Gladiolus Amicitia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
piercetheheart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lifeaftr2018-05-08 11:03 pm
piercetheheart) wrote in lifeaftr2018-05-08 11:03 pm
Anywhere the struggle is great
Who: Gladio, residents of Isle 1, and anyone else that shows up
What: Guys, GUYS.... shower time
When: Evening of May 8
Where: Just offshore of the Cove on Islet 1
Warnings: Gratuitous use of a wet Gladio
Over the last few days, since arriving really, Gladio has been doing his damnedest to keep track of all the things he needs to do, keeping track of all the projects that need tending to. It really is something of a miracle that they've gotten by for so long with so little.
His very first project is to make tanks for fresh water. There are two and it does not take terribly long to build the actual tanks. Prompto helps him gather wood and in those first few days he has enough animal fat to melt down and protect the wood of the base for the one he means to be an actual storage for drinking water. Both tanks are squares, roughly 4x4 cubes built on the edge of the grassy area that slopes down to the beach so he did not have to build them on frames. The first lined with clay and filled with sea water (for now at least). The second was split in half, the lower compartment for filtered water, the upper awaiting layers he was still working on.
Both had bamboo pipes that fed out, the shower tank already set up so that one could stand at the bottom of the hill, beneath the the output above and... well... shower. Gladio had already moved a few baskets of gravel and stone over so that the area beneath the shower was no longer sand and would not wash away as easily. The bar of soap that had come to him in his knapsack was sitting on a rock he'd dug into the hillside as something of a shelf. Now that everything was assembled it was time to test his work.
The first moment under the spray had him cursing, the water far colder than he'd have liked. Which had him marching back up to the top of the hill, poking around at the violently smoking, extremely hot mound of mud where he was making charcoal to collect a few stones. Makeshift wooden tongs to pick them up, far too hot to handle with his hands, and immediately upon dropping them into the shower tank the water began roiling around the stones, spreading the heat into the water.
"Perfect!" And then he was running back down to the base of the hill to bask under the spray of warm water, leather pants and boots long since cast aside and now his boxers sticking to him but he wasn't quite ready to scandalize anyone yet.
What: Guys, GUYS.... shower time
When: Evening of May 8
Where: Just offshore of the Cove on Islet 1
Warnings: Gratuitous use of a wet Gladio
Over the last few days, since arriving really, Gladio has been doing his damnedest to keep track of all the things he needs to do, keeping track of all the projects that need tending to. It really is something of a miracle that they've gotten by for so long with so little.
His very first project is to make tanks for fresh water. There are two and it does not take terribly long to build the actual tanks. Prompto helps him gather wood and in those first few days he has enough animal fat to melt down and protect the wood of the base for the one he means to be an actual storage for drinking water. Both tanks are squares, roughly 4x4 cubes built on the edge of the grassy area that slopes down to the beach so he did not have to build them on frames. The first lined with clay and filled with sea water (for now at least). The second was split in half, the lower compartment for filtered water, the upper awaiting layers he was still working on.
Both had bamboo pipes that fed out, the shower tank already set up so that one could stand at the bottom of the hill, beneath the the output above and... well... shower. Gladio had already moved a few baskets of gravel and stone over so that the area beneath the shower was no longer sand and would not wash away as easily. The bar of soap that had come to him in his knapsack was sitting on a rock he'd dug into the hillside as something of a shelf. Now that everything was assembled it was time to test his work.
The first moment under the spray had him cursing, the water far colder than he'd have liked. Which had him marching back up to the top of the hill, poking around at the violently smoking, extremely hot mound of mud where he was making charcoal to collect a few stones. Makeshift wooden tongs to pick them up, far too hot to handle with his hands, and immediately upon dropping them into the shower tank the water began roiling around the stones, spreading the heat into the water.
"Perfect!" And then he was running back down to the base of the hill to bask under the spray of warm water, leather pants and boots long since cast aside and now his boxers sticking to him but he wasn't quite ready to scandalize anyone yet.
no subject
Look, she's willing to die for him. She just doesn't know Gladio is the last person who would put him in any danger.
Once Rory is settled, Ignis makes his way over to the shower, stopping to remove his shirt, shoes and socks before they have a chance to get wet. The pants can stay. They're due a washing anyway.
