He was aware of time passing only in the form of a clock ticking. He ate only because his family and friends brought him food. He had no desire to do anything but think of Prompto, think of what was going to be missing in his life from now on. The blond would reappear in his dreams, but he would wake with such a yearning in his heart that he regretted sleeping. He felt like he had something ripped out of him. His head hurt. Life had become dull. Prompto had taken the colors and joy with him when he left.
His family didn't know what to think. They hadn't heard a word about Prompto, and Gladiolus planned to keep it that way. He couldn't have his family worrying for his health after they found out he had loved a man with the plauge. He had slept with death. It was a miracle Gladiolus didn't have the plague himself, or maybe it was Noctis.
Sometimes he would curse Etro for taking away his beloved. Etro was a cruel goddess. Anytime Noctis spoke about their goddess in terms of religion, he would always say so. Other times he spoke about her and afterlife like humanity's notion of it was a hallucination. Sometimes Gladiolus cursed Bahamut, but he lacked enough knowledge about the god to truly get angry. Sometimes he got drunk, but that only made things worse, so instead he stayed in bed, watched his ceiling fan spin, and thought about the time Prompto asked him to stay with him while he slept and then how embarrassed he got afterwards, or how he had played a prank on him the first time they met.
Or how he fell asleep on him just a bit after that.
Or the joy on Prompto's face after Noctis gave him the key to the courtyard.
Prompto haunted him.
"Gladio."
The swordsman was laying in his bed with his face in his pillows. He titled his head just enough to see who his visitor was before burying it again.
Ignis was here. He had made several trips to Gladiolus's house since Prompto died. By the smell in the air, he could tell he had brought lunch with him too. Soup, it smelled like. The idea of eating was revolting. He didn't have the stomach for it. Gladiolus felt the bed sag with someone's weight beside him. Then he felt the warm and loving touch of Ignis's arm on his back.
"I brought you soup," Ignis said, "and some movies for us to watch. The rental store down the street reopened yesterday. There was a huge line. I didn't think people missed movies so much."
Gladiolus mumbled something that sounded like a thanks, but he didn't have the heart to put enough effort into it to make it understandable.
A moment of silence passed before Ignis spoke again. "It's Prompto, isn't it?"
Gladiolus felt the pain of Prompto dying all over again at hearing his name from Ignis. No one knew about his death besides Gladiolus and maybe Noctis. The prince had a connection with death his friends could never fully understand. Gladiolus winced.
He was thankful he had no tears left to shed. He cried them all after he awoke next to a corpse, Prompto's corpse. No one deserved to find out their lover died that way.
Seeing that Gladiolus had chosen not to respond, Ignis continued. "I haven't seem him around since..." Since Gladiolus fell apart. "Do you wish to talk about?"
"No, I don't," Gladiolus said. His voice lacked its normal energy.
He wondered what Ignis thought had happened. Did he think Prompto dumped him? That Prompto returned to his country? Maybe he suspected his death. Ignis was smart enough for Gladiolus to not rule out the possibility. Regardless, he couldn't say a word. Not even Ignis could know Noctis had brought someone with the plague in.
Ignis couldn't just sit on the knowledge that Noctis had put everyone in the capital at risk for the plague, even with the carrier dead. It wouldn't take much for the sickness to spread, and the population in the city could be cut by a fourth in a matter of months. There would be yelling, and Noctis couldn't handle strife with a friend right now.
Gladiolus would have reacted the same way, but he had known Prompto as the fugitive from Solheim before he knew him as a sick man. He even fell in love with him. He couldn't get too mad at Noctis after that.
"Very well." Ignis placed his bowl soup on the counter next to Gladiolus's bed before standing. "Shall I start a movie? One of them is a comedy about a man adopts a Chocobo. I heard it's very good."
Ignis hated comedies, but Gladiolus loved them.
"Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks."
Gladiolus took a deep breath. He sat up and took the bowl of soup from the counter despite the nausea in his stomach.
"Don't mention it." Ignis turned on the television.
"Gladio."
