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The gang had been stuck inside the Lucky 38 for about a week now. It was one of the hottest weeks in summer, and the New Vegas heat was unrelenting. There was no use in even attempting to scavenge for supplies on the outskirts of town. The desert heat would bounce off of the broken, black asphalt and sear straight into your skin. Your emotions had been getting the better of you; irritability and irrationality were your two shiny-new personality traits. Even so, your loyal companions didn’t seem to notice the change in your morale. Veronica was too busy tinkering with any appliance she could find within the hotel, and she would often find books that she thought Arcade would enjoy. As for Raul and Cass, they passed the time with endless games of Caravan, which often ignited a friendly argument between the two.
You had made it a tradition for everyone to sit down at the long dining room table for meals. But tonight, you had relented that decision. You loved them dearly, but right now, any form of interaction would be enough to ignite your short fuse. Yet, Veronica insisted that you tried her gecko steak, and you couldn’t turn down her puppy-dog enthusiasm.
Sitting down, you focused your eyes downward at your plate, gaze avoiding direct eye contact with any of them. Their conversations became an audible blur to your preoccupied and tired mind: Cass teased Raul about a re-match, Arcade was buzzing about the latest fruit he had extracted and so on and so forth. As you tilted your head upwards to brush a piece of hair behind your ear, Boone caught your gaze. He had sat himself directly across the table from you, without you even noticing. His arms stayed immobile at his sides, with both hands in his lap – a stark comparison to the other feasting companions surrounding you. Something about the way he looked at you, made your chest stir. After a brief awkward silence between you two, Boone finally spoke, “I don’t like how things have been dragging on lately. We need to get back on the road, just you and me. We need to get back to killing legionaires.” The rest of the gang had quieted their chit-chat in order to hear what Boone had to say (he didn’t speak often, and when he did, it was usually important). The dark bags under your eyes felt like they protruded, your back was hunched in obvious exhaustion as you continued to silently listen to Boone speak, “Y/N, I mapped out the next hot spot for a possible legion raiding party, if we cross the valley overnight, we could spring a surprise attack without----” You abruptly stood up as you slammed both of your palms against the hard oak table. Boone quickly shifted his gaze to stare up at you. Your voice came out more violent than you intended, as you interrupted him, “Look Boone, I know. I KNOW, ALRIGHT? You think I like being locked away in this god-awful antique of a hotel? You think I enjoy sitting around here like a fucking dead radscorpion rotting in the sun? Well, newsflash! I DON’T. I want to get back to murdering those legion bastards as much as you do, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So, if you could get off my fucking back for one second I would---”
The companions silently stared up at you in shock. Arcade raised an eyebrow, and Veronica was staring up at you with shock – while mouth hanging open, fork in hand, midway through her bite of meat. But Boone, his expression remained stoic. He crossed his arms and remained silent. You cleared your throat, and briskly left the suite, towards the elevator.
Regret and guilt had quickly swelled inside your upper chest. Where would you go? You felt so embarrassed due to your little outburst, that you couldn’t bring yourself to be in the same suite as Boone. As the elevator rode downwards, you decided to choose a random floor as your hideout. The long hallway of the corridor echoed with your heavy breaths, as you nonchalantly ran your fingers over each door number you passed. One of the rooms near the end was unlocked, and it creaked as you pushed it open. The carpet was cheaper compared to the elaborate flooring of the top-floor suite, and the furniture seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. You made your way into the tiny bathroom and gazed at your reflection in the rusty mirror.
Christ- how could you be so unstable? What had gotten into you lately? Was it really just the heat to blame? Boone had been your first friend since you had woken up into this new life, and he has been faithfully by your side for almost an entire year now. Of course, you developed a small crush on the man, who couldn’t? The security of his quiet but unrelenting devotion to your companionship, was enough to make anyone fall head over heels for him, right? Your hands began to tremble as your grip tightened around the edges of the ceramic sink. You could hear your heartbeat pound inside of your ears, as you felt moisture start to burn upon your face. It had been a good, long time since you had last cried. In a world where everyone seemed to have a hard life, you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to dwell in self-pity. You had committed your existence to helping the people of the Mojave. And fuck – Boone had been there right behind you for all of it. He had saved your back countless times; whenever there was a critter sneaking up behind you, or you took a step too close to the edge of a cliff, he had been your stability. The thought of him being a broken man was far from the truth, he silently supported you, and you had just cussed him out over dinner like an angry teenager. Your sobs grew heavier and louder, and you felt thankful that you were on a lower floor away from your friends. The NCR, the people of Freeside, The Followers, they had all began to idolize you. This toll of being a perfect role model to these people had insidiously snuck up on you. How could you be perfect? What made you qualified in the slightest to care for all of these people? You couldn’t even remember your past, your name, or your previous identity. You were nothing but a false icon.
These thoughts invaded your mind as you continued your self-loathing session, in the tiny hotel bathroom. You never seemed to have time to prioritize your mental state. Someone always needed saving, or rescuing, or freeing. So now, as a result of your lack of self-care, your stress had come crashing down in the form of a slight break down.