"All right, show me this wonder you've created," Ignis has a smile on his face when he speaks, but Gladio isn't the only one who has tension coiling under the surface of his words and actions. The Advisor lets his arms settle loosely across his chest as he speaks, but his right hand moves to rub at his left shoulder, unconsciously drawing attention to the faint patterning of white lines that still cover his left arm, shoulder, and the left side of his neck. The remains of the burns he got from the Oolicks are fading, but in the meantime, they still match unsettlingly well with the scars he has from wearing the ring.
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He gives Iggy a moment to undress, finishing up washing himself. His hair is still a bit of a mess but he’ll get to that shortly. Gladio flicks the water from his eyes, grins up at Ignis, and immediately feels his heart stutter in his chest. It’s not just the scars, scars that he knows shouldn’t be there, that are more proof of the dangers these islands pose than anything they’ve said. The trailing lines of burns scattered out from beneath his fingers, spread over his chest.
Exactly how Cor looked, barely able to keep his feet, marching bravely to meet his doom. Burns fresh and angry under his fingers where Ignis’ were older, fading. Two people he cared for, both wounded when he should have been there to protect them.
Cor was gone, there was nothing he could do for the Marshal now. But Ignis...
“About five steps, veer right. You’ll go from sand to river rocks.” His tone was more somber than it had been a moment ago and he wants to touch Ignis, reassure himself that he’s really there, still safe and strong as always but the urge feels too close, too intimate, and he’s not sure he can handle it. Not right yet.
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Above and not far away, Rory ruffles her feathers, picking up on Ignis' confusion. Still, for the moment she remains where she is. Watching. Protecting.
Having reached his destination, Ignis ignores the ruffling he hears from the firebird, and instead reaches out for Gladio, expecting his friend to take his hand or arm in order to lead him into the shower space, "The only downside to all these improvements is that I'm going to have to rework my mental map. I should really start using my cane again for a little bit. Once you're all done, you'll help me map it all out again, won't you?"
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"Yeah. You know I will." Ignis holds his hand out and, despite how much he's certain it's a horrible idea, Gladio takes it without hesitation. He moves behind Ignis slightly, one hand settling on the small of his back to gently guide him forward to the center of the stones where one large flat rock lays directly under the downpour. It wasn't done with Ignis' disability in mind, per se, but he'd realized along the way that the positioning might help.
"There. That's center." Softly murmured behind him, not too loud, not this close. His hearing was so much more sensitive now, Gladio remembered that much at least. Not that he'd allowed himself to be so close in a long time.
He shifted the hold he had on Ignis' hand, cupping his wrist, one finger pressed into his palm to point him in the right direction but not covering his hand, letting him feel for himself. Up to the bamboo pipe that let the water flow down, up further, a little higher, here where the junction is. To reach up higher with Ignis' hand in his he has to step closer, Ignis' back against his chest for a moment.
Why was he doing this to himself? It was all so twisted up in his head. He'd ignored all of it for so long, so well that he hadn't even realized what was there until the Darkness came and he can ignore it again. He has to, he knows that but he wants to wrap his arms around Ignis, to cling and to make sure he's really as okay as he insists he is. And that's the worst part, Gladio knows he's not. He never is. He's always pushing, forcing more and more out of himself and one of these days it's going to be too much and something's going to happen. Something like the scars that weave down his left side and Gladio can feel the texture of them against his chest and it hurts.
Why won't Iggy ever just let him help? At least... when it really matters.
"There's a stopper here... " Down from the junction, the dip where the original bamboo pipe ends, the thinner, smoother texture of the whittled down stopper, the end where it flares wide again. And as their hands reach the end Gladio helps him twist the stopper into place, the water abruptly cutting off to a faint trickle.
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He turns his face into the water, a bubble of laughter trapped in his throat by the threat of getting water into his mouth should he open it to let the laughter out. Ignis raises his free hand in an attempt to brush his water laden hair from his eyes. Not that it really matters; it's more habit than anything and when the attempt fails, he gives up, focusing his attention on the soft voice near his ear and the warm presence at his back. Unconsciously, he leans into that solid, safe form, tilting his head back in another unconscious action as if he were following the path of their joined hands with his eyes. His fingers slide over the pipes mapping out length, size, and texture so he can create as accurate a mental image as possible. How much pressure does it take to halt the water's flow? How far does the stopper turn?