It was dark and well into the night, though Gladiolus was still awake. Even if he wanted to sleep, his head ached too much to let him. He blamed it on himself for neglecting his body. It was too late for visitors, but when Gladiolus lifted his head he could make out the outline of a shape in the dark. Said shape reached over to his wall and hit a switch. The room illuminated to reveal a dark haired figure standing in the room.
"Noct. You're back," Gladiolus said.
There was blood on his cheek, Gladiolus noticed. It probably wasn't his, which meant he was fresh from battle. There was a vacant look in his eyes, though Gladiolus couldn't tell if it was from battle or if it meant he knew of Prompto's death. Maybe both. Gladiolus left his bed and stood.
"Yeah. Things are calm for now. Dad doesn't need me anymore. It's been a week, hasn't it?"
Since Prompto died. He didn't need to say it for Gladiolus to know that was what he was asking. Noctis of course knew, so Gladiolus didn't answer. He didn't want to talk about his death.
"Where's his body, Gladio?"
"I-In his room at the palace." The words were hard to say.
"On the seventh day, the soul leaves the body," Noctis explained. "Bahamut comes to collect the souls of the dead then. Prompto will want us to keep him company while he waits."
"I don't think I can."
Gladiolus had heard Prompto occasionally talk about the burial practices of his faith, but that have been before Gladiolus had known he was dying, so he hadn't bothered paying close attention. Afterwards he didn't have the heart to ask. Gladiolus had a hard enough time laying in his bed and functioning. If he had to help with this, he felt like his soul might actually break.
"Prompto would want you to," Noctis pointed out softly.
He would. What could the swordsman say to that? As his lover and the person closest to Prompto during his last days, he had an obligation to make sure his wishes were respected. Gladiolus changed into warmer clothes.
Prompto's body had been left in the room in the courtyard. Gladiolus hadn't known what to do with it, and he wasn't able to turn to anyone else for help. Did he bury it in the courtyard, or would the pathogens in his body infect the soil? Could he even safely move his corpse out of the room?
Gladiolus was thankful Noctis retrieved the corpse. He was told to wait outside the city. Shortly after her arrived Noctis appeared with a flicker of blue light. He had a large black bag in his hands, and there was a can of gasoline under his arm. The swordsman was glad he didn't have to look at the corpse. It wasn't Prompto anymore so he felt no guilt. It would be bloated, blackened, and crawling with maggots.
They were going to burn him. Gladiolus helped Noctis clear the area. The bag with Prompto inside of it was placed in the middle of the clearing. They soaked him in gasoline. Then Noctis handed Gladiolus a lit match, and they watched Prompto burn.
Gladiolus sat down on the grass a safe distance away. He watched the flames roar and crackle. Noctis walked around the cremation saying prayers in Prompto's native language. The prince knew more about both Solheim's burial practices and that of the fugitive's religion than Gladiolus, as was to be expected of a prince. He had to know the beliefs of the kingdom important to Lucis. This included the countries they warred with.
He had filled Gladiolus in as they had prepared the site. If Prompto was back home during a time when there wasn't a plague or a war, he would have a wake. Loved ones would take turns sitting by his dead body keeping his spirit company until Bahamut came. When the plague struck, there were too many dead to give all them such individual devoted attention, so they had shortened it to just the seventh day. On that day, a religious leader would recite prayers. Noctits wasn't that, but hundreds of years ago the Crystal bearer had conducted the cremations for important people. In that way, he was a proper substitute.
Because Noctis had said they were suppose to comfort the dead's spirit, Gladiolus spoke quietly while Noctis was saying his prayers. He told Prompto about how he was glad he was at peace now and that he could be with his family. He briefly talked about how much he missed the blond, but mostly he told him happy things.
Noctis finished and squatted next to Gladiolus. His face looked serious and otherwise void of emotion. Gladiolus didn't know if that meant he was denying the present or had already mourned. Neither of them spoke. Gladiolus couldn't bring himself to breach the barrier Prompto's death had caused. The same could be said for Noctis, but he also had the burden of slaughter on his shoulders. They watched the fire.
Gladiolus's stomach began to churn. With a groan, Gladiolus slouched and clutched it. Noctis looked at him, alarmed.
"Gladio? Are you alright?" he asked fearfully.
