Prompto Argentum peered through the darkness, gun raised. He was stalking his prey through the Leide hills; a pack of demons on an abandoned trail. He had been clearing out the demons, one road at a time, but they kept coming back. At first he had hoped to make the roads safe again, but now he knew that was futile. Instead he worked tirelessly to keep their numbers down, to protect what was left of the little outposts dotted across the desert.

In the months since the Crown Prince's disappearance, the dawn had died. In fact the sun had not risen once during that time, leaving the land a far colder, darker place. The Crown's Guard had agreed to split up, and provide help where needed, fighting demons and protecting the people. They knew the Prince was alive, because they could still access his power, summoning their weapons at will, and using flasks of magic in battle.

At first, splitting up had seemed temporary: a necessary response to the current situation, but as the months dragged on, and with still no sign of the Prince's return, it became apparent that whatever Noctis was doing, it was going to take some time. It had now been two years.

Spying the demons, Prompto cocked his pistol, taking his time to get his shot lined up. As soon as he had the thing's weak spot in view, he pulled the trigger. The demon hit the floor before the gunshot sound reverberated around the hills, a great roar rumbling up from the thing's dying form. The fallen demon's pack growled, searching the landscape with their unfocused eyes. Prompto slipped away, back the way he had come.

Since he had started going it alone, Prompto had learned a trick or two that made a big difference in a fight. Firstly, to get a shot in before the enemy noticed you, and secondly, to coat all your bullets in poison, just in case. Even if he missed a vital spot, it would still kill the things eventually. That was the trick with survival these days, as he couldn't rely on others to back him up anymore. He had to keep his distance, take out one or two demons, then tactfully retreat until they lost sight of him. Then the cycle continued. Promoto knew his strengths, and close combat was not one of them.

Back up in the field was not the only thing he missed however. Since the group had gone their separate ways, he had felt his own willpower ebbing. Once he had felt like an outsider, the odd one out in the group, having been friends with the prince in high school, he had learned most of his fighting skills in battle. The others had spent their whole lives training for combat. However despite his shortcomings, their journey together had changed him. After all those nights camping under the stars, exploring the world together, all that time in the Regalia, just chilling and sharing stupid banter… He had begun to feel like one of the group, accepted, appreciated even, for what little he had to offer. It was their company that he missed most.

He missed Ignis' warm, cooked breakfasts in the morning, as well as his wise advice. He missed Noctis insisting they stop the car so he could fish wherever they went, but playing Kingsnight with him in the evenings and all the fun they had had together. But most of all, and he would never admit this to anyone, including himself, he missed Gladiolus.

Whenever Prompto passed by the hunter's outpost, he would hear people talking about Gladio like he was still there, and whenever Iris dropped by, she would ask him how Gladio was doing, and he could not answer her. He had no idea how Gladio was doing.

The worst reminder though, the absolute worst, was when he saw someone reading a book, and they got to a good part of a story, where they focused more, and their expression grew serious. Gladio had always adorned that look when he'd been reading that book of his. He'd looked so intently at the pages, that Prompto had wondered what he was reading. What made him use that kind of expression? Now, when Prompto saw people with that look, he felt his lungs contract, and his throat lock, and his heart would lurch in his chest. He did not understand his reaction, or dare to dwell on it, but as time passed, it became more acute, to the point where he had spent more and more time alone. He camped out by himself most nights, only coming back to the outposts for supplies, or to prevent the demons getting too close.

By the time Prompto made it back to his campsite, his stomach was growling louder than the bereft demons, so he crouched down to get a fire started. His kit wasn't as advanced as cookery set they used to have, instead being left with a saucepan, supported by three strong branches that looped through the pot handles. He had to replace them every time it rained, but he was getting used to fending for himself. Tonight's meal was sheep's milk oatmeal: Hardly exciting, but it filled his gut with something warm, and gave him the energy to keep going each day. Some nights he would try to cook meat, but he had not quite mastered that skill yet, or even succeeded at all really. He felt his eyes sting as a plume of smoke wafted his way. He really wished he had a proper grill.

