"Just like..myself or whatever." He blamed himself. His parents blamed him for everything he was. Needy and clinging, always wanting more than they could give.

"They didn't like me. It's...not a big deal." Prompto tried to brush it off. "And they worked far away so they didn't really have to see me much. Left me in Insomnia. It's...just how it is. It's not their fault."

He shrugged. "And when I turned eighteen..." He mimed sort of like an explosion. "Poof. Gone. Told me to get out of the house and whatever. It's not anything."