to reach for Ignis head-on, giving the illusion he hadn’t learned his lesson the first two times that approaching directly was a terrible, horrible idea. Ignis fell for this plan and, once again, started to sidestep Gladio’s attempts to grab him.

Perfect , Gladio thought.

He breezed passed Ignis’ figure and half-turned his body, anticipating Ignis’ attack from behind. With as much power as he could muster, Gladio pushed off his feet and tackled Ignis, smirking at the look of utter shock and surprise on his face right before Ignis’ back made contact with the floor with a loud and echoing thud .

Holy shit, he did it. Both of them tried to catch their breaths as they realized what had happened. Turned out, Gladio did have it in him to win a sparring session. They started to laugh, but then . . . winded, with Ignis’ arms pinned up over his head and Gladio settled comfortably on top, they locked eyes and suddenly . . . everything stopped. The world narrowed to just the two of them alone in the bedroom.

Whatever moment was happening did not go unnoticed. “I win,” Gladio declared, quiet and breathless.

That infuriating smirk . . . though, if Gladio was honest, he fucking adored it. “According to our win-loss ratio, I’d venture to say you lost,” Ignis responded in kind, mirroring Gladio’s same soft voice — a voice that electrified every nerve and cell in his body, unable to be contained.

They were close. So close that their noses were practically touching. Gladio watched the way Ignis’ eyes darted wildly, trying to maintain eye contact, his chin tipped back in mock superiority. He noted the subtle blush that crept on Ignis’ cheeks, all the way up to the tips of his ears, partially hidden by his hair. His Adam’s apple moved as he gulped, a surefire sign that nerves were getting the better of him.

It wasn’t clear who made the first move — Did Gladio lean down? Had Ignis sat up? Did they meet in the middle? — but their lips were on each other’s, slow and tentative and full of apprehension at first, but then all at once. It was like all the feelings and emotions they’d bottled up for each other were channeled into this kiss, a physical outlet for everything inside.

Gladio carefully released one of Ignis’ wrists, sliding his hand down to Ignis’ forearm, then his bicep, and all the way to his chest, before lingering at the hem of his pants. Did he dare to go further? Did he want to risk the chance of getting denied? Lust and hormones and conveying the deepest of feelings made the decision for Gladio as he slowly untucked Ignis’ shirt from his pants, satisfied when he was able to run his hand up bare, alabaster skin and taut muscles.

Hearing Ignis moan was just about the sweetest sound Gladio had ever heard. It was a sign that he was doing something right — and fuck if he didn’t want more. The heated flesh on the tips of Gladio’s fingers, the way Ignis’ lips tasted against his . . . It was all Gladio could do to toe the line further and further, fingers exploring and dancing under Ignis’ shirt.

He felt Ignis flex his other trapped wrist under his grip and let it go, pleased when that freed hand flew to the back of Gladio’s neck, pulling him deeper in the kiss. Ignis pried Gladio’s lips open with his tongue, an action that Gladio wasn’t anticipating at all, sucking in an air of surprise as he tried his best to still the dizziness in his head. Until now, Gladio hadn’t realized that he was hard, aching and wanting all of Ignis’ attention — and he sure as fuck wasn’t the only one turned on, judging by the bulge in Ignis’ pants.

Somewhere, in the midst of the passionate exchange, they shifted positions and it was Ignis on top, one hand planted firmly on the ground beside Gladio’s head while the other fumbled with the buttons of his uniform shirt. Gladio carded his hands through Ignis’ hair, from the top of his head to the base of his skull, holding him close with his hand around the back of his neck as his tongue desperately explored the inside of Ignis’ mouth.

Gladio was sure that Ignis could feel his heart pounding in his chest with every pop of a button. What would happen next?  Would Gladio sit up and shrug his shirt off? Did they need to move this up to the bed? Was Ignis expecting Gladio to take this further?

He wasn’t sure why he even had all these questions. It wasn’t the first time he’d fooled around with anyone before — Nyx had helped him along in a majority of that department — but there was something about being with Ignis that made it all nerve-wracking. It was almost like this was all entirely new to him, but it wasn’t. Scary, but familiar. Awkward, but not.

So many contradictions. So many goddamn questions.

Except, there would be no need to take things further, no need for questions or moving or wondering what would happen next or what Gladio would need to do. Without warning, the bedroom door was thrown open by a triumphant-looking Iris, papers in hand. “Gladdy! I’m done with — “

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ignis and Gladio quickly tore themselves off of each other, scrambling to stand and pretend like they hadn’t just been caught on top of each other, lip-locked and panting and grinding. Gladio cursed as he hastily buttoned his shirt, while Ignis righted the glasses on his face and smoothed his own shirt of the wrinkles that had formed when it was bunched up around his chest.

Iris always had a predilection of showing up at the wrong times. “Were you guys just kissing ??” she squealed, her eyes bright and her voice a whole octave higher.

Gladio knew he should approach the situation as if he were diffusing a bomb — one wrong move and it could ultimately spell disaster. Panic and embarrassment, however, made him want to just get rid of Iris as fast as possible. “What do you want, Iris?” he growled, already taking steps toward her to usher her out. Ignis stayed standing where he was, eyes trained on one spot of the rug under his feet.

“You said you wanted to check my homework when I was done, so here!” She thrust the papers up at Gladio. “And I want to hang out with you guys!”

“No, you can’t hang out with us. Go get Jared to check your homework.” Maybe he was shorter with her than necessary, but the sooner she left, the better.

“He’s busy!”

“Yeah? So am I!”

“No you’re not! You guys don’t look busy! You were just kissing on the floor! I saw it!” She looked positively giddy saying that again. It was either the romantic in her, or it was because she knew it was driving Gladio mad.

“Gladio, it’s ok she can st —”

“No, she’s not staying!” Gladio said, glowering over his shoulder in Ignis’ direction. “We have homework to finish and shit to do!” He looked back at Iris. “Iris, get out right now ! Go. Away!”

That was the worst thing to say to her. Her mood changed instantaneously — face reddening, cheeks puffing with air, tiny body tensing. Oh great , a bonafide Iris meltdown. “If you don’t let me stay, I’ll tell Daddy you were mean and wouldn’t check my homework! And that you and Ignis were kissing . . . on the lips .”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The last thing Gladio needed was Iris tattling to their father for any reason. She already looked ready to bolt at the first sign of being told ‘no’ one more time. He needed to find a way to appease his little sister before she went running . . . and at this point, there was only one way to make her happy.

Give in to her demands.

Throwing his hands in the air, Gladio conceded defeat. “Fine! Alright! You win!” he said, rolling his eyes and sighing. “You can stay in here and I’ll check your homework.”

As quick as her mood darkened, that’s how fast it picked back up. “Really?” she squealed, like she didn’t know it was her temper that forced Gladio’s hand.

He snatched her homework papers from her clutches, irritated with her and the gods above for allowing this to even happen. “Yeah, just sit at my desk and don’t say a word, ok? Not one peep. If Ignis or I hear anything from you, you’re going to your own room, understand?”

She let out another high-pitched squeal and skipped over to the desk, plopping herself in his desk chair and kicking her feet out in uncontained excitement. As Gladio stalked back to the floor beside his bed, back to where their textbooks and notes and writing utensils were abandoned in favor of more fun activities, he caught Ignis’ eyes and sighed, hoping Ignis at least caught the mental apology he tried to wordlessly convey.

Homework was uneventful after that.

Later that night, long after dropping Ignis back off at home and tucking Iris in goodnight, Gladio laid awake in bed. The afternoon’s activities were at the forefront of his mind, so vivid and clear that Gladio could swear Ignis was still on top of him.

His taste.

His touch.

The soft moans and short breaths, grinding against each other.

Fucking shit.

Gladio palmed himself through his pajama pants, his cock already hard and aching. There hadn’t been a chance to relieve himself earlier, and now that he was alone with his thoughts, it only made his urge that much stronger.

He traced his fingers along the band of his pants and underwear. As he lifted his hips, he hooked his thumbs inside the band and tugged both garments down, his cock springing from its confinement. After lowering back onto the mattress and kicking his clothes to the bottom of the bed, Gladio took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pretended it was Ignis’ hand and not his own running up the inside of his thigh, inching closer and closer to his cock. Teasing him. Torturing him.

The Ignis in his fantasies liked to play it cool, like he had all the confidence in the world and endless hours to spare. He would probably stare at Gladio with those intense, entrancing green eyes, waiting for a reaction as he explored the most sensitive spots on Gladio’s body. Maybe he’d whisper under his breath, quiet enough to make Gladio believe that he’d imagined whatever words were said  

As Gladio gave himself a few perfunctory strokes, having teased himself enough, his other hand moved over the entirety of his chest, shuddering as he flicked a thumb over one of his nipples. It was almost easy enough to imagine Ignis’ hot breath hovering over his pecs, planting kisses along his collarbone and down his chest and stomach. Gladio arched his back slightly into the Ignis of his imagination, pretending that his kisses ended at the junction between his leg and pelvis.

Gods, he wanted Ignis so bad that it hurt. It literally — literally — hurt. Gladio would’ve given anything to have him here right now, grabbing his balls and stroking his cock, lubed with the precome that leaked liberally from the slit. In his head, it was Ignis’ mouth on his, Ignis’ hips slotted perfectly between his, Ignis’ cock grinding against his.

Fucking Astrals, he was close. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, maybe two, and Gladio was already teetering on the edge. With barely a few more strokes, Gladio stifled his moan by biting into the back of his hand and squeezed his eyes shut, his world fading to nothing but black and tiny pinpricks of color. That familiar tug behind his naval overtook him. Heat pooled low in his belly and finally, Gladio gave in to the sweet relief of his orgasm, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over him and pulling him under.  

Gradually, he came back to himself, his eyes fluttering open and disappointment settling in like heavy lead as he found himself alone again in the dark. The euphoria and high faded, replaced with an odd sense of depression brought on by his solitude. Very odd, considering Gladio got himself off more times than he could count and he never once opened his eyes to emotions like this. Usually, he’d just get up, clean off, and go to sleep without thinking anything of it.

Not tonight.

Gladio sauntered to the bathroom to wash up and ready himself for bed, but he couldn’t shake the very real notion that something was different now. Not in a bad way, no . . . but different .

Climbing back into bed with his phone and turning off the overhead lights, Gladio pulled up his e-mail application and, after a few false starts, reached out to the one person who could help him.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Hey

 

nyx, this thing with ignis . . . i dont know what the fuck im doing. i need your help. please.

Gladio knew he wouldn't receive an e-mail back anytime soon (one of many shitty downfalls to Nyx's deployment), but he didn't feel like he had anyone else to turn to. Nyx was the only person he felt comfortable around with something like this. The only person he could talk to.

The phone fell with a slap on Gladio's chest after he pressed ‘Send’ on his message, bringing the room back into darkness.

Several days later, Gladio’s mouth twisted in apathy as he said, “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Gladio as he said this, all incredulous and shocked as if he’d grown a second head right in front of them.

Gladio and his friends were all discussing their plans for prom, just a few mere months away. It was only the biggest night of Insomnia Academy’s senior body, and yet Gladio had let the night sneak up on him.

“What do you mean? How have you not thought about it? It’s basically a free pass to drink and get high!” Tredd reasoned, his voice a pitch higher and filled with disbelief.  

“A ‘free pass’? Dude, we drink and smoke every goddamn weekend.”

“Yeah, but this is different!”

Luche rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Why? Because we’re wearing tuxes and dresses?” When Tredd only responded with a half-shrug, Luche turned his attention to Gladio and eyed him with judging scrutiny. “It’s prom, Amicitia. There are signs and shit everywhere . Even I’ve thought about it . . . and you know I fucking hate this shit.”

True, Luche was the antithesis of school pride and participation, but Gladio had his reasons for disregarding the event, one being the convenient fact that the Citadel Gala was the exact same night that prom was. Still, he tried to play it cool. “You guys know my dad is all up my ass about that Citadel thing. It’s not that I don’t want to go or anything.”

Crowe cocked her head, a single strand of dark hair falling from her messy bun. “He grounded you indefinitely for Nyx’s party, but is still making you go to that thing?”

Yes. No. Not really. I don’t know. “No, it’s not that. It’s just an Amicitia tradition to be there, and my dad is all about tradition. It’s protocol or whatever.”

Everyone’s eyes burned holes in Gladio as he struggled to keep them off his back, Luche most of all. Gladio figured everyone else would lose interest fast, but Luche kept him on his toes. Before any other question could be thrown his way — before Gladio had to deflect anything else — the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Everyone stood and collectively packed their bags, walking together to the entrance of the school.

As Gladio followed, a hand on his arm stopped him from going further. He turned to find Luche staring at him, eyes narrowed. “Speaking of . . . how are you and Scientia doing on that stupid project? You haven’t said a lot about him lately.”