Filling the pot with oats and milk, he realised his wooden spoon was missing. He was rummaging around for the implement when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned swiftly, reaching for his gun in the same movement, and raising it to meet the intruder's face. Prompto's eyes were still adjusting from looking at the fire, so he couldn't quite make out who it was. They were still several meters away. How had they snuck up on him way out here? He wanted to call out for them to show themselves, but he didn't want to draw too much attention. Maybe they couldn't see him all that well yet either? He crouched down again, close to the fire, using the light as cover. As the tall figure came closer, he felt his hands shake. If he missed at this range, he might have to use his fists, something he was not at all confident about.

Prompto could feel his heart beating faster as the figure drew closer and closer. But then Prompto recognised the sound of heavy boots hitting dirt, and a low, familiar chuckle. The gun flew out of Prompto's hand, clattering to the ground, as he ran toward Gladiolus. He ran until he could make out those warm features, his eyes like glowing amber in the firelight. He stopped just in front of the man, suddenly hesitant. Two years was a long time. He was unsure as to when exactly they had stopped calling each other to check in. It was at least a year since Prompto had even heard the bodyguard's voice over the phone. Prompto stood a mere foot away from Gladiolus, as insecurity ploughed through him,

'H-Hey buddy.' Prompto greeted his friend, trying to sound chipper. Gladio was probably only here in passing, and would not be staying long. He would try his best to make it a pleasant memory, 'Dinner's cooking if you'd like some? Not that it's as good as what you're used to, but it's what I got.' For a moment, a strange look crossed over Gladio's face, but it was gone again before Prompto could make it out. Instead the bodyguard smiled, swinging an arm around the gunner's shoulders and giving him a friendly squeeze,

'I'd love some. Smells like oatmeal? And ...did you add honey?' He asked as they walked over to the large log Prompto had been using to sit on, Gladio's arm still wrapped around him. The physical contact was something of a shock to the gunner's system. Nobody had touched him in a long time, at least not with affection. He prickled under his skin where Gladio's hand was resting, causing his brain to melt. He lost all ability to think,

'Honey… yeah I collected some from a hive after I took out some killer bees a while back. It's great with anything. Here lemme get you a bowl…' Prompto stood up, breaking contact with Gladio, and tried to focus on the simple task of getting the meal together. It was Gladio who eventually spotted where he'd put the bowls and spoons. Prompto dished up the food when it was ready, then brought over two wooden bowlfuls of oatmeal. It was still hot, so they just sat there, warming their hands on the bowls.

'Thanks man.' Gladio smiled. Prompto realised he was looking him right in the eye,

'Oh it's nothing! I live cheap and cheerful out here.'

'What…' Gladio's mouth dropped open, 'You live out here? I'd assumed you were just out camping.'

'Oh… yeah I do. I mean, not always in the same spot, but yeah… the tent is home.' It was strange saying it out loud. He had given little thought to his living situation, it had just sort of happened. He could see Gladio was looking at him wide-eyed now,

'...On your own?' Gladio set his bowl aside,

'Yeah.' Prompto confirmed. This conversation was taking a nosedive. He wanted to keep things cheerful, so he tried to change the subject, 'So what are you-' The gunner broke off, as at that moment, he was enveloped in a tight embrace. Those huge arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in.

'I am so sorry… I never thought… I should have called.' Gladio choked out.

Prompto was shaking now. His whole body trembling in Gladio's arms. He did not understand what was going on, 'Isn't this what you and Ignis have been doing? Fighting demons, protecting people?'

'Yeah but… not like this.' Gladio sounded hoarse, 'Ignis stays in town, and I often work with the hunters, sometimes Cor. Even Iris is out fighting now. But you… I guess I figured you'd be with Cindy.' All of the energy seemed to drain from Gladio's body, because he loosened his hold,

'You figured… Gladio, Cindy was a crush. She's a friend. She's in love with her cars, and I'm… well let's say I got over her a while back. Pretty much when I spotted her sweet talking a truck.' His voice cracked a bit, probably from lack of use he thought. When had he last spoken to someone? To anyone, for more than a minute?