How nice is it to have that familiar, callused hand against his own?
The question slips into his thoughts without Ignis realizing it, but it doesn't take long to make itself the only thing he can think about. He knows Gladio has been parted from the Ignis he knows for longer than he has been parted from the Gladio he knows, and yet, Ignis suddenly feels the weight of each of those days like they were an eternity. As focused as he can be on duty and even knowing what he knows about Noctis' fate, Ignis still doesn't understand how his future self could have let his other half--his balance--drift so far away. Look at all the damage it's done to Gladio. How much damage has he done to himself as well?
His head drops then and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. As close as he is, though Gladio should have no problem hearing him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I hurt you so much."
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He's getting better at compartmentalizing. At least he's trying to, learning and reminding himself when to step away. It's been a week and he's slowly relearning how to interact with his friends like things hadn't changed... like it was just... normal again.
But Ignis bows his head and Gladio flinches, wonders what he's done to give himself away this time. Sometimes he thinks he'd have done well to pay more attention when Ignis and his father had tried to teach him how to keep up appearances for political reasons. Maybe then he wouldn't keep fucking things up, letting Ignis see into the fractures he tries so hard to hide.
Uncertain what should be natural and what is too much because it all feels like too much, like he's drowning in lies and things he'd thought he'd hardened himself to years ago seeping into all those cracks left behind by the darkness. Slowly, cautiously he brings Ignis' hand down, turns his own slightly, shifts, starts to thread their fingers together and his breath catches in his chest. He can't do it, can't just lean into him and hold his hand and pretend like it doesn't matter, like it's all okay, just like this.
So he pauses, fingers stuttering against Ignis' knuckles, those soft words sharp and painful, guilt driving them deeper and he lets out his breath, slow and shaky. He bows his head as well, cheek falling to lean against Ignis' bare shoulder, his hair loose and wet, falling over both of them.
"You didn't." Choked and strained and so close that he can feel the brush of skin against his lips as he speaks, thinks briefly of how easy it would be to lay a gentle kiss on Ignis' throat, forces out another harsh breath, pushing the thought away as quickly as he can but not before another sharp lance of pain, the kind that makes his chest ache and his eyes burn.
Thick fingers finally tangle with Ignis' more delicate ones, clenching tightly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, or at least he hopes so. "It's not your fault." Especially not this Ignis' fault. It was his fault for letting things get so jumbled, for not being to separate what he wanted for himself from his duty, for ruining everything they had because he couldn't just accept that there would never be more.
Not again. Never again.
"I'm just a damn fool." He tries to push out a laugh but it's ragged and painful to his own ears and when he clenches his eyes closed his lashes are damp and hot and all he can do is pray that nothing falls, that he can keep himself in check that much at least, that Ignis never has to know how deep some of those wounds go.
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Ignis draws their clasped hands in to rest over his heart, free hand coming to join them so he can rub his fingers soothingly over the back of the Shield's large hand. It's more than a little frightening to acknowledge how much darkness and pain fill the chasm that now yawns between them. After so long living in the darkness, Ignis didn't think he would feel fear of it again, but this darkness is different. It slinks into his bones, cold, the very opposite of the fire that once burned through his veins.
How does he stop this darkness from eating his friend alive when even standing on the edge of it like he does now scares him so?
A shiver threatens to run through him and it's while he's fighting it back that he notices the warmth dripping upon his shoulder. For a moment, his mind refuses to acknowledge what it must be, but he doesn't allow himself denial of it for long. How can he deny the pain that flows from his friend like water through a cracked vase?
"Oh, Gladio..." There is sorrow in those soft words. Regret of things that haven't yet happened to one and happened far too recently to another. Carefully, he turns to face his friend, hands freeing themselves so he can wrap them around the taller man's neck to pull him into an embrace.
"It's only us now," Ignis' voice shakes, emotion threatening to break through at any moment, "and I won't tell anyone. Lean on me again. Please. You aren't alone anymore."