What Gladio wanted to say was, ‘That’s a random fucking question’, considering they’d just been talking about prom and the gala. The way Luche asked this didn’t sound like it came from a place of genuine concern or curiosity. His face only furthered that inkling. “Oh, same old shit. Nothing too crazy. It takes everything I have to get through our time together,” Gladio growled, feigning his utmost hatred for Ignis. “He’s still the pompous, boring asshole we figured he was. Is. Whatever.”

“You haven’t been around much these days and I heard through the grapevine you’ve been spending time with that fucker. Now . . . I’ve known you for a while, Amicitia, and I know you wouldn’t lie to me . . . right ?”

A cold sweat trickled down Gladio’s neck despite the sun’s warm rays on him. “Why the fuck would I lie about how I felt when it comes to Scientia? If I had it my way, I’d tell him to fuck off and get lost, but this project is all that’s between me and graduation.”

Maybe Gladio wasn’t as great at lying these days as he thought he was. Maybe Luche was wising up to his deceit. As much as he wanted to brush off his paranoia, Gladio knew in his heart of hearts that Luche wasn’t entirely convinced. He gave Gladio one slow nod, the corners of his lips curling upward into an unsettling sneer and a subtle glint of madness in his eyes.

Luche didn’t say anything. Instead, he slapped Gladio’s shoulder once, twice, in a gesture that signaled he didn’t want to argue the point any further.

But Gladio knew he wasn’t off the hook.

Luche was onto him.

And he was hungry for Gladio’s downfall.

Chapter Text

It was a little after midnight — that time of the night where the conversations are hushed and the questions are deep. Gladio was supposed to take Ignis home after another typical, run-of-the-mill study and project session, but the closer they came to Ignis’ home, the more they realized they weren’t ready to part yet. One lap around the neighborhood turned to two, turned to a drive to the outskirts of the city, finally turned to an impromptu trip an hour or so away to Galdin Quay — a luxurious, ritzy resort famous for its quality seafood and white sandy beaches.  

Once they arrived, all sea breeze and salty air, Gladio parked the car under the overhang designated for resort patrons and, together, the two walked hand-in-hand up and down the beach. At first, they remained largely quiet, both more interested in enjoying the sound of the waves, the sight of the stars, and feeling the sand under their feet as they strolled with their shoes dangling from the fingers of their free hands.

It wasn’t until their second time down the length of the shore that Gladio squinted at a rocky ridge up ahead. How did he not remember this? A rush of memories slowed him to a stop and he smiled, causing Ignis to pause as well, following his eyes with his own to find the haven a short distance away. “Gladio? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond right away, adrift in thoughts of much fonder times. With Ignis’ hand in his, and without a shred of urgency in his steps, he led him up to the top of the haven by the steep slope that ran along the side of it. When they reached the flat surface, only then did Gladio release Ignis’ hand and walk alone to the center.

What a strange out of body experience. If he squinted hard enough, Gladio could almost see his younger self running around the campfire, his father setting up the tent as he frolicked. The cooler would’ve been right behind him, garishly orange and sturdy enough to double as an extra seat if they needed it. A few beers, some water bottles, a juice box or two, and snacks. Back then, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, but the summer heat had long since set in, oppressive and miserable for anyone except a child excited to begin a trip with his idol.

“Gladiolus, don’t stray too far! Stay where I can see you!”

His mentor.

“I want to play in the water! Please? I’ll race you!”

His father.

“Oh, alright. Let’s start at the bottom of the haven. First one to the shoreline wins!”

“Damn,” he ruminated, sadness seeping into his words. “I’d almost forgotten about this.”

“Forgotten about what?” Ignis asked, his steps muted without his shoes on. The stones were still warm from the sun that had set so long ago..

“This! The haven!” Gladio turned around and held his arms out wide, gesturing to rock formation they were standing on. “As a kid, my dad used to take me here every summer so we could go camping. We’d pack our stuff, say goodbye to my mom, and stay here for a week. This is where I learned to fish, swim, pick out the constellations . . .” His eyes lit up as he reminisced. “Having his attention for an entire week? Just me? Fuck, it was like Giving Day in the middle of summer.”

“So, what happened?”

“Hm?”

Ignis padded forward, closing the gap between them. “What happened? Why did you stop going?”

“Life, I guess,” Gladio responded, turning his back to Ignis as he walked to the edge of the haven, sitting so his legs dangled over the rocks. When Ignis followed, sitting beside Gladio with his hands in his lap, Gladio looked at him and shrugged. “Work got busier. Iris got a little older. The tradition just . . . died. No real reason, honestly.”

“None?”

“Nope,” he reaffirmed. “I . . . I miss it though. Sitting here thinking about it? I miss it a lot. I know how weird that sounds. Here I am, remembering things I’d forgotten about for a long time, and somehow I still miss it. Maybe the good times my dad and I had? That’s probably it. I dunno.”

The sea breeze kicked in again, blowing through their hair and granting them a welcome break from the humidity that Galdin was known for. Something about the rustling of the palm trees and the rhythmic sounds of the ocean lulled them into relaxation. “You know, Gladio,” Ignis began, eyes closed. “I’ve always wanted to go camping. It’s one of the many things I seem to have missed out on growing up. Maybe . . . maybe you and I could come out here and you could show me how it’s done? Show me all you’ve learned?”

Gladio’s initial reaction was to scoff at this, but when he saw how serious Ignis was, his tune changed. “Wait, hold on. You want to go camping? You ?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Ignis asked, his tone somewhere between mirth and disappointment. “Do I not strike you as the type to venture outside the confines of a library or the Citadel?”

“I mean, I just can’t picture you roughing it in the wild or sleeping in a tent. No offense.”

It didn’t seem like Ignis took offense at all. On the contrary, his interest was piqued, maybe viewing Gladio’s vision of him as a challenge. “And here I thought we were past all the first impressions.”

“Well, do you blame me?” he laughed, legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the haven as he spoke.

“Then, let me show you that I have what it takes,” Ignis implored. “Take me camping this summer, once school has ended and we’ve graduated.”

His heart soared, mind running a mile a minute as he thought of all the fun they could have. All he could teach him. Hell, it didn’t even need to be a weeklong thing — he’d take a weekend if that was all they were given. However long they had, Gladio would make it worth it. “You’d be alright eating food over a campfire?”

“Of course. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d even enjoy assisting in making our meals.”

“And sleeping on the ground in a tent?”

“It can’t be much worse than falling asleep over my work on my desk.”

“It may not be sunny the entire time. You good with shitty weather?”

“So long as I’m with you, I’ll be ok with any weather, temperamental or not.”

A trickle of sweat beaded and fell down the back of Gladio’s neck, from the base of his hairline down into his shirt. God, what he wouldn’t give to go swimming right now . . . if only he had a pair of swim trunks . . .

Or not.

Gladio’s mind went to something a little more mischievous. His eyes drifted out to the ocean, twinkling as he asked, “What about swimming? You think you’d be up for that?”

Ignis’ face twisted in confusion. “I . . . uh . . . yes? I’ve learned to swim, so that should be no issue.”

Who even said they’d need swim trunks — or anything — at all? It wasn’t like anyone was really around. “Yeah? Wanna show me now?”

“Gladio? What are you —.”

Ignis’ words were cut off as Gladio leapt from where they sat, landing with a soft thud . Quickly recovering, he took off toward the water, kicking up sand behind him as he removed his shirt and threw it on the ground behind him. In the distance, he could hear Ignis’ voice calling out to him, pleading with him to wait. Come back. A number of requests and commands that went unacknowledged.

At the water’s edge, he undid his pants and slipped out of them, leaving both those and his boxer briefs on a small rock off to the side. Ignis tried his best to catch up, but it was too late — Gladio had already run into the ocean, getting about waist-high before diving under, disappearing for only a moment.

Once he resurfaced, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Ignis still standing at the shoreline, calling his name again and again with Gladio’s crumpled shirt in his fist. “Gladiolus! What’s gotten into you? What are you doing?!”

Gladio shook his head, water droplets flying from strands of hair. “Research for our future camping trip!” he replied, albeit tongue-in-cheek. “Can’t exactly take you camping if you can’t swim! Now, get in the water!”

“I already told you I know how to swim!”

“Ok, so show me! Come in!”

“But . . . I don’t have my swimwear!”

“Neither do I, obviously!”

“Gladio —”

“For fuck’s sake, Ignis! Just get in the water!” Gladio dropped the joke, resorting to a more direct approach. Despite how warm it had been recently, the water still had a bite to it, a chill that eventually gave way to something more refreshing against Gladio’s bare skin. He swam on his back, drifting further and further from the shore.

Even from here, Gladio could read the nervous energy from Ignis’ mannerisms. “Are you certain we won’t get caught?”

“It’s like . . . two in the morning! Everyone’s asleep!”

“Someone could still find us!”

“Fine, then let them find us!”

Under the moonlight, Ignis’ silhouette deflated slightly. He groaned, looked to his left, then his right, and then glanced over his shoulder behind himself for good measure. He was probably debating how great of an idea this was, weighing his options and the consequences if they were caught nude in the water, before giving in, stripping out of his clothes and folding them in neat squares to place on the rock where Gladio’s clothes were, glasses on top.

Grumbling his dissatisfaction, Ignis slowly waded into the water, sucking in a sharp breath when the shock of the temperature registered with him. He was slow at first, taking his time to adjust to the water, but soon enough he was in, swimming gracefully under the surface and popping up right in front of Gladio. “Are you some sort of exhibitionist?”

With only the moon and the resort as their only source of light, swimming without a stitch of clothing on didn’t seem to bother them. Any other time and maybe they would’ve shied away from the very act, but something about the darkness lowered their inhibitions and bolstered their confidence.

“Hey, I’m not hearing any complaint from you,” Gladio retorted, snaking his arm around Ignis’ lower back and pulling him close. Water dripped from Ignis’ hair, creating rivers down his neck and onto his bare shoulders — bare shoulders peppered with teeny, tiny freckles. Gladio wanted to kiss each and every one of those damned freckles, tallying them one-by-one with his lips until he lost count altogether. Instead, he brought one hand out of the water and traced them with his fingertips, smiling. “In fact, I think you kinda like it.”

“I don’t hate it if that’s what you mean.” Ignis didn’t object, pressing his body into Gladio’s. Skin-on-skin. Warm and inviting. “Besides, what was I supposed to do? Sit in the sand until you swam back to shore? That absolutely defeats the purpose of spending time together.”

“It’s ok, Iggy. Just admit it — you would rather swim naked with your super hot boyfriend than sit alone on the beach. We all know it’s too good an opportunity to pass up, so I honestly can’t blame you.”

Ignis feigned his exasperation, scoffing at the accusation with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how utterly ridiculous you are?”

“Says the guy who has yet to deny that what I just said is true.” Gladio punctuated his sentence with a single wink and a chuckle — an act that did not go unnoticed by Ignis.

Unexpectedly and without warning, Ignis wriggled from Gladio’s hold on him and brought a hand back, splashing water toward Gladio and laughing. It didn’t drench him by any means, but it certainly caught him off guard. When he regained his senses, he retaliated by throwing a wave of water in Ignis’ direction, satisfied as he barely brought his arms up for protection.

“Gladio!” Ignis scolded in jest.

“Hey, you started it!”

Ignis surged forward, ready to put all his weight on Gladio’s shoulders. “And I’ll end it,” he warned before dunking Gladio underwater, his laughter above the surface muffled and distant.

Oh, that’s how he wanted to play.

Gladio grabbed Ignis’ ankle and yanked him down, surprise in Ignis’ yelp before he was completely submerged alongside Gladio. They kicked up for air at the same time, gasping for breath while on the lookout for each other.

It was Ignis that caught sight of Gladio first, quick to throw more water in his direction. Right as Gladio reciprocated, Ignis was gone, swimming underwater just to pull Gladio under with him again. They each got in several good splashes and dunks, laughing when the water would hit the other square in the face. Much like every other competition they’d had before, they were about evenly matched against each other.

Their shrieks grew louder and their splashing intensified until fatigue settled in their muscles. Eventually, the water became too heavy to throw and their laughter faded to breathless giggles, their movements torpid and slow.

Ignis swam the short distance they’d created between each other into Gladio’s arms, looping his arms up and over his shoulders. “Call it a draw?”

“No way,” Gladio argued, pulling Ignis in close, pleasantly surprised to feel his arousal pressing into his stomach. With a soft, gentle kiss, Gladio’s lips lingered on Ignis’, hovering as he said, “I think I won.”

One kiss turned into two. Then three, followed by several more, each one tasting of saltwater and adoration. “Maybe you did,” Ignis mumbled into Gladio’s mouth, conceding defeat — a rarity in Ignis’ world. He took Gladio’s bottom lip between his teeth and moved his hips to grind against him, moaning at the contact. “Or, maybe I really won after all.”

