gladio knows exactly where nyx is going to be tonight, and who he's going to be there with. if his assumptions are correct, then he's most likely at a club in the slums, and while gladio can't say he's totally happy with that decision, a small reminder that nyx isn't a noble settles his overactive imagination and he calms. gladio keeps a hoodie on as he walks, his hands shoved into jacket pockets and turning his phone around a few times in his hands. it's chilly tonight, and idly, gladio wonders if nyx brought a jacket or not.
the neon sign of the club that he and libertus usually haunt has a burnt out letter, reading out s eepless instead of sleepless. gladio pushes his way through the front door and flashes his crownsguard badge to avoid the cover charge, murmuring, "official crown business," to the bouncer who doesn't stop him when he keeps walking. there's a drag queen on the stage lip syncing to a beautiful rendition of a pop song that gladio hates to admit he knows every word to, and as much as he'd like to stay and watch her perform, he knows he needs to set his eyes on nyx.
it isn't that he doesn't want nyx to tell libertus, it's just that... he wants to be there. properly meet his friends. he'd texted nyx earlier that he was coming, but he's pretty sure his boyfriend's phone is dead, because he hasn't read or responded to it, and both of those things are unusual for him. gladio stops by the bar to describe nyx and the bartender points him out back, saying he left with some girl.
a girl? not crowe. maybe crowe?
gladio weaves with a grace unfitting of a man his size to the back door, and sure enough, there's nyx, standing on the other corner of the building. gladio breaks into a grin and he goes to call his name, inhaling, but the word is choked in his throat when he hears a soft love you, too, and their lips meet, for a gentle kiss that has him freeze where he is.
is this how it's going to be?
gladio pulls his hood up over his head just as crowe makes eye contact with him, and he doesn't bother letting it linger, whirling around on his heel and walking with the strength and speed of a king's shield back around the building, in the direction of the audi he'd left parked in a dimly lit back corner. he doesn't need it getting broken into, but now, that's the least of his worries.
as he walks, powerful and fast, he feels anger bubbling in his chest, starting with a pounding heart that sends boiling blood flowing through his entire body. there's a victim ahead, a trash can that's been freshly emptied, and gladio lashes out silently by lifting it, throwing it against the brick building it sits innocently next to, and kicking it back in the direction of nyx and crowe. at that action, his body only seeks more fuel to the fire as gladio begins to see red, to breathe short, to shake and tremble as the adrenaline becomes his only fuel. the usual calm and collected gladio who takes slow breaths to calm his anger is gone. the gladio that takes long walks, the gladio that goes boxing, the gladio that counts to ten is gone. the gladio that levels his head, remembers to give the benefit of the doubt, he's long gone. instead, gladio is nothing but his anger, his heart shattered in his chest with the betrayal of the man he'd nearly confessed his love to.
but instead of that, he's trying to put as much distance between them as possible.
how could he have been so blind, so stupid? how could he have thought so much of him so fearlessly, so truthfully and openly? how could he? how could he? how could he? the answer isn't clear, but the solution is-- never again. as gladio kicks more trash cans while he goes, pushing people out of his way and even going so far as to punch in the glass windowpane of an abandoned building, he's building walls, cinderblock and mortar, tall and thick around his heart. he's had glass walls before, just foggy and unclear, but he knows now that it's never been more crystal. he understands ignis, for this moment. he has to draw lines in the sand, or, fuck, build walls on it, apparently, walls so tall they'll never be scaled, so thick they can never be destroyed.
gladio makes it to the audi and takes a deep breath, the first one since he'd walked away, and only here and now does he realize he's crying. they aren't tears of sadness, ignis had taught him this. tears of anger are just as valid of a display of anger as violence, and gladio takes half a second to remember this.
his tall frame bends at the waist, pressing his forehead down against his forearms over the roof of the car. it's cold, a cool reminder that helps the heat in his blood simmer a little less.
he supposes it's a good thing he hadn't dropped the L word yet. easier to let go.