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The words hit him like a sledgehammer, so many years of loneliness compounded into one moment of weakness, the careful shell he's built for himself fracturing further and he gasps softly. Once he stops holding his breath, fighting desperately to keep his body in check his breath comes faster, near panicked.
He doesn't want to break down here, out in the open where anyone or anything could come up on them. He doesn't want to fall apart at all, so many years of keeping everything carefully restrained making the sting of tears and the thick feel of wool in his throat foreign and frightening.
Giving into the emotions, surrendering to it all was dangerous, he knew that. But he was increasingly worried that he didn't have that choice anymore. Every moment he couldn't reign his body back into his control was another uptick in his fears. But then Ignis' arms are around him, a proper hug for the first time in longer than he could recall, soft reassurances on the adviser's lips.
"You aren't alone anymore."
Even after a week of it, it was hard to accept when it's all he's known for so long but from Ignis' lips here like this, it's enough to shatter his defenses, his next too-fast breath coming out as something thicker and rougher than a sob, something deeper that wrenched from his gut and had him curling his arms around his friend's waist.
"Ig-nis..." Muffled syllables sobbed into his shoulder, the tears flowing freely now and he no longer has any say in what his body and mind have decided need to be vented.
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Tears answer tears and for once Ignis doesn't try to hold them back. His fingers carefully weave up into Gladio's tangled hair, working through knots to find the Shield's scalp, trying to massage out even a little of the stress that has turned his friend's muscles to steel cords.
Once Ignis stood in a place similar to where Gladio stands. Once he tried to pack away all the emotions he hid from the world. Packed them into boxes. Shoved them into corners and behind doors in his mind that he never meant to open again, but Altissia cracked the doors and upended the boxes. Every time he thought he was making progress, he found he was really back at square one. Going back home? Remembering the truth? Being cut off from his senses in the dark and being able to do nothing but think? He started to face those emotions then. He started to heal little bit by little bit.
It's the true gift this place gives them. A gift that Gladio needs even more than Ignis did.
"I know it probably didn't seem that way," his voice shakes despite his best efforts. He wants to be strong for Gladio right now, but for men like them sometimes the true show of strength is to let their weakness show. "All that time I--he--pushed you away. I need you to know that you were always in our heart. There is no way you could ever leave it."
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It was all such a godsdamned mess and he didn't know what to do, how he could make any of it turn out better than it had before. If saying something sooner might have convinced him... if the rift between them would only get larger if he spoke.
Did any of it matter if he was going to die as soon as he returned?
And then what's meant to be a reassurance and somewhere Gladio knows that. It's strange, having that knowledge and having something hot and vicious over-ride it, force the importance of it out of his mind in favor of focusing on the hurt, the pain that sears so hot in his heart it can't be an accident.
"You don't know that." Thick and rough, and he fights to swallow around another sob. "You CAN'T know that!!" Gradually increasing in volume though his voice is ragged with tears even as he jerks his head back, hissing in pain as he yanks his tangled hair free from Ignis' hands.
"You can't just say shit like that when you don't know-" There are still tears on his cheeks and there's something wild and panicked in his expression and his tone. Anger hot and fierce and familiar, safer than the things that make his heart ache and his hands move to Ignis' sides, pushing him back a step, giving himself room to breathe. "You don't understand a single fucking thing!" The words rasped out harsh and accusatory.
How dare he try to comfort him when he's the one that rejected him in the first place?!
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Immediately, he pulls himself back into a seated position, arms shaking as he plants his palms against the stone. He looks up at Gladio again, eyes still wide, words lost somewhere between his chest and mouth. Perhaps it is best he can say nothing when his words of comfort had caused...this. Perhaps he is wrong. He was wrong in Altissia. He failed Noctis then. Why shouldn't he fail Gladio now?
Ignis' breath catches in this throat, a sob choking him, and the very moment that choked sob leaves his mouth, a avian scream fills the air.
Rory! How had he forgotten her?
He tries to pull himself to his knees, arm outstretched to her, but when he tries to find his voice to calm her, it won't come.
Another angry shriek fills the air and then he feels nothing but warmth as she sets all her feathers alight...
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The ache in his chest sharpens, anger and pain and regret, so much regret, so many years of mistakes burdened on his shoulders.