Ignis’ hand tickled down Gladio’s neck, his shoulder, and underwater to the point right under his abdomen. Gladio was already hard, but the way Ignis remained there, teasing him, made his arousal all the more painful. “What are you doing?” he groaned between kisses.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Mmmhmm. Who’s the exhibitionist now?”

Ignis stayed close by keeping one arm around Gladio’s shoulder and neck while wrapping a leg loosely around Gladio’s lower body. There was no answer to Gladio’s rhetorical question, but Ignis did trace a finger up the underside of Gladio’s cock. Dammit, he hadn’t expected that as he suddenly shuddered and groaned at the contact.

“Ah, you like that?” Ignis teased, drawing his finger up his length again and smiling.

“Looks like you do too,” Gladio countered, holding Ignis up with one arm as he tugged once on his cock to make a point. Ignis’ moan was like music to Gladio’s ears.

His lips found their way to Gladio’s neck, sucking and biting lightly as he teased Gladio’s balls with his fingertips. Suddenly, it was becoming harder and harder to hold Ignis up as he grew more serious in his endeavors to unravel Gladio.

Gladio swam them further inland until his feet could touch the ocean floor, sand soft under his toes. Here, he could at least stand and not worry about either one of them drowning because he was too busy indulging in Ignis’ touch. They found their way to the rocky cliffside where Gladio’s back made contact with the surface, made smooth by the endlessness of the waves.

Ignis didn’t unwrap his legs from around Gladio. Instead, he used his position to anchor himself, leaning into Gladio and taking him into his hand. Having Ignis’ fingers around his cock was almost the sweet relief he needed, taking the edge off the throbbing pain. “ Shit , Ignis,” he gasped, head thrown back. Ignis stroked in slow, calculated moves, pulling from base to tip.

Dull nails clawed down Ignis’ back, heedless in the marks they’d leave behind.  It was the way he was being watched, the care taken in eliciting the smallest of sounds from him, and the reckless abandon at doing this at all outside where anyone could catch them — with Ignis, no less — that excited Gladio.

Hormones and the sheer desperation of wanting Ignis — needing Ignis — could’ve pushed Gladio over the edge right there, but Ignis seemed to know better than to drag him over just yet. He backed off, the pressure of his grip lighter, and went back to focusing his attention on Gladio’s neck and shoulders.

Teeth grazed over skin while kisses soothed the pleasurable pain. Gladio found himself guiding Ignis’ head with his own, nudging so he could kiss his sharp jawline up to his earlobe, nibbling enough so it was Ignis’ turn to make some noise. “You can’t have all the fun,” Gladio whispered directly in his ear, either the words or the breath on sensitive skin causing goosebumps to race up and down Ignis’ arms and back.

“Who says?”

Ignis hoisted himself slightly higher, his cock brushing against Gladio’s as he captured his lips in an awkward mess of a kiss. Their hunger for each other was damn near palpable, an electric current between them that neither one could deny. Their movements were frantic, lacking any sort of coordination — a fervor neither could’ve anticipated.

Ignis easily maneuvered his hand between them, both cocks firmly in his grasp. The warmth of Ignis against him, rubbing and grinding at an insufferable pace, brought Gladio right back to where he was before. He teetered the fine line between staying here in sweet ecstasy and falling into the blissed-out afterglow of his inevitable orgasm.

Their grinding against each other made for choppy waters in the immediate vicinity, splashing up and hitting them in the face and neck. Every so often, Gladio felt the scrape of the rocks behind him, digging painfully into his back, but he was too captivated to care.

It wasn’t much longer before the rubber band in his stomach wound tighter and tighter until it snapped. Gladio melted into the water and rocks against his back, his moans echoing into the ocean and the starry sky. Things became foggy, almost dreamlike, but Ignis remained crystal clear amidst the haze. Gladio tried hard to hold on through the pleasure, his nails creating crescent-shaped marks in Ignis’ shoulder and arm, only letting go when he regained his sense of control, returning to his body one heartbeat at a time.

It only took Ignis another second more to tumble after him, his own body tense and hard against Gladio. He doubled over, pressing his forehead into the crook between Gladio’s neck and shoulder until he relaxed, boneless and spent. His breaths — short, labored puffs of air —  were hot against Gladio’s skin. Even if Gladio couldn’t see Ignis’ face, he could certainly feel the weak smile on his lips — a contagious smile that spread to Gladio’s own lips as well. He lightly trailed his fingers up and down Ignis’ back, Ignis doing the same in return as his cheek rested wearily on Gladio’s shoulder.

Though they were still a couple of hours away from sunrise, Gladio knew they’d need to head back to Insomnia soon. They would both be in serious trouble if their parents realized they weren’t in their respective rooms at this hour.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio said, poking Ignis in the side with his finger. “Think we should dry off and head back to the car?”

“Mmmmmm,” Ignis responded, his head and body barely moving against Gladio’s figure. For a second, he thought maybe Ignis had fallen asleep, but then he stirred and pushed against the slippery rock behind them, his movements lagging behind his thoughts. “We probably should. It’s getting late.”

Gladio chuckled. “Or early, if you want to look at it that way.”

With one more kiss under the stars, they made their way back to the shoreline to get dressed, retrieved their shoes from back on the haven, and made the long walk along the beach back to Gladio’s car.

Gladio dropped Ignis off at home at the break of dawn, leaning across the console for one final kiss. He waited until Ignis cautiously opened the door and crept inside, giving him one more smile before he closed the door behind him. They would see each other soon, but somehow it was never enough. It would never be enough.

As he pulled into his own driveway, Gladio wondered the best way to sneak inside. He turned off the engine of his car, shoving his keys deep in his jean pockets so they wouldn’t jingle as he walked along the path to the backyard, making an entrance through the kitchen door in the back of the house.

Gladio thought he was stealthy, tiptoeing and closing doors as quiet as he could. The kitchen was empty. Not even a pot of coffee had been made yet. That was a good sign that maybe Clarus hadn’t come out from his room yet for the day.

As he walked through the kitchen and down the hall, he’d almost breezed by an open door when the clearing of a throat startled him. Gladio jumped and whirled around to face the person who’d caught him. “Shiva’s ti — Dad!”

With Clarus’ back to him and the doorway, his head angled up as he viewed a large painting hanging high above the mantle of the fireplace, Gladio couldn’t properly gauge his mood. Why on Eos was he down here? What was he doing in a room other than his office or his bedroom? Had something happened? So many questions swirled in Gladio’s brain before he stopped and recognized just what room his father was standing in.

Paintings hanging along the walls.

A half-finished canvas still on an easel in the corner.

Art supplies here and there.

It was his mother’s art room.

The room everyone was forbidden to enter.

Gladio couldn’t move. It was as if his feet were cemented to the floor, his blood like ice. The problem here was two-fold: why was his father in here, and how furious was he with Gladio for sneaking in?

Like an unspoken request from Clarus to enter, Gladio forced himself to take a few steps into the room, quietly marveling how tidy and organized everything looked. There were no cobwebs, no blankets of dust, and no smell like the damn place hadn’t been aired out in years. To say Gladio was confused was the understatement of the century.

“I saw your car pulling in.” Clarus looked at his watch, then finally turned to Gladio. “It’s a bit late to be sneaking through the house, don’t you think? Where were you?”

Gladio shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, flustered. “I . . . er, Ignis and I . . . you know, my project partner? We wanted to hang out a bit longer and I . . . we went to Galdin. We weren’t drinking or anything!” he hastily added, pulling his hands from his pockets and holding them up in a surrender-esque position. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time but . . . it’s not a school night and Iris was dead asleep, so I thought it would be ok.”

“Mmmm . . .” There was nothing for Gladio to go off of. His father’s expression was still just as blank as it was the minute Gladio was alerted to his presence. The grandfather clock in the other room chimed the top of the hour — the only noise in an otherwise silent house.

“Dad . . . I’m . . . I’m sorry. It really was just a night out and I promise we weren’t drinking or being reckless. We weren’t ready to say goodbye and I won’t do it again and . . . gods, could you please say something?”

There was nothing for a long time. Clarus seemed to study Gladio, considering his explanation with great scrutiny. Finally, he nodded, slowly bringing his gaze to the room they stood in as he sighed and placed his hands behind his back. “You have a curfew, Gladiolus — even on weekends, I have asked that you abide by this. That being said . . . I’ve noticed a change in your behavior these weeks. A change for the better, and one that should not go without acknowledgment. If you are to be out this late again, all I ask is that you let me know where you’ll be and when you’ll be home, understand?”

Gladio frowned. He had expected a full dressing-down, another blow-out fight to add to their growing list of reasons why their relationship was strained. After all, when they weren’t fighting, they were eyeing each other in tense silence. That’s why it was so odd to him that his father wasn’t mad. Worried, yeah, but not mad.

“Uh . . . yes, sir,” Gladio carefully answered, his words drawn out with uncertainty. “Sorry, I just assumed you’d be sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll make sure to leave a note or text if I’m out late again. I really didn’t mean to make you worry.”

That seemed to be it. Clarus continued to flick his eyes around the room, occasionally pausing on Gladio, regarding him with . . . what? There was something behind his expression, but Gladio couldn’t make it out. Well . . . if that was it, Gladio thought, he should probably head upstairs. Shrugging one shoulder, Gladio started to turn and walk away, but Clarus’ next words stopped him in his tracks. “This Ignis boy . . . he’s made you quite happy these days, hasn’t he?”

This morning was just full of surprises. Gladio turned back to look at his father, really looking at him for what felt like the first time in years, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, his heart bursting as he thought of Ignis and the last few weeks with him. “Yeah, he has.”

“I’m glad. It's been a long while since I’ve seen a smile on your face.” Clarus nodded his head to a framed family photo to Gladio’s right. It was the four of them laughing at the camera, both Clarus and Dahlia with their arms around Gladio and Iris. All the air left his lungs as he approached the picture, remembering the exact day the photo was taken — just a few short months before the accident.

Clarus’ voice was much softer than it had been moments ago. “I come in here sometimes and it’s like she never really . . .” He stopped before his emotions could get the better of him, bowing his head to hide his face. When he composed himself, he looked Gladio in the eyes and continued. “You have her smile, you know. I’ve missed seeing it.”

Gladio swiped at the corner of his eyes, the tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what else to say, not wanting to burst the magic of this one good interaction between them in as long as he could remember. Instead, he jabbed a thumb back at the doorway, eyes glassy and a painful lump lodged deep in his throat. “Yeah . . . uh . . . I’m gonna head to my room . . . if that’s ok. I just want to take a quick nap before taking care of Iris today.”

Clarus held a hand up. “No need. I have some last minute work to finish, so I thought she’d enjoy a trip to the Citadel for the morning, along with some lunch and ice cream afterward. You know how much she adores Prince Noctis and the Royal Family,” he chuckled.

Gladio’s jaw dropped. Was this some sort of messed up joke? Or, was Clarus serious about taking Iris for the day? “I . . . I didn’t mean for you to take responsibility for her . . . I promise I’ve got her if you —”

“Absolutely not,” Clarus cut in once more.. “Go get some rest. She’s been excited about this since I mentioned it to her. You won’t be a teenager forever, son.”

He gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water. Gladio wanted to question it, wanted to make sure that everything truly was alright, but it looked like Clarus was firm on this matter. “Yeah . . . alright. Sure . . . I’ll go take a nap, then.”

“Sleep well,” Clarus bade with a nod and a smile.

When Gladio got to his bedroom, before he could fall face first into the pillows on his bed, his phone vibrated once from his back pocket. A text message.

Gladio pulled his phone out and, immediately, the room began to spin.

Luche (7:09 a.m.) - are you at galdin?

 

Ok, stay calm. It's nothing. It's just a coincidence. This means nothing.

Gladio waited until his heart stopped pounding before responding. Something simple, denying everything. Of course, he wasn't at Galdin. Why would he be there? That's crazy. No way. 

Gladio (7:10 a.m.) - no? i got the kid sister with me this weekend so im stuck at home.

 

Gladio (7:10 a.m.) - why?

There was that unsettling feeling the longer Luche took to respond. Why — of all times, of all places — would he text Gladio to ask about his whereabouts? That stupid, three-dotted reply bubble appeared, then disappeared. Appeared, then disappeared. Finally, Gladio got his response.

Luche (7:12 a.m.) - no reason. just wondering.

It was a very odd thing to wonder about, but Gladio didn't get to press further because another text came through. One he didn't know he'd been looking forward to until now.

Ignis (7:12 a.m.) - I hope you arrived home safely. I told my parents I had a late night of tutoring His Highness and they frowned, but that’s it.

Ignis (7:13 a.m.) - I can’t get you off my mind. Last night was perfect.

Beaming, Gladio sent his reply and promptly fell asleep, only waking up later that afternoon when Iris came barreling in his room, jumping on the bed and rambling about her day.