Boone was worried about you. Anytime you decided to go anywhere without him he would worry. Of course, he would never verbalize that, but he kept his feelings to himself. No sense in sharing them with anyone anyways. He almost felt ashamed of these feelings he had for you. He didn’t deserve Carla, and he didn’t deserve you. Boone knew that you were still somewhere within the confines of the Lucky 38; the heat outside was unbearable. So, he had excused himself from the table, thanked Veronica for the (burnt) meal, and told them that he was off to do a patrol of the building. Arcade rolled his eyes and snarked underneath his breath, “Lover’s quarrel.” Veronica giggled in response and Boone shot the pair a death glare as he boarded the elevator.
As he scanned each hallway of the building, he thought of his late-wife Carla. What would she think of him now? Pining for another like he was. After he had received redemption for Bitter Springs, and protected them from the Legion raid, he slowly began to forgive himself for his life’s tragedies. It was extremely slow self-forgiveness, but he could feel it, nonetheless. Moving on didn’t always mean that he had to forget. You had prompted him to believe that he still had a chance. He had a chance at building friendships, and experiences. He wasn’t broken, he didn’t need fixing; rather he still had a chance to start anew. He didn’t want to accept his feelings for you; but damn he couldn’t ignore them either. Boone cared for you greatly.
As he neared the end of the seventh hallway he had patrolled, he could hear your soft cries. He quietly let himself into the room (his first recon training had caused his footsteps to be indefinitely quiet). The bathroom door was closed as he listened to your heavy breathing. After standing there for what he thought was an inappropriately long amount of time, he lifted a single knuckle to gently knock on the door.
You heard the knock. You immediately shuffled about, and your voice cracked as you asked, “Uh, who is it?” You waited anxiously for a response as you heard Boone reply, “It’s me.” Shit. You quickly wiped your face and runny nose on your sleeves, and attempted to fix your disheveled hair, “Oh alright! I’ll be out in one second.” Before you creaked open the door, you inhaled deeply, and took one last glimpse into the mirror.
Boone stood in front of you as he did a quick scan of your face. You offered him a crooked smile as you rubbed the back of your neck, “H-hey, are all of the bathrooms being used upstairs in the suite? Did you need to use this one?” You attempted a light-hearted laugh, but Boone’s face remained emotionless. He spoke quieter than you ever heard him speak before as he asked, “You’ve been acting off lately. What’s wrong?” Your heart dropped inside your chest and your palms began to sweat, “Boone I’m alright, I just wanted to get out of the suite for a bit. You know, it does get a little crowded up there. Haha-” You were determined to keep up this façade of easy-going behavior. He sighed. His sunglasses were absent, and you could’ve sworn that his eyebrows were a little less furrowed than usual. His face almost looked soft. Boone’s voice was comforting yet sturdy as he spoke, “Y/N, don’t lie to me.”
So, Boone won. The two of you sat on a dusty couch in the abandoned room, as you proceeded to tell him everything that was weighing on your mind. Although the both of you had been traveling together for some time, this emotionally vulnerable aspect was new to your relationship. Boone hardly shared his feelings with you, so you didn’t think it was fair to weigh him down with yours. To your surprise, he wanted quite the opposite. You expressed how you felt stressed, and he would nod in response, intently listening. You couldn’t remember the last time you had allowed yourself to be so open. He didn’t say much, but you felt like he truly cared. Deep down, this was his state of vulnerability: eye contact, a gradual nod, allowing you to freely express your feelings. After about a half hour of your ramblings, you noticed that your breathing started to stabilize. Boone offered his open palm across the couch, and you accepted it. There was a silent exchange of smiles between you two, and you were the first to break it, “Thank you.” He gazed down at your intertwined fingers, noting how yours looked in comparison to his own. You could barely hear him as he nearly whispered, “Anything.”
You decided that the others would begin to worry about Boone and yours’ prolonged absence and decided to head back. Before boarding the elevator to return to the top floor suite, you reached out in front of you in order to softly grab his arm. He immediately stopped in his tracks as you spoke, “Hey, wait. Boone?” He shifted as he turned around to face you full-frontal, and for the first time you had noticed the emotion of nervousness on him. You offered him an empathetic smile as you made eye contact with him, “I just wanted to apologize, for earlier. You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry.” Boone’s chest visibly deflated as he slowly took a step towards you, “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He was standing so close to you that you could make out a slight five o’ clock shadow on his chin. He placed a hand on your back and intensified his eye contact with you in a non-verbal attempt to ask, (is this alright?). You responded by wrapping both of your arms around his frame and rested your face in the crook of his neck. Boone tightened the hug and enjoyed the deep inhalation he had taken from the scent of your hair. He smiled into your neck as he said, “Give yourself some time to rest. Wanna go downstairs and grab a drink?” You laughed as you pulled back to look at him, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Where would I be without you?” He straightened his beret as he softly chuckled, “Drinking alone.”