It isn't until Ignis is moving again that Gladio is able to pull himself up out of the deepening spiral of regret and disgust and all the things he's done so wrong for so long and-
He doesn't make a conscious decision to move, doesn't think about where he's going or what's happening. Nearly two decades of training telling his body what to do long before his mind is consulted. That screech means danger, the fear on Ignis' face (fear that Gladio is terrified might be directed at himself) the rising temperature all mean a call to action.
"IGNIS!" He drops to one knee in front of him using his body to block in Ignis' front, one knee planted on the stones beside him, the other foot braced on the other side. There's the sharp shatter snap of the armiger and a metal clang as the second cry rings out, the cool press of Gladio's shield at Ignis' back, Gladio's arms boxing him in,drawing the shield in so that it meets the top of Gladio's head where he is hunched over above Ignis. There's gaps, certainly, but they are few and Ignis' face and torso are completely protected, Gladio's body serving as much as a shield as the actual weapon at his back.
The heat flares up around them and Gladio grits his teeth, tears still leaking traitorously from his eyes and the smell of burning hair is thick and choking on the air. He can hear the rumble of daemons behind them, the screech of the firebird mingling with the chittering of Arachnes, the wet sucking sounds of the stones shifting in the sand that of flan closing in on them even as they fight to find their way around the fallen corpse of the great beast Cerberus. The thundering of his pulse in his ears the steps of giants.
His breath came faster, another screech, another surge of heat, a grunt of pain but he refused to move, the smell turning to char and ash just like all of Insomnia and when he finally forces his eyes open all he can see is the top of Ignis' head and the darkness around them, even the sun overhead forgotten in that one moment of blinding terror. Cor, falling honorable as always, Ignis' scars... Ignis burning too, burning for him and he dropped one hand from his shield to wrap an arm around Ignis' shoulders, dragging him in against his chest, curling himself defensively around Ignis' head. "No, no... no no no." A desperate chant as he braced for another blow.
[CW: Mention of burns]
For a moment, flame and water try to draw his mind back to Altissia, but Ignis puts a quick stop to that. He can't drift right now. Not when it's his fault Aurora's attacking in the first place. She and Gladio wish to protect him so much. They shouldn't be fighting each other!
"Rory!" Ignis finally finds his voice, though it is softer than he wants and he has to stop and clear his throat before beginning again, fingers curling against Gladio's chest as he calls out as loudly as he can, "Aurora! I'm fine! Go back to the cottage!"
At first, the firebird doesn't seem convinced. She aborts her next dive, but still circles warily above them, calling out uncertainly.
"Now, Aurora!" Ignis hates how sharp his voice must be, but he has to end this. "Go!"
Rory lets out another cry, but breaks off and finally heads back toward the cottage. Ignis sighs in relief when the heat of her flames vanishes. His hands flatten against his Gladio's chest and he tilts his head up in an effort to catch the Shield's attention. Finally able to focus on his friend fully, it's then that Ignis notices the tightening grip on him and the one word Gladio chants like a desperate prayer. With the certainty of one whose been in the same place, the terrible knowledge that Gladio's no longer here with him hits Ignis. Oh, they may be together, but in Gladio's head it's a different they, in a different place. The ruins of Insomnia, no doubt. The very thought makes his heart shatter in his chest, each unsteady breath that passes his lips jarring the pieces painfully.
It's a struggle since even more than before he doesn't want Gladio to think he's pulling away, but eventually Ignis frees his hands so he can reach out and cradle his friend's tear-stained face between shaking palms. Will Gladio even be able to hear him? There is no way to know except to try.
"Gladiolus, it's over. I'm all right," his voice is soft as he leans in close enough to Gladio that his lips practically brush the Shield's skin. As he continues, he pulls magic into himself so he can cast Regroup over them both to heal the burns Gladio's sustained protecting him.
"Come back to me now. I need you to come back to me."
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It's the cool, sweet relief of Ignis' power washing over him that makes him gasp, jerking in the other man's hands. Slowly his gaze refocuses on the here and now, on Ignis' face so very close to his own, the sun shining down around them, the soft sound of the waves and the trickle of water from the tank above them. He blinks, tilts his head slightly, confused. He has to take a moment to reconcile where he is with what he thought was happening. It's hard and he's not entirely sure what did happen but Ignis is here and safe and alive and the relief that knowledge causes has him near sobbing again.