But, in the back of his mind, Luche's text continued to nag him. As much as Gladio wanted to brush the whole thing off, he knew he couldn't. His intuition flashed warning after warning, a red-alert that Luche knew something more than he was letting on.

Chapter Text

Did that text from Luche even happen?

The question flittered through Gladio’s mind more often than not. Things were the same as they had been when he got to school on Monday. And Tuesday. And Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. And the next week. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe the text never happened and Gladio imagined the whole thing.

Except, it did. Gladio would open his messaging app several times a day, confirming he wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t hallucinating. The same text sat on his phone, still as unnerving and daunting as the minute Gladio received it. Thinking of it sent a chill down his spine and bile up his throat. What did Luche know? When would he pounce? How would he expose Gladio as the fraud he was?

He would try to calm himself down by playing back every lunch hour with his friends, every one-off text he received in their almost defunct group chat, only to breathe a sigh of relief that nothing had changed. Seriously, nothing changed. Nothing. Luche joked around like he always did — that smarmy, arrogant sense of humor that wasn’t really funny but Gladio half-chuckled anyway to save face — and all his friends treated him exactly the same.

Maybe it was all a crazy, strange coincidence?

It was all in his head. This was paranoia at its finest.

Except it wasn’t.

One particularly sunny day after school, as Gladio waited on the side of the building for Ignis, car idling before they set off to pick up Iris from her dance lessons, that panic came back like a dark cloud overhead, insisting that something was wrong. Something bad was happening — or would happen. Nothing was missing on his person, all his schoolwork was caught up . . . so what was with the sudden feeling of foreboding?

As Ignis approached the car and sunk into the passenger seat, Gladio’s dread worsened. He tried to lean over the center console and give him a kiss on the cheek, like he always did, but Ignis remained rigid, face pale. There was no smile, no chatter, no anything. He stared straight ahead out the windshield, his breathing even. In and out. In and out. “Hey Iggy . . . something wrong?”

With a face pinched tight, like he had sucked all the sour out of a candy, Ignis slowly turned his head, eyes narrowed as he focused on Gladio.  “Your friend, Luche,” he began in a low rumble. “Has he ever come to you regarding his future after graduation?”

What an awfully random thing to ask, but Ignis was asking for a reason. Gladio thought back through all their conversations, all their drunken ramblings, and their span of their time as ‘friends’ before finally coming up empty. Things were superficial between them to say the least. Always had been. “Uh . . . well, I mean . . . it’s not like we gossip on the phone over our plans or anything. He’s never really said where he’s going, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ahh, I see . . .” Ignis didn’t seem satisfied with this answer. He tapped his fingers nervously on the canvas of the bag still in his lap and took a deep breath. “Were you aware he applied to join the Kingsglaive?”

“Um . . . I . . . don’t think so? Maybe?” The longer Ignis drug this on, the tighter Gladio’s stomach knotted. He couldn’t help it, but he snapped. “What are you getting at?”

“I-I’m sorry . . . I should . . .” With a sigh, Ignis shook his head and attempted to explain. He clenched his hands into tight fists, fingers white with pressure. “I didn’t say anything before because I assumed it wasn’t an issue — and perhaps I’m delusional for thinking this has anything to do with me. Us. But I bumped into Luche in the Citadel halls a few evenings ago. At the time, I thought nothing of it and pushed it out of my mind, but today he cornered me and asked about my role amongst the Royal Family. Of course, I managed to evade that portion of his inquisition, for both His Highness’ privacy and my own, but Luche wasn’t deterred. He attempted to bribe me —”

“Threaten you?”

“Semantics. As I was saying, he started off with his application to the Kingsglaive and how he’d envisioned his future for quite some time now. He attempted to sweet-talk his way into the Kingsglaive through me, possibly thinking I have some sort of say in who is accepted and who gets denied. I don’t, mind you, but he doesn’t know that. I assume that just seeing me as he was leaving the Citadel gave him the impression that I could pull some strings.”

Suddenly, Gladio’s intuition gave him the sinking feeling that Luche’s text and his run-in with Ignis were related. They had to be. A random text that placed him at Galdin? Coming to Ignis for a favor? This was all aligned too well to be anything but coincidental.

With his thoughts muddled and a burning ache deep in his chest, Gladio fumbled through his words and waved his hand in the air, almost like he was flicking away the impending sense of dread. “N-no way. It’s nothing. Luche is all talk and no action,” he excused. “I highly doubt he’s going to do anything to you . . . would do anything to you.”

The sardonic laugh that came from Ignis shot a chill straight down Gladio’s spine. “May I remind you of the party you invited me to at the beginning of the year? A culmination of events that led to me at the bottom of a swimming pool and shattered eyewear? He may be intimidated by you, but he seems to think he has something on me. Honestly, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me. I’m not exactly afraid of him, but I have a hunch he . . .” Ignis shook his head and laughed again. “No, impossible. I’m being ridiculous. You’re right, this is all nothing.”

Or was it?

As much as Gladio wanted to believe it was nothing, that they were feeding off each other’s nervous energy, he couldn’t rid the idea from his head that this was something. Instead of worrying Ignis with all of this, however, he decided to keep those thoughts, the text message after Galdin, all of it, to himself.

If this was nothing, then there was no need to alarm Ignis with what he knew.

And if it was anything at all . . . well, then they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

With a kiss to the back of Ignis’ hand and a reassuring, albeit wavering, smile, Gladio drove through the streets of Insomnia to Iris’ dance studio.

“You know the drill, kiddo,” Gladio called out as Iris bounded up the stairs to her room. “No tablet or internet until your homework is done!”

“Ooookkkkk!” Iris responded, pitch fluctuating.

“And have Jared check it, too!”

“Ok, ok! I know! Sheesh!”

Both Ignis and Gladio chuckled after Iris closed her bedroom door, making their way into the kitchen for a glass of water before they started their own work. “Hey Jared, we’re home! Grabbing something to drink before we head upstairs!” Gladio called while picking out two glasses from the cabinet, handing one off to Ignis.

Silence. A silence that quickly piqued Gladio’s attention.

Odd. Jared was usually pretty quick to respond, no matter where he was in the house. It wasn’t like him to not at least give a heads up to his location or what he was doing. The only noise that could be heard was the faint sound of Iris’ radio playing a classical song, perfect for studying. Other than that? Nothing.

Gladio put his empty glass on the counter and walked closer to the hallway adjacent to the kitchen. “Jared? You ok?”

“Uh, Gladio?”

Gladio turned to Ignis’ questioning voice, finding a piece of paper between his thumb and pointer fingers, held out for Gladio to read. Concerned and unsure as to who the note could be from, Gladio took two steps forward and plucked the paper his fingers, eyes darting back and forth and lips forming a grim line.

Apologies, Master Gladiolus. I’ve come down with the same stomach virus that my grandson seemed to have picked up from his school. I hate the predicament I’m sure I’ve put you in, but I do hope you understand. Give my regards to your father.

 

-Jared

“Son of a bitch ,” Gladio muttered, crumpling the paper in his hand. He wasn’t angry at Jared, but it wasn’t exactly the most ideal situation. It wasn’t the first time — and certainly wouldn’t be the last time — that he’d have to rearrange his plans in order to take care of Iris, but it still sucked when it happened.

“Gladio? What’s wrong?” Ignis quietly asked.

“Jared’s out tonight,” Gladio mumbled, moving to dispose the note in the trash bin while heaving a disgruntled sigh, “which means I need to get dinner going for us.”

“Oh . . . oh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s ok,” Gladio grinned, sarcasm dripping from his words and his smile. “Just another night in the Amicitia household.”

Just as he began to formulate what to cook, Ignis interrupted him. “If you need help with dinner, might I be able to assist?”

Gladio cocked his head, squinting his eyes as he asked, “Uh . . . why would you want to do that? You’re my guest.”

Ignis shrugged. “I’ve told you before; I like cooking. His Highness is quite the picky eater, so I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting dishes he’d surely eat — ones that even His Majesty would be amenable to. I assure you, it’s something I want to do.”

Gladio side-eyed him, not exactly believing the words coming from his mouth. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do. Besides, you always promised that I’d get to cook in this kitchen.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “At least grant me that.”

Gladio still wasn’t convinced. He continued to eye Ignis with a wayward gaze, wondering if he would change his mind. This had to be a joke of some sort. However, when he held his stance after several seconds — minutes, rather — Gladio had to concede. “Fine,” he acknowledged, throwing his hands in the air as if he were annoyed. “Fine, whatever. I won’t stop you.” Then, Gladio’s eyes surveyed the kitchen as if it were he  who was cooking dinner. As if it were he who needed to get the necessary tools and ingredients for a proper meal. “What exactly do you have in mind?

Ignis began rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve been told I make a delectable breakfast, if I do say so myself.”

“Breakfast? You do realize it’s like . . . 6:00 p.m., right?”

Ignis was already moving about the kitchen as if he owned the place. Not surprising in the least, seeing as he’d been at Gladio’s house far more times than he could count. “Have you never had brinner? Breakfast for dinner? Surely weren’t  deprived of that growing up.”

“Have I never had brinner? You do realize Iris is the biggest fan of breakfast for dinner, right? We’ve had it many times in our life, thankyouverymuch,” Gladio harrumphed, hip resting against the counter as he watched Ignis gather what he needed: eggs, breakfast sausage, flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, bacon, fresh fruit that Jared had bought the day before, chocolate chips for the pancakes (with Iris in mind, of course), and some maple syrup. “I just never thought you were a fan of brinner. You seem like the type to —”

“Eschew the occasional night of eating a well balanced dinner? Perhaps you need to learn more about me for your end of our report, Gladiolus Amicitia,” Ignis chided mockingly, clicking his tongue to his teeth. With everything on the counter and a sly wink, Ignis looked at Gladio and said, “I hope you’re ready for the best meal you’ve ever had.”

Gladio tried to keep up, measuring ingredients out and manning the stove when Ignis stepped away, but he found he was more enamored with the way Ignis seemed to make himself at home — or, rather, the way he was at home. Ignis would ask Gladio to pass him this and stir that. At one point, Gladio turned to Ignis as he was called to, only to get a dab of pancake batter booped right on the tip of his nose. Little things like that — the way Ignis let his guard down — took Gladio by surprise. The way he hummed quietly to himself, the way he watched his food cooking through half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, and the way he chatted while making yet another batch of golden-brown pancakes caused Gladio to fall deeper and deeper in . . .

“Gladiolus? Iris? Are you home?” A deep voice called out.

Shit.

His father was home.

Unexpectedly at that.

Gladio jumped, startled by the slamming of the front door. Ignis also jolted, eyes wide with his spatula perched over a hot pan of eggs. Neither one moved, unsure what to do next. Normally, Clarus would’ve slumped to his study, closing himself off for the night, but tonight he didn't. Instead, Gladio stilled as his father’s footsteps approached, rounding the corner from the hallway into the kitchen, a life about him that Gladio hadn’t seen in so long.

He seemed . . . well . . . happy and calm.

Clarus stopped. He went from joyful, to confused, then finally recognition upon seeing his son standing there with an unknown friend. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he apologized, placing his briefcase atop the granite countertop of the bar. “I had no idea we were having company this evening. I received Jared’s text message earlier this afternoon, so I rushed home as quick as I could. I assumed dinner would need to be started, but I see I’m too late in that department. Now . . . who is this fine young gentleman, Gladiolus?”

By now, Ignis had placed the spatula off to the side and moved to stand beside Gladio. Gladio still didn’t know which way things would go for him and Clarus today, but it seemed like it was getting off to a good start. “Yeah . . . uh, this is Ignis, my . . . uh . . . school project partner. Ignis, this is my dad.”

On cue, Ignis extended his hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All horrible things, I’m sure,” Clarus laughed, returning the firm handshake. Then, he squinted, hemming and hawing as he eyed Ignis carefully. “You . . . you look oddly familiar though . . . have we met before?”

Ignis’ face blanched as he fumbled for words, at a loss when it came to explaining who he was. “We . . . ah . . . I . . . you . . .”

Gladio decided to step in, resting a heavy arm along Ignis’ shoulders while beaming with pride. “Ignis has been His Highness’ caretaker for the last couple of years. You’ve probably seen him in the halls of the Citadel . . . and maybe a few meetings here and there.”

Recognition flashed across Clarus’ face, his smile growing. “I wondered why you looked so familiar. Ignis Scientia,” he repeated the name, softer this time, “your reputation around the Citadel is one for the books. Regis thinks highly of you and the way you care for his son. Brilliant, reliable, and a damn great caretaker to the prince himself. From what I’ve heard, you’ll make a great advisor down the road.”

Gladio loved when Ignis got all bashful like this, his cheeks flushed a hint of strawberry pink all the way to the tips of his ears, eyes downcast on the ground as his fingers fumbled behind his back. Goddamn, it was cute. “I appreciate that very much, sir. I take great pride in being able to assist Noctis and the Royal Family, however they may need me. Noctis has become like a brother to me over these years.”