Gladiolus forced a smile. "Don't worry about me. I haven't been taking good care of my body, that's all."
Watching his lover burn didn't help.
The swordsman began to heave. Noctis stood. With a groan, Gladiolus turned away from him and and saw Ignis's soup again. Everything ached. He coughed, which made the pain in his head worse. He heard Noctis swear before the prince reappeared in his line of vision and grabbed his shirt.
"Take off your shirt," ordered Noctis.
"What? Noct, what are you going on about?"
"Please, Gladio."
Noctis looked like he was about to start crying. With a curious expression, Gladiolus did so.
There were red bumps on his chest. Gladiolus's heart sank. Tears filled Noctis's eyes. He sat next to Gladiolus and pulled him into a hug.
Gladiolus had caught the plague. He would be dying soon too.
"I'm sorry Gladio! I'm so sorry! This is all my fault!" Noctis apologized.
Gladiolus would be dead soon. His mind was still trying to understand that. He couldn't return home. He wouldn't be around to see his siblings get married. He could never see his family again. He might have gotten Ignis sick. Etro, what if Ignis had the plague now too?
"Noct, don't... Don't worry." The words were forced and meaningless. Gladiolus was only guessing what he was supposed to say.
He wasn't mad. He didn't want Noctis's apology. If this was the cost for loving Prompto, he would have done it all again. Regardless, Noctis sobbed into him. They stayed like that throughout the night as Prompto burned. He hoped Prompto was wrong about his faith. His soul didn't deserve to see this as it left.
Gladiolus didn't return back to Insomnia. Noctis begged him to come live in the palace like Prompto had, but Gladiolus refused to risk the lives of the citizens. Instead, Noctis drove him out to where they had taken care of Prompto weeks ago. The prince made him a tent and left to get supplies. He returned to find that Gladiolus had become delirious. He kept repeating Prompto's name. His body was hot, and the bumps on his chest had started to spread up his neck. The plague wrecked havoc on the swordsman. His neglected body was weak, and the sickness took advantage of his state.
Noctis cared for him until his fever went down the next day at dusk. Gladiolus's fitful sleep became peaceful. He had planned to stay with Gladiolus until the very end, but a phone call from his father called him back to war. Noctis was in no position to refuse. He gathered everything he could think of Gladiolus wanting, from food to comfy furniture to books to read, before leaving.
Gladiolus awoke a day later. His first thought was that everything hurt. He had never been in so much pain before in his life. Just moving took a great amount of energy. He felt like had worked every muscle in his body to exhaustion. His next thought was related to the ache of his heart, and his third thought was that he had the plague.
Etro was indeed cruel if she was going to give him a death sentence when he was still trying to heal.
With a groan, he managed to stand from a luxurious sleeping bag. Strange. He didn't remember getting into it. His last memory had been of Noctis saying he would be right back and leaving to go to a nearby convenience store. There were only bits and pieces of dreams after that.
The tent was well stocked. The food alone was enough to make others jealous and Gladiolus feel guilty. He had no appetite, but he got himself a breakfast bar anyway and checked his phone. The first text was from Noctis.
I'm sorry Gladio. Dad needs me. Take care of yourself, okay? I'll call you when I can.
Gladiolus took a bite of the breakfast bar before replying. He found it was easier than talking.
It's alright, Noct. You don't have to apologize for anything. It's not your fault.
If Noctis was here, then Gladiolus knew he would argue that is was because he brought Prompto into the palace, but it didn't matter. He didn't hold the illness against the prince. He moved on to the next text. It was from Ignis.
Gladio, where are you? The doors unlocked but you're not home. Please tell me you're alright.
Gladio texted back: Yeah, I am. Just went on a camping trip to help clear my head.
He started heaving, his stomach rejecting the food. He was just barely able to get a safe distance from his sleeping bag before he puked. The exertion left him tired and out of breath.
He could see now why Prompto had been so thin.
He spent his days playing on his phone, trying to stay nourished, and sleeping. He kept the radio on constantly, and occasionally it would bring him bits of news. It was like company. Prompto still haunted his dreams, but it was better than the aches and struggles being awake brought. Gladiolus didn't fight it. He was going to die. It was only a question of when. Prompto had lasted months. Gladiolus didn't have the heart to last that long.