He releases the hold on his shield entirely and he's so unaccustomed to it that it falls to the stones with a thud instead of vanishing back to the armiger. Both arms close around Ignis again, pulling him in close, one hand resting over the back of his head to urge him to lean into Gladio's shoulder even as the Shield turns to press his lips against Iggy's temple. Relief, dizzy and giddy pushes something that is nearly a laugh out of him, though it is swallowed quickly by a sob.
Now that he's started though, now that he's seen what he's capable of and the terrifying thought that he could one day make Ignis afraid of him, he can't stop crying, soft sobs he tries to stifle against Ignis' shoulder. "I-I'm... so sorry."
no subject
Part of Ignis wants to break free of Gladio's hold so he can shelter the Shield as his friend so recently sheltered him, but he gets the impression that right now Gladio needs to hold more than be held, so he doesn't resist the pull on his head or body, though he does free the arm trapped between himself and Gladio's chest so he can weave his hand back into his friend's hair, fingers picking up where they left off not long ago.
"You don't need to apologize, or if you feel you must, know you are already forgiven. I was just surprised and worried," his free hand settles itself against the side of Gladio's face, fingers gently wiping away the tears as they fall. "Rory has always been protective of me. From the day I found her as a little, ash covered ball of feathers. She just needs time to learn that you will never willingly harm me."
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How could Ignis be so sure he'd never hurt him? He'd hurt Prompto all those years ago, long before he started losing time, losing track of where and when he was.
Things he couldn't do here any more than he could at home. It takes a long moment for him to pull himself together, drag himself out of the jumbled spiral of thoughts and memories. It's not long enough, it's not enough to let go of any of the darkness he's been holding inside, but it's all he will allow himself.
Finally, he draws away from his friend, sucking in a breath, trying his damnedest not to think about the rest of that sentence. Not to dwell on what he could have done.
"Not... the kinda shower you were hoping for, huh? Shit, Iggy... I'm sorry." He tries to laugh, to dismiss it all just like that. For both of their sakes.
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Yeah, no. Sorry big guy. Ignis knows the signs of a person pulling away and locking off emotion so they don't have to deal with it. You don't get to escape that easily. It's not for both of their sakes when only one person is kept from hurting.
"Lets talk about it. Where you went. What caused you to go there," he bows his head slightly, hands dropping to rest on Gladio's shoulders. "I know I'm asking a lot, but this can be a place of healing if you only let it be. There's time here to deal with everything we didn't have time to back home. Please, don't push me away and don't let me push you away. What happened back home doesn't have to happen here."
Quite honestly, Ignis isn't sure if he can handle it happening here. He's waited so long for Gladio to join them again. Maybe it's selfish, but he can't just let him drift away now, especially when he's so hurt so deep inside.
"I'm not afraid of you and I'll never be afraid of you. Please, talk to me."
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Fingers come up to push his hair back, damp and curling and unruly and that's when he realizes his hands are shaking, trembling from the surge of adrenaline with no real outlet.
"You-" He chews lightly at the inside of his lip, sighs heavily. "It's not something you need to know." Everything about their home, his world... all that knowledge can do is hurt Ignis. It helps nothing, stops nothing. If anything it will just be one more reason for his friend to ruin himself.
"I'm not going to just..." He blinks up at Ignis, shifts slightly so he can catch the edge of his shield with his toes, drag it close enough that he can settle it against his side, facing the cottages. He tries to make it casual but the fact that the shield rests over his shoulder, hiding him from the prying eyes of passersby says more about his mental state than he wants to admit.
"There's nothing you can do, Ignis." Utterly resigned to his fate and that of the world.
no subject
In the end, he settles into a sitting position near to, but not touching, the Shield. It will have to do until he manages to learn more about what is going on in Gladio's head.
"This is about helping you to deal with pain you are long overdue help dealing with. You can't keep all of this inside you, and I can't help you if you do. There are things I've been told about the future--about the darkness--but none of it is enough to really know why you're hurting so badly," he reaches a hand out in Gladio's direction. "I need you to help me help you. It hurts me so much to know you're in this much pain."