“Yes, indeed . . . I’ve also heard he can be quite the handful, so I’m sure it’s very appreciated that you are able to give the prince exactly what he needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Waving his hand, Clarus chuckled as he spoke. “Please, you don’t need to address me with ‘sir’. No formalities are necessary here.” The conversation lulled before Clarus sniffed the air, his eyelids drooping slightly. “What are you making for dinner? It smells wonderful !”

Gladio looked at Ignis and then back at his father. “Ignis is making us breakfast for dinner.”

At that, Ignis interjected. “There’ll be more than enough to go around if you’d like to sit down with us.”

“Well . . . only if you have enough to go around. I wouldn’t want to take any food that was meant to feed yourself and my children.”

“Not at all!” Ignis reassured. “In fact, I’m sure there will be plenty for the next couple of days — should you want leftovers for lunch or dinner.”

Clarus never had meals with his children anymore. Gladio waited for the inevitable, ‘No’ they were sure to hear, completely and totally caught off guard when he heard quite the opposite. “I would be delighted to eat with you all. It’s been so long since I’ve had a home cooked meal, let alone something that isn’t reheated in the microwave. Are you almost ready? Should I call Iris down?”

“Yes! Perfect timing, actually. The eggs are just about finished. I’ll have everything on the table shortly.”

Clarus nodded once. “Excellent. I’ll go see if she’s finished her schoolwork and bring her down.”

After Clarus left the kitchen, Gladio remained where he stood, afraid to move or breathe. “Nervous?” Ignis asked, removing the eggs from the stove and plating them in a serving dish.

With no emotion to his voice, Gladio mumbled, “You have no idea.”

Ignis breezed by, pausing for a brief moment to say, “Everything will be just fine. He’s your father, Gladio. This is only the start to mending your relationship.”

Then, he walked away to begin putting the food onto the dining room table, leaving Gladio alone to ponder what was to come, drumming his fingers on the counter and rubbing the back of his neck until the skin burned under his hand. Chewing on his lower lip to near bleeding, he tore himself from his spot in the kitchen and grabbed a glass pitcher of orange juice to follow after Ignis.

The chatter was light at first. Ignis and Clarus spoke of their time with the Royal Family, laughing at how similar His Highness and His Majesty really were. Iris went on and on about her recent piano recital, asking Ignis again and again if he could sit with her soon so they could play a piece she’d been learning for her next performance. There was giggling, squealing, and a happiness the halls of the Amicitia manor hadn’t heard in quite some time.

Throughout all of it, Gladio sat back and observed. He watched his father’s eyes as his smile reached them, the wrinkles of his face from his laughter and not from stress. He watched Iris wriggle in her seat, sitting on her knees and her upper body leaned over the table so she could be the center of attention. He watched Ignis sit politely, eating small bites and answering questions only after he swallowed his food. Whenever Clarus wasn’t looking, Ignis would somehow manage to sneak his hand under the table to squeeze Gladio’s knee in quiet support — a gesture that Gladio was beyond thankful for.

After dinner, once plates were cleared and Iris had excused herself, the three men spoke more over some coffee that Clarus brewed. “So, tell me again how you both know each other? You mentioned the senior project?”

“Mmmhmm,” Gladio answered, a hum through pursed lips. “This year we had to write about the person we’d randomly been paired up with. Stuff like who they are, what they’re doing after graduation, their families, friends —”

Clarus chuckled as he brought his mug up to take a drink, cutting Gladio off. “And how did that go?” he asked, motioning his mug in Ignis’ general direction.

“Huh?” Both Gladio and Ignis were perplexed by Clarus’ question. What Gladio wanted to say was that things were going alright, that the report was coming along well, but he knew that’s not what Clarus meant.

Clearing his throat, Clarus took a sip of his drink and said, “Surely Ignis has seen how . . . influential your peers can be. I can’t deny that I haven’t noticed a change in your behavior lately and I can only assume that Ignis’ guiding presence has been the main cause in all that, hm?”

He tried to tell himself that his father meant well, but Gladio found himself already growing defensive. “What does that mean?” he questioned, a bite to his words and his tone.

“It’s just an observation, Gladiolus. No late nights, no drunken brawls, no empty bottles appearing in our garbage —”

“So, what? You’re saying I’m a bad kid?”

Clarus’ surprise was crystal clear, written all over his face. Gone was the jovial atmosphere, replaced with something more strained. “All I’m saying is you’ve done a complete 180 this year. Having someone new in your life to keep you on the straight and narrow has done wonders for your behavior.”

Gladio’s heart wrenched in his chest. He knew the relationship he had with his father was complicated and filled with hurdles that could only overcome with time, but it still fucking hurt to hear that he needed someone to change him. He needed to be better. He needed to stay on the straight and narrow .

I’m not a bad kid, Dad. I’m so much more than my friends and what you think of me. Have I ruined your view of me forever? Did I fuck up that much?

This could’ve gone one of two ways — either they’d fall right back into their old routine of resorting to a screaming match and completely ruin the evening, or they’d suffer in miserable silence until Ignis announced his departure and asked to be brought home immediately .  

But none of those happened. Instead, Ignis folded his napkin into quarters and placed it back in his lap, choosing his next words carefully. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and looked at Clarus with nothing but total sincerity in his eyes and his voice. “With all due respect, I don’t believe Gladio needs a good influence.” Gladio’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for Ignis’ next words. “From what I’ve seen since the day we were paired together, Gladiolus has always been a determined and kind individual, despite all he’s been through. I see the way he stays focused on his studies and the books he loses himself in. He manages to do all of this, all while caring for Iris as well. Gladiolus may have had a rough go for a while, but he’s the best person I’ve ever had the opportunity to know.” A subtle smirk was thrown in Gladio’s direction, followed up by a tiny nod. “Gladiolus has done just fine on his own without any input from myself or others.”

All Gladio could do was blink, responses and replies vanishing as he mulled over Ignis’ words. In the quiet that followed shortly after, he kept coming back to one thought. One word that summed up everything he felt about this.

Gladio had a penchant for reading. He always had. He loved history and fiction and sci-fi and biographies and poetry and anything he could get his hands on. Gladio also loved to read romance novels — a guilty pleasure, maybe, but they were, and had always been to him, so damn fascinating. It was something about the slowburn and the pining and the passion between the characters and the love in them that sparked the flame of hope in his heart. Call it the hopeless romantic in him, but Gladio always wanted something like that for himself.

Somewhere along the way, someone turned the contrast and the brightness up in Gladio’s world and this relationship was perfection. It was having someone on his side, no matter the circumstances. It was, for the first time, feeling like anything was possible. Achievable. Within reach. It was sitting at dinner with his own father after having just met, and proudly stating he believed in him.

Was this what all those books were about? Was this what Gladio read about?

Was this . . . love ?

Clarus nodded his head, reconsidering the implications of his question. “My son is lucky to have someone like you, Ignis.”

When Ignis looked at Gladio, it was like his emerald eyes pierced right into his soul. He was ready to say something, his eyes widening a fraction of a bit as he gulped. Then, like magic, it was all gone. The intensity and the fire were wiped from Ignis’ eyes as they fell back into their normal, cat-like stare.

Whatever it was, whatever he was going to say, pushing it to the back of his mind didn’t take away from the happiness he held in his facial expression. Under the table, out of Clarus’ sight, Ignis reached for Gladio’s hand and tangled his fingers in his. “I believe I’m the lucky one.”

And that was it.

That’s when Gladio knew .

After dinner was done and dishes were cleaned, Clarus bade farewell to Ignis and retreated to his bedroom for some well deserved sleep, only after tucking Iris in goodnight. Gladio and Ignis stayed in the kitchen for one small extra cup of coffee each, voices barely above a whisper as they talked about everything and nothing. Ten o’clock came and Ignis flicked his wrist, gasping at the time on his watch. Despite not getting any homework completed, it felt like they’d accomplished so much that evening, both in their personal lives and with each other. Together, they reluctantly made their way to the front foyer where Ignis grabbed his bag, grinning. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for allowing me to stay and meet your father.”

“Pfsh, stay? You were in the middle of making dinner! I couldn’t ask you to leave!”

Ignis chuckled and pulled his phone out from his pocket, flicking his thumb this way and that over the screen, looking for a particular application. “Mmmhmm. I suppose that’s a legitimate reason to keep me around this evening.”

With the lack of any light in the entryway, the glow of the phone lit up Ignis’ face and allowed Gladio to examine the very features he’d studied for months and months on end. It was now or never. “Ignis?”

“Hm?”

Gladio danced from one foot to the other before clearing his throat. “Don’t go.”

Smile faltering, Ignis looked up from the phone, concerned. “Is something the matter?”

Reaching out, Gladio’s hand rested gently on Ignis’ forearm, begging him without words. Pleading with a touch. “Stay with me tonight. I . . . I want you to stay.”

Call it a cliche, but Gladio always joked that time wasn’t linear. It was slow at the worst of times and fast at the best. However, looking at Ignis as he stared back at him, he swore on his dying breath that time literally stopped. The world outside the Amicitia household was still spinning, carrying on with or without them, like it was just another ordinary day. Another typical night.

But not for Gladio. Not for Ignis.

Who knew that an otherwise mundane request could hold so much weight? Who knew it had the ability to freeze the clock, alter someone’s breathing, or cause a somewhat out-of-body experience? Such a simple request that would ultimately make or break what they had.

“Ok,” Ignis whispered, nearly choking on his response. “I’ll stay.”

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

“Most importantly, you have to be protected, alright? I know you know all the mechanics and shit, but you’re a good guy, Amicitia. It’s not just staying protected physically. You better make sure your head, your heart, and your dick are all in agreement if — and when — you get to that point, ok?”

Nyx’s advice rang crystal clear in Gladio’s head, echoing like an incessant reminder over and over as his back hit the mattress, carefully pulling Ignis on top of him. Back when Gladio reached out to Nyx for whatever advice he could offer, Nyx immediately called and answered any and all questions that Gladio had for him. Amidst static and the call frequently dropping, Nyx told Gladio what to do, how things would potentially feel, and when to know when the time was right to take that next step. Throughout it all, Gladio had hoped , somewhere in the back of his mind, that it would be Ignis he’d experienced this with.

That was weeks ago. Truth be told, Gladio wanted to make sure his head was in the right place before really committing to giving his heart away in that regard. Sure, it would’ve been easy to say ‘fuck it’ and give in to carnal desires when they were alone in the heat of the moment, and Astrals knew how many opportunities they had before now, but the time was never right. He didn’t want to regret a single second of his first time.

Call him idealistic and silly, but the romantic in him wanted things to be nothing short of perfect. 

Even though they’d gotten this far countless of times, kissed and undressed each other and left marks in places that would make their parents blush, something about Ignis on top, straddling him like this, was overwhelming. So much so, in fact, that Gladio had to force himself to breathe — in through his nose, out through his mouth —  in order to stay present in the moment, dangerously close to hyperventilating.

Fuck, if Gladio’s friends and schoolmates found out that he wasn’t actually the flirtatious, charismatic guy he pretended to be, that he was borderline inexperienced in the sex department compared to the rest of them and that he hid his anxiety and nerves with bravado and machismo, they’d have a fucking field day. He could imagine the shit talking and teasing he’d receive, the sneering and the gossiping. Oh gods, the whispering and the ridicule and the — 

Stop it, Gladio. Stop thinking of that. You have Ignis and that’s all that matters, ok? What everyone else thinks means jack shit, so stop freaking out. You’re gonna be ok. Just remember Nyx’s advice and this will go smoothly.

He couldn’t afford to blow it on a case of nerves. Nope, not now. 

During a kiss so soft and almost questioning, Gladio could still taste the bitter tang of their after-dinner coffee on Ignis’ tongue. It was then he realized that he wasn’t the only one in a mild panic mode. He could sense the hesitancy on Ignis’ part in the way he kissed, like his mind was overdrive and not all there, already thinking several steps ahead. 

Come to think of it . . . what was he thinking? Was he wondering if this was all ok? Was he worried about what everyone else would think and say the same way that Gladio worried (why was that even a thought? It wasn’t like they were gonna go to school on Monday to tell anyone and everyone who would listen)? Was he terrified of fucking it all up somehow?

Funny — for someone who prided themselves on how put-together they always were, how they could mask any emotion with ease (“No one within the Citadel would dare take a mere high schooler seriously if they didn’t act beyond their years. How can I expect the king himself to grant me the opportunity to be the advisor to his son if I can’t conduct myself accordingly?”), Ignis sure as hell couldn’t hide his apprehension as well as he said he could, especially from Gladio, no matter how hard he tried.

Somewhere though, in between the kissing and the nervous giggling in Gladio’s dim, moonlit bedroom, that fear waned into something more comfortable. Yes, this was new and it was terrifying, but this was Ignis. He wouldn’t hold anything against Gladio, no matter what it was. 