'I thought she'd come round… I don't know. I wanted to give you guys some space, or at least that's what I told myself.' Gladio grew quiet, his gaze dropping to his feet. Prompto watched him, noticing absently that the man's dark hair had grown, and was now tied back at the top.

'Gladio…' Something in the bodyguard's words sounded off, 'Gladio, I wasn't going to ask but, what are you doing here? I mean… why now…'

''Cause I'm an idiot, that's why.' he grumbled, looking at his oatmeal, and trying a spoonful, 'Should'a checked in sooner.' They fell silent for a while, until Prompto knew this was the moment. He could see the glum look on Gladio's face, and he had to be honest with himself,

'Stay.' Prompto said simply.

'Huh?' Gladio looked up at him, his eyes full of blatant disbelief,

'Stay. Stick around a while. See if you can put up with waking up next to me in the morning, like when we all used to camp out together.' Prompto could feel the rightness in his own words as he spoke them.

First he saw the bodyguard's lip tremble, then he heard something that sounded like a large, wounded animal. Except the sound was coming from Gladio, and tears were welling under his eyes. Prompto had never, in their whole time together, seen this man cry. Not even close. Now? He was shedding silent tears right in front of him. He took the oatmeal from his friend's hands, setting both of their bowls aside. The next thing he knew, his gloved hand was cupping Gladio's face, grounding him. 'Talk to me, man. What's going on in that head of yours?'

'I… This is gonna sound stupid. At first I was content just hunting demons, like you said, but then I started to… I really missed everyone. I'd got so used to that way of life. It was tough, but we had fun. Even when things got real hard, we were best when we were together. After a while on my own, it started to really hit me… what I was missing' Gladio let out a deep breath. Prompto felt himself recoil. He hadn't dreamt, for even a moment, that the others had been feeling the same. 'But it wasn't until recently that I…' Gladio continued, 'I hit a dead end. I was out by the Vesperpool, far from town, so I spent the night at a nearby haven… I was just falling asleep, when I spotted something in the rocks. In between the runic carvings, was a photograph. It was at least three years old, but…' Gladio paused, plucking a photograph from his pocket. He handed it to Prompto, 'Well. You get it right?'

The gunner stared down at the faded photograph in his hands. It wasn't that old, but it had been exposed to sunlight, meaning it was taken long before Noctis had disappeared. He could just make out the smiling figures of himself and Gladio. He'd clearly had the camera set to self timer, because in the photograph, he was looking at Gladio. He had a sheepish grin on his face, and though the bodyguard had his arms crossed, he was looking back over at Prompto with something akin to… fondness? He blinked. Hard.

He could not remember this exact moment, but looking at this brief piece of their past, somehow reached him in a way that went far further than he had let himself think or feel in a very long time.

'I missed you. I missed all of us, together, but I really… missed you.' Gladio confessed, moving forward, reaching to press Prompto's hand closer against his cheek. His fingers gripping his hand firmly, reassuringly. In that moment, the gunner knew he had been mistaken. He had assumed the others had lost interest in him, or they would have stayed in contact, but it was quite the opposite. They had done the same as him, and with the best of intentions, isolated themselves.

'At first I thought of it as a challenge,' Prompto began slowly, lightly rubbing his thumb in circles over Gladio's cheek, 'but after a while, things got pretty hard. Not the fighting, or even the survival stuff, but just being around people. Everything… reminded me of our time together… of you… I had to step back from it all. That's why I'm out here. I thought you were doing fine without me, or you would have called. I'm the one that should have checked in.' At this revelation, Prompto surprised even himself, but he knew it was true as soon as he spoke it, 'I missed you too.' The bodyguard leaned forward, taking Prompto's face in both hands,

'Now who's tearing up.' Gladio smiled. Prompto reached up, and felt the wetness on his cheeks. He hadn't cried in years. Slowly, Gladio rested his forehead on the younger man's brow, and they stayed like that for a while. They didn't need to say anything more in that moment.