Especially, considering he knows his older self is responsible for a big chunk of it.
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Especially when Ignis could ruin him so easily with any one of them.
And that's almost more frightening, knowing that somewhere, deep down, there's part of him that doesn't trust Ignis not to hurt him. It would be so easy and he honestly doesn't know how he'd survive it a second time. It's easier, safer, to keep everything closed and locked away.
Ignis wants him to just lay himself bare like it's magically going to fix something when he knows nothing will change, he'll only make himself more vulnerable. And Ignis doesn't want to know what things have been like, the depths of the darkness they've been living in. Maybe some part of him wants to protect Ignis from suffering with the same knowledge he has, maybe he just, selfishly, doesn't want to live it again to tell him.
But the fact that he keeps pushing only sparks that deep well of anger in him again, he doesn't yell but his tone is sharp.
"Cor's dead." But that's the first time he's really admitted it aloud and as angry as he is the words leave him like a punch to the gut, all of the air rushing out of him and he looks helplessly up at Ignis for a moment. How can this help?
"He- Noct was-" How does he explain what happened without telling him all the things that happened before. "It should've been me." Is all he manages to choke out. Not crying so much as just not able to find enough air.
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And recently. From the way Gladio speaks, it has to have been recent.
He swallows hard and lets his head drop. If Ignis could see, he'd be looking at the rocks that make up the shower floor, pulling out patterns, using that to sort out the mess in his mind, but now all he has is darkness to look into. Emptiness that doesn't hold any of the answers he's seeking.
What is he doing? Does he really think he can do anything to help Gladio when he's been through so much loss and pain? Loss and pain Ignis can't even fully comprehend because he hasn't lived it yet. Used to being teasingly called the group's mother, he suddenly feels like a lost child. So far back in the timeline. So much everyone else has lived through he hasn't.
Unconsciously, he wraps his arms around himself, fighting back a shiver. Every time he thinks he's found a way to drive back the helplessness that's been his constant companion since Altissia, it finds a way back into his heart and mind.
Would it be better of Gladio talked to Noctis about this? Noctis has been through it all. Died and come back by some strange twist of fate, but if Gladio won't burden Ignis with this, he knows the Shield will never burden his King with it either.
"Noct doesn't want any of us to die for him. You know that. Not even you; no matter what the role of Shield demands. He would rather we all lived for him instead."
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"Ig..." There's a moment of hesitation, fear and uncertainty, and then he shifts the shield aside, holding his hand out to the other man. "C'mere." It was so fucked up, being so uncertain about something as simple as offering comfort. He hated that there was so much doubt when it came to Ignis. Sometimes, if he let himself forget, they could just be friends as though nothing had happened, just like the old days.
But there was so much history and it was all so charged. But none of it was Ignis' fault and Gladio tried, he was trying so hard, to give this man here with him a clean slate. He didn't want to blame him for the actions of a man he was not yet and may not ever be.
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It's the first angry thought that forces its way into Ignis' mind. Noctis shouldn't have to die. Neither should have Cor, Regis, Clarus, or any of the other thousands if not millions of innocents that were lost over the years of darkness. On top of that, Ardyn should never have been driven to the point he has been. He should not have been cast aside and so kindly nurtured into the madness that is his curse today. The man he was should never have been murdered by the Astrals and denied even basic human dignity afterward.
So many should nots. All of it Bahamut's fault.
Ignis says none of this to Gladio, though. Not yet. This isn't the time. Instead, he takes his friend's hand and allows himself to be pulled into those familiar comforting arms. Tears prick at his eyes again, but he does his best to hold them back. Whether they are tears of mourning for Cor or tears of frustration at his own helplessness, Ignis has cried enough today.
And, honestly, he has so much less right to cry than Gladio does.
"I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to lift some of this pain from your heart."
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What matters is that, despite all odds, they're here and they're together and Gladio doesn't ever want to let him go again. A gentle squeeze, one hand shifting down to curl his fingers around Iggy's. He can't bring himself to care how much he gives away in this moment, pressing another fleeting kiss to Ignis' hair.
"Me too..." The first admission that the burden he carries is that, at least, and he buries his face into Ignis shoulder. "Just stay."