Gladio tugged at Ignis’ shirt, untucking it from the beltline of his pants, before moving his fingers to the buttons down the front, popping them open one by one. It was a testimony to his self-control that he didn’t just rip the damn shirt open and take his undershirt off like he wanted to, impatient to get his hands on the bare skin of Ignis’ chest. On the other hand, each additional second that Gladio took only made Ignis that much more restless, noticeably so as he began to kiss and bite at Gladio’s earlobe, eliciting a low rumble of a growl from him.

“You’re taking . . . too . . . long,” Ignis purred.

“Mmm . . . but you doing . . . that?” Gladio sucked in his lower lip between his teeth. “Feels really fucking good.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours — but was definitely more like minutes — Gladio divested Ignis of his uniform shirt and undershirt, his abdomen all lean muscle and with tiny beauty marks dotting his alabaster complexion, begging to be touched. The necklace Gladio gifted him — the skull pendant on the thin, delicate chain — glinted in the moonlight, resting now in the hollow of his neck, no longer hidden under his shirt. With trembling fingers, Gladio reached up and took the pendant between his fingers, noting its warmth after being against Ignis’ chest for so long.

"You still wear it," he breathed, half disbelief, half elation.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

“I . . . I don’t know. Still surprises me, ‘s all.” He’d given Ignis that necklace before he put the pieces together that he valued him as more than ‘just a friend’. Every step they took to further their working partnership, then friendship, then relationship flashed like a montage in Gladio’s memory, tonight being no exception. As bad as he wanted this — he fucking ached with need and desire — he had to make sure Ignis wanted this too. It wouldn’t hurt to check in again. “Hey . . . Iggy, you . . . you know, we don’t have to —”

“I want to,” Ignis interrupted, his lips hovering over Gladio’s, breathing short and labored. His glasses — lenses fogged and smudged — hung crooked on his face. “I . . . I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?”

As if to punctuate his point, whether he did so subconsciously or not, Ignis rolled his hips, grinding against Gladio for some sort of relief, his cock already hard in his pressed slacks. The dark pupils of his eyes edged the emerald green out almost completely, nothing more than a sliver of color. He brought a hand up to cover Gladio’s, still playing with the skull on the necklace, and gave him the smallest of smiles. His desire even bled into the tone of his voice, strained as he spoke. “The question is, are you sure you want this? I know the value you place on inter — I mean, sex . . . I don’t want you to feel pressured by any means.”

Gladio didn’t feel pressured. Terrified, yes, but not pressured. His eyes flicked to the nightstand as he thought about the bottle of lubricant and box of condoms he’d bought recently, just in case an occasion such as this arose between them. He’d had plenty of idealistic conceptions and daydreams about his hypothetical first time with Ignis — some romantic, some sensual, some so raunchy that they were probably better left in his fantasies. Each one, though, played out in the exact same way — the only way. 

“Iggy . . .” Gladio whispered, running his other hand up Ignis’ thigh until it came to rest on his hip. “I want you tonight. Please .”

The request hung there, lingering until Ignis could comprehend what Gladio was truly asking. Gladio watched with bated breath as Ignis considered the implications and what this meant for both of them as well as their relationship. Would this make things awkward? Make their bond stronger? It had to, right?

To answer Gladio’s question, Ignis kissed the back of the hand he’d been holding and asked, “Do you have what we need? The . . . erm . . .”

“Oh, uh . . . yeah . . .” Gladio jerked his head in the direction of the nightstand. “Everything’s in there . . . so . . . yeah . . .”

When Ignis didn’t say anything else, didn’t do anything else, Gladio naturally assumed he was thinking of ways to let him down gently as to not hurt his feelings. This was a lot to process, after all. It could’ve been Gladio’s confirmation that he had the lubricant and condoms that sobered the mood, or that he wanted Ignis to be inside him for their first time. Regardless, having Ignis sit there, staring down on him through hooded eyes, was incredibly intimidating. 

Gladio started to pull his hand back sheepishly. “Like I said, Iggy, we don’t have to—”

But Ignis didn’t let him finish. Without warning, his lips were back on Gladio’s as he showed him that, once again, he did want this. With heated open-mouth kisses, heedless and messy and so damn intoxicating that it made Gladio’s head spin, they worked on getting each other out of the rest of their clothing. Neither one paid any particular attention to where they threw their pants, boxer briefs, or Gladio’s shirt and undershirt, too focused on each other to really care.

It took every ounce of willpower to not skip right into having sex, but by the Six, Gladio was going to try to drag this night out as long as possible — hormones be damned. In one smooth motion, Gladio managed to sit up, wrap an arm around Ignis, and flip him so he was on his back and Gladio was on top, much to Ignis’ chagrin. 

After removing his glasses and placing them on the nightstand, Gladio kissed along Ignis’ sharp jawline, down his neck, across the planes of his chest and stomach, all the way to the sensitive skin of his hips, noting the goosebumps that prickled Ignis’ skin as he did. The lower Gladio went, all the way until he was practically breathing on his cock, the more unraveled Ignis became. They hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet and Ignis was already begging for more. 

Gladio willed his heart to stop pounding so damn hard in his chest as he licked his lips, then took Ignis in his mouth, moaning as Ignis’ hand came to rest on the crown of his head, urging Gladio to take him as deep as he could without uttering a single word. 

Even though they’d done all of this before — the fooling around and the kissing and the touching — something about it felt brand new, like it was the very first time all over again. Hell, it wasn’t like they rarely messed around or anything; whenever they had even a minute alone, whether it was in the car, outside where they thought no one could find them, or right here in Gladio’s bedroom, they always managed to push the boundaries further and further until sex was the only act left that they hadn’t marked off on their list of things to do. 

It seemed Gladio wasn’t the only one to find a new sense of passion and urgency to all of this. Glancing up, he saw Ignis throw his head back in ecstasy, barely able to contain his out-of-character whining and Gladio’s own name from escaping his lips. And, when he did accidentally slip up, a sharp cry when Gladio licked the underside of his length, it was enough to send a shiver straight down his spine and to his own cock.

Having Ignis like this —  eyes screwed shut, blotchy red marks like patchwork on his pale chest, and blissed out without a care in the world when he was normally so damn guarded — made Gladio want to count his lucky stars. Somehow, he knew he would never tire of this view or the way Ignis said his name. He even welcomed the dull ache that came whenever Ignis pulled the hair clenched so tightly in his grasp, probably unaware he was hurting Gladio while doing so.

He’d been admiring Ignis for so long, hypnotized by the way he looked and the way he tasted, that he hadn’t been paying particularly close attention to what he was doing. Just as he moved to take Ignis deeper — they did it in all those pornos and shit, and he’d read about how to do it, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? — Ignis chose that exact moment (or maybe it felt that good and Ignis was too wrapped up in the moment?) to buck his hips upward, causing Gladio to reel back and cough violently. 

Oops. So much for everything going right and no weirdly awkward moments.

In an instant, Ignis was up and panicked, hunched over to check on Gladio. “Oh no! Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Gladio. Are you hurt? I’m so, so sorry!”

But Gladio was already laughing in between his coughing fit, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. 

“What’s so funny?” Ignis frowned, probably wondering if Gladio had gone mad. He hadn’t, of course, but it just showed that, no matter how storybook romantic Gladio wanted this night to be, this was still real life and things were bound to happen. It was ok to laugh if something went awry — and Gladio had to face it, choking because his boyfriend had been too far gone in unabashed pleasure was pretty damn funny.

When he finally had himself under control, Gladio faced Ignis and fought the urge to start laughing all over again. Ignis’ eyes were the widest Gladio had ever seen them before and his face had taken on a deep, scarlet hue from sheer embarrassment. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny but . . . I mean . . . you gotta admit, it kinda is.”

“It hardly seems comical to me,” he pouted, shoulders sagging. “Nonetheless, so long as I haven’t ruined the mood . . .” 

“Ruin the mood?” Gladio shook his head, nudging Ignis with his arm. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly ideal, but he wasn’t complaining — in fact, it was nice to bring some humor into the room. It grounded Gladio’s expectations and brought the bar he’d set to something more realistic. “It’s ok. Really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Iggy . . . I’m fine, ok? I promise  nothing is ruined. Now . . . where were we?”

When both were reassured and composure was restored, Ignis’ hand came to Gladio’s cheek as he moved in for another long, languorous kiss, effectively taking his breath away. All prior feelings of humiliation had vanished, wiped away as if nothing had ever happened as they picked up where they left off. 

Ignis guided Gladio to the head of the bed, coaxing him onto his back in the same spot Ignis had occupied just moments ago. Gladio’s head began to swim, doubly so when he realized with a start that Ignis had retreated from their kiss to retrieve the condoms and lube pointed out to him earlier in their tryst. 

Ok, forget everything he thought earlier. Those nerves that Gladio thought were gone? They were back with a vengeance, made even worse when Ignis knelt between his legs and uncapped the lube with a loud snap of the lid. Gladio thought he was the only one feeling this way —  nervous and excited and the whole gamut of emotions in between — but Ignis cursed as he squeezed more of the liquid than necessary on his fingers, some dripping onto the sheets and the top of Gladio’s thigh. 

Maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.

“Gladio?”

“Yeah?”

“You will inform me if you’re uncomfortable, yes?” It sounded like a question, but it was more of a command. 

“I will.”

“Promise?”

Nyx’s voice was back again, echoing what Gladio needed to hear. “ I know you want to act like you got this and like it’s not a big deal, but I’m almost positive you won’t say anything if it hurts, just because you want everything to be romantic and shit. If Scientia is really the great guy you say he is, he’ll listen to you if you need to slow down or if you need some time. I’m telling you, the bedroom is not the time to put on that macho man act that you do when you’re nervous. Just . . . go at your own pace, alright?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I’ll let you know.”

Ignis waited a fraction of a second longer, almost as if he were assessing whether Gladio was telling the truth. Gladio smiled reassuringly, hoping that would be enough for Ignis to continue. 

And, it was. As soon as he felt Ignis’ fingers, the lubricant cool and slick against him, Gladio had to fight against the urge to tense up. He had to relax. Stay calm. Ignis sensed this and waited before continuing, never once diverting his gaze from Gladio’s face, searching for any minor sign or indication that he was uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

It was . . . weird. Foreign. It didn’t feel good . . . but it also didn’t feel that bad. Ignis took his time, never once rushing things. It was better to take things at an agonizingly slow pace than it was to jump right into things and ruin it all because it hurt. 

Then, the discomfort faded and Gladio found himself panting, wanting more. Every time Ignis thrust his fingers into him — one, then two, then a third — the more Gladio craved him. Craved his cock instead of his fingers. Craved his mouth on his. Craved his body and everything he had to give. 

“Ignis . . . please? I . . . I’m ready.” 

Quietly, and with a clumsiness Gladio had never seen before, Ignis moved at high speed, withdrawing his fingers and grabbing the box of condoms, tearing the foil of the wrapper and gingerly removing the condom from its package. Once it was rolled on, and after another liberal amount of lubricant was coated onto him, Ignis lined himself up with Gladio, while Gladio angled his legs to give Ignis more room. 

With one hand anchored in the pillow beside Gladio’s head and the other hooked around the back of Gladio’s thigh, Ignis leaned in close, foreheads almost pressed together. “Are you sure about this?” he asked one final time.

Gladio had never been so sure about anything before in his life. He wanted this so bad, dreamt of it as he drifted off to sleep and using the hypothetical imagery to get off every night. In his heart of hearts, Gladio knew this was exactly who he wanted to lose his virginity to.

“Yeah,” he said, barely audible over their heavy breathing and beating hearts. “I’m sure.”

All those years of searching the internet, listening to his friends as they one-by-one lost their own virginities, and reading story after story after story had given Gladio many ideas on how this would all go down.

It would hurt. 

It would be awkward. 

It would be a quick fuck, done and over before it even began. 

The other person didn’t care and certainly wouldn’t care the next morning, even if the sex was decent at best. 

But few thoughts went through Gladio’s mind as Ignis slowly entered him, taking his time — both out of fear of hurting Gladio and because of his anxiety over not knowing what to do — as he did so. 

Gladio’s first thought? It wasn’t painful or anything, thank the Astrals, but it was still pretty uncomfortable. Despite all he’d done to prepare, both physically and mentally, and even with Ignis moving at an almost glacial pace, it would still take some getting used to.

The second thought? Awkward was just one of the many feelings and emotions he experienced. Not one of his friends ever lost their virginities to someone they cared about. It was just something they did , no meaning behind it whatsoever. Whenever anyone ever slept with someone new, it was always followed up with a cheap rundown detailing how they were in bed, then they’d brag about the heartbroken text messages asking what happened. Back then, Gladio would sneer along with the rest of them, mumbling how pathetic these people were, but if Ignis decided tomorrow that this meant nothing? If he pretended like Gladio never existed after tonight? Well . . . that would fucking suck. 