The next attack came a couple of days later. It came on suddenly. He had been watching a video on his phone, then there was vomit and half an hour later he was feeling both like he was on fire and was taking an ice bath.
He dreamed Prompto was back in the palace. They took turns trying to shoot soup cans. Prompto hit it every time.
Time passed in a blur. His phone was the only indication he had of time changing, feverish or not. Everyday he felt weaker. Everyday he spent more time sleeping. His face had scars. Gladiolus saw once through his phone camera and hadn't checked again.
The attacks came quicker than they had for Prompto, or maybe it was just breaks of lucidity in a singular one.
"A law has been changed thanks to the work of Ignis Stupeo Scientia," the radio broadcasted. "Before, the king had authority over who his children married. Now they are free to pick. Before you get any ideas ladies, rumor has it that Noctis already has a girl..."
Gladiolus cheered.
His pants didn't fit anymore. Noctis had brought him clothes, but he failed to bring him a belt. Gladiolus used a safety pin to keep them fastened instead. It didn't bother him. There was no one out here he needed to impress.
"The war is over!"
The radio had been repeating that for awhile now.
"The war is over! Lucis is at peace once more! Prince Noctis has vanquished the enemy's army, and we have won! People are celebrating in the streets! The future is bright, and I am honored to bring you this news! Prince Noctis is staying in the enemy territory for the remainder of the week to help finalize..."
Gladiolus's snores interrupted the radio.
Today he couldn't leave his sleeping bag. His throat burned and he wanted to put a blanket on top of himself, but his limbs failed to support his body weight. He stayed as still as possible. Every movement made his sores brush against something, sending searing pain throughout him. He hadn't drank anything in a day. He hadn't eat anything in even longer. When he tried his body would reject it, and the repeated vomiting made the effort futile.
He was reminded of the brief battle he fought in before Noctis sold himself to keep his friend safe. He relived the bullet hitting him over and over, only it's landing location wasn't limited to his arm.
He considered calling his family. He missed the sound of their voices. Too bad he wasn't sure where his phone was. It had been beeping constantly before its battery died.
He was trying to remember a pray to Etro when suddenly his body felt light. His head stopped pounding. He could move again. Even better, he wasn't alone. Outside his tent was a familiar figure with a bandanna on his arm. Gladiolus left his shelter. He didn't even have to say anything to get the blond to turn around.
"Gladio!" He happily yelled.
He hugged the swordsman, who in his joy to see Prompto again lifted him off the ground. They both laughed happily. Prompto was placed back onto his feet, followed by a kiss. It felt good. Gladiolus had missed kissing him.
"Gladio, I'm sorry," Prompto apologized. "I never meant for you to get hurt too."
"Shut it." Gladiolus kissed him again. "What's done is done, and I don't want to hear it."
He was dead. If Prompto was here, then the plague had finally rendered his body a corpse. Prompto smiled happily and took his hand.
"Yeah," he agreed.
The landscape had changed. Now a grassy field stretched out in front of them without any markings to give a sense of direction. Glancing behind him, Gladiolus saw not his tent but more of the field. The change of scenery left him feeling at peace.
"So, is this the afterlife?" Gladiolus asked.
Prompto shrugged. "Don't know. I haven't really moved on yet myself. I waited for you."
Gladiolus knew he no longer had a heart, but he felt it flutter anyway. "Then wherever we go, we go together."
"You know it." Prompto squeezed his hand.
As if on instinct, the two started to walk. Together. They would go together.
Gladiolus had no regrets about his life.
AN:It's done. This is the second multi-chapter story I've finished. The other one was several years ago and much shorter, so I'm really proud of this.
I struggled with writing this chapter, but I'm happy with how it turned out. I've never lost someone really close to me. Thus, it was hard to imagine what Gladiolus would be feeling. I tried not to draw this out, but my fingers wouldn't listen.
I had a lot of fun writing this. This was sort of an experiment in foreshadowing. Gladiolus's fate was really the only way I could see ending this and have it be fulfilling. So yeah. Thanks for sticking with me everyone.