Which brought him to his third and final thought.

As Ignis crept his hand over to Gladio’s just a few inches away, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tight, Gladio remembered the very moment he opened that fateful email in his car all those months ago. He’d been so pissed when he found out he was paired with Ignis on the stupid senior project, only thinking of the worst-case scenario outcomes. They would never get along, neither one having anything in common with the other. Not only would they have nothing to show for their paper, but they would most likely fail their final year as a result. All his hard work, all those hours spent studying and all that time achieving what he hoped would be Valedictorian status would be for nothing. Snotty, nerdy, know-it-all Ignis Scientia would be the bane of his existence and there was nothing he could do about it.

It would, without a shadow of a doubt, be the worst year of his high school career. 

But laying here, Ignis’ necklace swaying back and forth like a pendulum as their bodies moved rhythmically as one, Gladio had to concede defeat and admit his prior first impressions couldn’t have been further from the truth. Ignis wasn’t the shrill, cold bastard he’d first thought him to be, just like Gladio wasn’t the arrogant, popular asshole Ignis probably (no, definitely ) imagined him to be. 

As they kissed, sweet yet sensual and passionate, that same deep reaction overwhelmed every sense within Gladio, the same one he felt at the dinner table while gazing at Ignis. It lit a fire in his heart, burning with such great intensity that Gladio wondered if there was anything in the world to express it to its fullest. Whatever it was was indescribable, beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. 

And then he gave himself to Ignis in every way possible — body, mind, and soul. 

Later that night, hours after they’d finished and cleaned up their mess, hours after they caught their breath and buried themselves under the covers together, Gladio’s fingers traced invisible lines up and down the length of Ignis’ body while Ignis pressed himself tight into Gladio, not a bit of space between them.

“H-hey, Iggy?”

“Mmm?” Eyes closed, Ignis was this close to drifting off to sleep, peaceful with a small smile quirking the corners of his lips.

“I . . . I . . .” He wanted to tell him. He needed to tell him, but Ignis passed out shortly after and by then it was too late. Instead, Gladio whispered his sentiments over and over, his lips forming the words against Ignis’ bare shoulder.

And that was that Gladiolus Amicitia was deeply, madly, utterly, head over heels and completely in love with Ignis Scientia. 

Chapter Text

Damn, people weren’t kidding — losing your virginity really did change everything. 

It hadn’t even been a week and already Gladio’s feelings were amplified tenfold. Ignis was the drug and Gladio was the addict, fiending for his fix any chance he could. Every waking moment was now occupied with thoughts of Ignis — the way he sounded, the way he tasted. How time suspended in the hours after their first time, nothing but the two of them under the covers and the promise of the world at their feet. 

It wasn’t just a mere want to be near Ignis anymore. No, it had turned into a need . . . a need he couldn’t fully satisfy no matter how often they saw each other — an itch he couldn't scratch. In fact, the minute Gladio dropped Ignis off at home the very next morning, he wanted nothing more than to run out of his car, chase him down, and ask for Ignis to come back to his house so they could do nothing but enjoy each other’s company all day. 

Unfortunately for both of them, they had more schoolwork and Citadel work and family stuff than they knew what to do with, making it difficult — if not impossible — to get together on a whim.

So, they found little bits of stolen time when they could that week, choosing to meet one morning behind a math building where they knew no prying eyes could find them. Ignis had Gladio penned in between his arms, hands planted firmly against the brick of the building. Their lips were red and swollen from their hot and heavy makeout session, neither one willing to be the first to pull away. It was a magnetic force they had no control over, one that pulled them into each other without relenting. 

“We . . . had better . . . make our way . . . to class,” Ignis suggested in between kisses. 

Gladio, however, wasn’t too keen on that idea. He pulled Ignis as close as humanly possible, holding him tight against his body, and smiled into their kiss. “Five more minutes?”

“Mmmm . . . you said that five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“And why is that?”

Gladio’s sly shrug and coy smile were as good as Ignis was going to get. Oh well — as much a stickler as Ignis was to punctuality, he didn’t have it in him to deny Gladio’s request, instead melting right into his chest and running his hands through Gladio’s hair. He seemed to be just as pleased with an extra five minutes, his tongue parting Gladio’s lips to lick into his mouth, humming sweetly.

Five minutes came too soon and Gladio sighed a mournful sound as they broke apart. “Do we have to go? Can’t we stay back here all day? No one has to know.”

Ignis left Gladio with one more peck to the lips before seeking out his bag, discarded somewhere in the grass. “It would be foolish for us to squander time out here at this juncture of our high school career. We’ve only a month and a half before the summer months is ours, yes?” Once he found his bag, grabbing Gladio’s as well, he came back and smiled, handing said bag over. “That being said . . . if it’s time together you desire, I’m amenable to coming over . . . oh, let’s say tomorrow evening? We could get in some hands-on experience for our project? That is . . . if you're free?”

Gladio groaned, his head audibly thudding against the brick. “Fucking shit , Ignis . . . you’re going to suggest that and expect me to be fine until tomorrow? You’re a sadist, you know that?”

“And yet, you’ve managed just fine before, so I’ve no doubt you’ll survive until then.”

“Ass.”

With one final kiss, Gladio waited for Ignis to leave first, not wanting to explain to any random passerby why the two of them were emerging from behind a building, cheeks flushed and hair in total disarray. It was better this way, keeping things on the down-low — at least until graduation. This way, no one was liable to ask any embarrassing questions or get in the way of what they had. The last thing Gladio wanted was for anyone to fuck this up for them. 

Right as Gladio pushed himself off of the brick wall, ready to head to class, his phone vibrated in his pants pocket, an incoming text message presumably. Ignis had literally just rounded the corner, so it couldn’t have been him texting, especially so soon. 

Speaking of ‘fucking this up’ . . .

When he pulled the phone out and tapped the screen to life, it unnerved him to see Luche’s name appear instead of . . . well . . . anyone else’s.

The last time they’d held any sort of extensive conversation was weeks ago. As for texting? Well, Gladio still had that disturbing message on his phone from a while back — the one asking whether he was at Galdin or not. Nothing else had really come from it, so Gladio assumed it really was an odd coincidence. If Luche had wanted to do anything, he would’ve done it by now . . . right?

Flicking open his messenger application, Gladio was relieved to see it was just a harmless text. Nothing crazy or out of the ordinary from what they used to say to each other.

Luche (7:34 am) - Amicitia, where the fuck have you been lately? come have lunch with us today. we’ll be in the courtyard.

Again, harmless enough. Yeah, Gladio had to admit he had done a damn great job at distancing himself from Luche and his friends, choosing to take his lunches alone so he could read or study. After a while, they stopped asking him to come out for lunch or to hang out in general. The invitations to parties ceased (but that could also partly be due to the fact that Nyx was gone and the parties sucked these days) and things were quieter overall. Maybe they truly missed him. It was a nice thought, one that Gladio hadn’t even considered. 

Besides, they didn’t have much longer in the school year. A month and a half-ish? Something like that. It wouldn’t hurt to have lunch with the people who he’d spent the majority of his high school years with. That’s all it was . . . just lunch. No big deal. 

He texted his response before pocketing his phone, heading off to class.

Gladio (7:36 am) - been busy. sorry.

Gladio (7:37 am) - but yeah that sounds good. ill see you at lunch. 

That afternoon at lunchtime, Gladio wondered if he was crazy for agreeing to meet up with his friends. Something about all of it felt so . . . off. 

He hadn’t even reached the courtyard yet, but the sounds of conversation and laughter could already be heard. Odd . . . Gladio knew it had been a bit since he’d been out at the courtyard, but he definitely didn’t remember anything there being that interesting or hilarious. He scrunched his nose as he continued down the outdoor hall, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder. 

Ok . . . even weirder was the fact that everyone was . . . pointing? Giggling? At him? Did he have something on his face? His scar could be pretty jarring to anyone who hadn’t met him before, but everyone at Insomnia Academy did know him. Literally everyone. Maybe he had a pimple or something? Gladio tried to be subtle as he brought a hand to his face, blindly patting around to check for anything that seemed off. 

His hair was messy but styled. He hadn’t eaten anything besides a protein bar and a banana today, so there wasn’t anything in his teeth. No pimples, as suspected. No alien object, no pen mark on his cheek, and he’d just shaved that morning so he knew it wasn’t like he’d missed a spot or anything. 

Oh, what was that piece of paper everyone was holding? Whatever it was must’ve been pretty damn amusing, because when his peers weren’t busy laughing at him, they were laughing at whatever was on that paper. Gladio had half a mind to approach one of them and ask what was going on.

It didn’t matter, though, because he found the answer to all his questions 0.5 seconds later as he rounded the corner to the courtyard where he was supposed to meet everyone.

Gladio stopped dead in his tracks, white-knuckles conveying the tight grip he had on the strap of his bag. The ground opened up from under him and he was falling, falling, falling into a dark pit devoid of anything except mortification and shame. The blood drained from his face, running ice-cold as he encountered what appeared to be a poster-sized picture on display for everyone to see. 

A racy, dimly lit, but still very clear photo that Gladio recognized as him . . . and Ignis . . . nude in the ocean waters at Galdin Quay. 

That same fucking night Gladio swore up and down that they were alone and would never be caught. 

“Fucking shit ,” Gladio whispered, willing the nausea roiling his stomach to go away, lest he wanted to throw up right here, right now on the courtyard cobblestone. Oh gods , fucking Astrals , goddamn Six. “No . . . no . . . no . . .”

“Ah, look who it is! The Man of the Hour!” a very familiar voice welcomed as that person jumped from where they stood on an outdoor table to the ground. When the crowd parted, Luche appeared, strutting to meet Gladio with papers in hand. Pelna and Tredd sneered from the outer ring of the crowd, while Crowe watched impassively from the side. 

When he was finally toe-to-toe with Gladio, he took a paper from the top of the stack and shoved it in Gladio’s chest, holding it there until Gladio ripped it away to see it for himself. Yup, it was the same exact picture that had been blown up for everyone to see, made smaller for easier distribution.  

Actually, on second thought? Maybe it would do Gladio some good to rid his nausea by throwing up all over Luche. The fucking bastard deserved it.

“So, uh,” Luche began, looking at the photo with mock enthusiasm. “I kinda figured that was you that night at the Quay . . . and I had my suspicions that you were crushing on him and shit . . . but imagine. My. Surprise. When I find you two . . . in the water . . . like this!”

His sing-song voice only served to revolt Gladio further. Eyes fixated on the large picture at the front of the courtyard of the two of them lip-locked against that crag, Gladio wished on Ramuh to strike him down, on Leviathan to hurl a tsunami his way to wipe his existence from the school, and on Bahamut to just end his misery in whatever fashion the deity deemed worthy.

Luche continued his assault. “All that time you spent pretending to hate the guy . . . and here you are with your dick in his hand. I’ve always heard sneaking around makes for some wicked hot sex . . . care to share with the rest of us how it was?”

Gladio wanted to ask how the hell Luche got such a clear picture when he was so damn sure that there was no one around on that beach. Had cell phone photo quality really come that far? Why was he even there in the first place, which Gladio could answer himself — Luche and his family had a beach house nearby, so he was probably away for a quick family vacation.

And then there was the final question that begged to be asked, the one Gladio tried to find words for but no sound came out. Why. Why would Luche do something so horrible? Why would he go out of his way to tear Gladio down until there was nothing left? Yeah, Gladio loathed the guy, but had he been so damn naive to not realize the feeling was mutual? Why the fuck was this even happening?

“Awww, what’s the matter? Hm? Did I hit a nerve?” Luche stood a little taller, leaning in close to Gladio’s ear, his breath an annoying tickle on his skin — like a gnat or mosquito Gladio wanted to swat away. “Tell me, Amicitia . . . did you like it? Was it cute giving him directions, his first time and all? Were you that damn desperate for some action? Did you guys do more? Suck his dick? Did you . . .”

The lump in Gladio’s throat grew, but whether it was bile or the threat of tears, he couldn’t be too sure. Luche pulled away just far enough to look Gladio dead in the eyes, knowing full well without finishing his question just what Gladio’s answer would be. Gladio saw it, too — saw the recognition and the intent to strip him of whatever dignity he had left. 

“Well . . . well . . . well . . . you fucked him, too? Amicitia, you sly bastard. Sleeping with the goddamn enemy. I’m impressed . . . was it good? Did he just lay there, legs spread for you like a fucking invitation?”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh damn . . . you’re really getting pissy, aren’t you? It’s just sex, dude. We've all done it! Unless . . . unless you caught feelings and — oh, even worse — you gave him your V-card.”

When Gladio didn’t confirm nor deny it, Luche took that to mean exactly what Gladio was hiding. “You did . . . didn’t you? You fucking virgin . . . your first time . . . was with . . . Scientia ?? Holy shit . . . hey guys! Did you hear that? Amicitia wasn’t the fucking playboy we all thought he was!” 

Then, he turned back to Gladio. “Your first time, huh? Was it all romantic and shit with candles and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears? Fumbling around and making goddamn asses of yourselves because you don’t know what the fuck your doing? Hm? Tell me, Amicitia . . . was it everything you two fantasized about? Hm? Got anything you want to say? Actually . . . better yet? I’ll just ask him myself.”

Gladio had been so focused on Luche in his goddamn ear, his eyes on the large poster of the picture, that he hadn’t noticed the silence that blanketed the crowd, or that their attention wasn’t on him anymore. Or rather, they still were . . . but everyone was more focused on something else behind him. 

He whirled around, cold panic coursing through him as he found Ignis standing there, his face beet red as whatever papers he had been holding cascaded from his hand to the cobblestone below. The muscles of his jaw moved and twitched as he ground his teeth behind the firm, pursed line of his lips, his breathing oddly even. Dangerously even. Scary even. 

“‘Ey yo! Scientia! Nice ass you got there!” Luche jeered, skirting around Gladio like a hunter to his prey. He slung an arm around Ignis’ shoulders, holding the papers with the pictures out in front of them, a prized possession of sorts. “You know . . . I knew there was something going on between you and my boy . . . but I never imagined you two were fucking each other.”

Gladio’s thoughts screamed for him to say something. Anything . What was stopping him? The onlookers? The fear of rejection? His raw, curdling anger like a vice grip around his neck?

Or was it the fact that he'd kept quiet for so long, afraid to rock the boat and stand up for himself when he’d wanted to the most, that he didn’t know how to speak up now? 

“None of this had to happen, Scientia. Don’t you remember? That thing I asked you about at the Citadel? About the Kingsglaive and shit? If you’d just listened to me and done what I’d asked? We could’ve avoided all of this if you’d helped me with that one teensy favor.” Luche sighed as if he were truly heartbroken over everything. “It fucking sucks that it came to this, you know?”

Ignis was trembling, seething with every word that Luche spoke, the color of his face deepening to a ghastly shade of red, almost purple. He looked ready to explode, a bomb at the very end of its fuse. Through it all, Ignis continued to stare daggers at Gladio, the silence between them deafening in an otherwise rowdy and rambunctious courtyard — a courtyard of people who pounced on whatever drama they could get their hands on. 

After several more seconds of snickers and teasing, Ignis shrugged Luche’s arm off his shoulders and knelt to pick up the papers he’d dropped earlier. He remained poised and graceful, even as everyone around them pointed and laughed. Then, when all the papers were collected and stacked together, some a bit worse for the wear after getting stepped on by fellow students, Ignis straightened up and . . . 

And, nothing.

No emotion. No more color to his face. No looks that could kill or tension in his muscles. There was absolutely nothing and Gladio had no idea what to do with that. At the same time, Gladio feared his moment to step forward to rectify the situation had come and gone, evident by the way Ignis looked at him without that same fire in his eyes like he used to. Hell, even when they weren’t friends, Ignis at least regarded him with derision and scorn — a hell of a lot better than being looked at like he didn’t even matter.

Like he didn’t even exist.

Then, with his chin high and his jaw set, papers hugged close to his chest, Ignis turned on his heels and walked through the parting crowd, everyone still elbowing each other, pointing, giggling, and staring as Ignis walked away, never once slowing or looking back.

“Awwww, don’t leave! The fun’s just getting started!” Luche called out in mock enthusiasm, shaking Gladio loose from his daze. It wasn’t until Luche walked back to Gladio, taking a position right in front of him again, that Gladio finally found his voice — well, more of a hoarse whisper than anything. “ Fuck. You. ”

“How cute, Amicitia . . . but, shouldn’t you be saving that one for Scientia? I bet he’d love to take you up on that offer.” That fucking asshole chuckled, scoffing contemptuously. He loved watching Gladio writhe with anger, having a hold on him that he never truly had before. 

Gods, Gladio wanted to punch him right in his goddamn face, punch that smug smile right off his lips. He needed to feel the pain in his knuckles, see Luche reduced to a cursing mess on the ground as he scrambled to pretend like he wasn’t hurt . . . Gladio needed to release his anger but . . . he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

Instead, he took one step back, then another, and then turned to break through the crowd, pushing and shoving people aside as Luche yelled out after him, something about forgetting his copy of the photo. 

Fuck all of them. 

Ignis’ house looked daunting.

Gladio had no idea how long he’d stood outside, hands in his pockets and head bowed, but it was long enough for the song played on the piano inside to end, a melancholic sound quieting before another beautiful tune played. Gladio hadn’t remembered a piano anywhere in the Scientia household, but then again, he’d only been inside once.

That felt like lifetimes ago.

Summoning the courage, he removed one hand and rapped his knuckles against the door, several quiet taps in a pathetic attempt at a knock. Pathetic, like when he turned around and found Ignis standing at the other end of the courtyard. Pathetic, like the moment his tongue suddenly swelled to ten times its normal size, making it impossible to say a damn word at all. Pathetic, like when he watched Ignis turn and walk away, head held high as everyone around them laughed . . . and Gladio felt fucking powerless to stop it all for happening.

The music softened and slowed but never stopped, the player probably checking to make sure they heard the knocking correctly. A female voice commanded something from the other side of the door, but it was so muffled that Gladio couldn’t understand what was said. Knowing Ignis’ family, it was probably his mother telling him he wasn’t allowed to end his practice. “ No one will take you seriously, Ignis, if you don’t master the piano, ” Gladio mocked in his head, high-pitched and a poor imitation of Ignis’ mother. 

The deadbolt unlocked and the door creaked open. Stern and intimidating, Gladio took a step or two back as Ignis’ mother regarded him with a fixed stare, crossing her arms in the doorway. “Can I help you?” she asked, no emotion or warmth in her voice. If Gladio didn’t know any better, he’d think she was directing all her anger and hostility at him. Fuck, he didn’t even know if she remembered his name, but he wondered if she somehow knew what happened at school. 

Gladio rubbed the back of his neck, then thought better of it and balled his fists at his side, forcing a polite smile. “Oh . . . hey . . . uh, Mrs. Scientia . . . is Ignis . . . is he around?”

“He’s busy at the moment, but I can —”

“Mother,” Ignis interrupted from the shadows of the entryway, still out of sight from Gladio’s line of vision. “Could I have a moment?”

She snapped her head back to look at her son, then to Gladio. One more time to Ignis, before finally relenting. “Five minutes. It’s almost time for supper,” she replied, a lot . . . well . . . nicer than Gladio would’ve expected from her. Through all the stories he’d heard and all the anecdotes Ignis recalled, his mother had never, and would never, be the type to coddle her son for any reason whatsoever. That’s just how it was in the Scientia household.  

Then, when she disappeared from the doorway and was replaced by Ignis instead, that’s when it all fucking made sense. 

And it hit Gladio in the stomach. Hard. Like a sucker punch he didn’t see coming. 

This was not the Ignis he was used to seeing. The Ignis he knew was poised and meticulous about his looks, never a single strand of hair out of place. Hell, the only time Gladio ever saw him look disheveled was in the bedroom, and that was his own doing. 

The Ignis standing in front of him had obviously been crying, cheeks and nose blotched with red, while dried tears tracked down his face. His glasses were gone, giving Gladio a perfect view of Ignis’ bloodshot and puffy eyes. Yet, despite all of that, Ignis still looked at Gladio like he was completely and utterly nothing to him, like the events of the day didn’t affect him the way they really did. 

Somehow, that hurt the most. 

“Gladiolus,” Ignis greeted curtly with one, single nod. He moved outside, easing the door almost closed behind him. “What are you doing here?”

What are you doing here? What did Ignis think he was doing here? That seemed like an obvious answer, but that was probably Ignis’ way of establishing the upper hand in this argument . . . because that’s all this was, right? An argument? Nothing more than a simple misunderstanding, one they could easily work around once Gladio explained himself. “I wanted to see you,” was all that came out, though, a measly attempt at an apology.

“Oh . . . oh now you want to see me,” Ignis bit back, a bitterness in his words that Gladio hadn’t heard directed at him in so long. “Now that we’re alone. Now that your so-called friends aren’t around to hear you sing your praises about me.”

“No? C’mon Ignis, you know that’s not how this —”

“No, that’s exactly how it is!” he cried out through gritted teeth, tears already threatening to fall again down the same path carved for them from earlier ones. “Your friends made us the laughingstock of our school and you merely stood there!”

“I didn’t know what to say!” Gladio responded in earnest, hands in front of him as he hunched low, almost lowering himself to Ignis’ height. “I fucking rounded the goddamn corner and they blindsided me with that picture! You think I would’ve let this happen if I knew ? You should know me better than that!”

“I don’t even know what to believe anymore!”

“For fuck’s sake, believe me !”

“Luche knew about us and exploited it for personal gain, Gladiolus. Do you not see how that bodes for you? For me? All because I couldn’t secure him a position within the Citadel, and because your friends have some vendetta against me that I will never understand! They don’t care who they hurt, so long as they gain the upper-hand! Don’t you see? This was all just a matter of time, casualties in their wicked games . . . and I?” Ignis took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. “All of this? It’s . . . it’s too much! It’s too much and I . . . I can’t do this."

The way Ignis said that shook Gladio to the core. He straightened up, a quizzical look on his face as his hands fell back to his side. “What does that mean?” he asked. Part of him truly wanted to know what the fuck Ignis was talking about, hoping against all hope that this was just a rush of emotions in the heat of the moment . . . while part of him already knew the answer. The real answer. “Ignis . . . what are you talking about, huh? Too much? Since when has anything between us been ‘too much’?”

It was the first time Ignis let go of all the anger and tension in his shoulders. His face. Every fiber of his being. All the resentment and aggression he harbored was replaced with something much more somber . . . something regretful. Something sad. 

“I just . . . I can’t,” Ignis surrendered, his eyes cast on the ground between them. He didn’t fidget, didn’t look up, nothing, maybe thinking if he caught Gladio’s expression, it would change his resolve. “I’m sorry . . . but I can’t do this anymore.”

No . . . no, no. No, please.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but Gladio could feel the exact moment his heart shattered, splintering into a million tiny pieces. Surely, Ignis wasn’t serious. Maybe Luche had put him up to this? One final joke at his expense? There was no way Ignis was withdrawing now . . . not after everything they’d been through. “What do you mean anymore ? Is this something you’ve been thinking about, or is it because of the bullshit in the courtyard? C’mon Ignis —”

“Gladio,” Ignis wavered, his lower lip quivering again with all the pain he held back — or tried to, at least. “You and I both know this would’ve never worked long term. Your world? Your friends?”

“Fuck ‘em!” Gladio swiped a hand through the air, admonishing the very fact that his friends were the reason for their downfall. “Fuck ‘em all!”

A bitter laugh escaped Ignis’ lips, scoffing at Gladio’s rhetoric. “So you say . . . until you’re faced with their criticism once more.”

Gladio was beyond the point of pragmatism. No, he was damn near desperate, stepping into Ignis’ space and reaching for his hands, hoping that maybe, just maybe , some form of physical contact would be enough to sway Ignis back to rationality. Only . . . only Ignis had seen Gladio’s attempt and sidestepped it, moving his hands just enough that Gladio reached for nothing but air. 

Another sharp stab to Gladio’s heart. He couldn’t believe this was happening. What the hell was all that before about never going anywhere, no matter what? Had Ignis really been that spooked? Honestly, Gladio expected the anger. He expected some spitefulness and maybe a day or two of needing space, but he never expected this — this being the fact that Ignis was quick to throw in the towel when it came to matters of the heart. “Ignis,” he implored one last time, already aware it was futile. “I . . . please don’t do this. I don’t want . . . can we . . .”

Things were perfect just this morning, weren’t they? How the hell were they here now, fresh tears spilling down their faces and walls reconstructed that Gladio had thought were eradicated completely? 

What was that word he used earlier? Oh yeah, that’s right — pathetic. It’s exactly how he felt right now, brows furrowed and mouth agape as he scrounged for anything within him to stop Ignis from leaving him alone outside. Yet, the more time that passed with no words to fill it, the quicker Gladio felt Ignis slipping through his fingers, like grains of sand in an hourglass passing through the neck. One by one, piece by piece, until time was up and there was nothing left.

With one final swipe of the back of his hand to his face, trying to rid the evidence of his sadness by wiping the tears away, Ignis stood tall, shoulders back. “Goodbye, Gladiolus,” he said, finality in his words and his tone. 

Ignis retreated to the confines of his house, taking care to lock the door — and his heart — behind him.

That night, vision blurred from too much alcohol and too many tears, Gladio attempted several times to type out a text to Ignis.

They all went unsent.