Work Text:
The Black Mesa Research Facility needed better air conditioning. The giant building complex was consistently sweltering, but being located in the middle of a New Mexico did that to places like this. Bubby walked into the break room and groaned at the sight of the lone fan in the room being off. He tried to turn it back on but to no avail.
“It’s broken,” Harold spoke, entering the otherwise empty break room. “I tried fixing it yesterday, but I think it’s beyond repair.”
“Of course,” Bubby groaned, instead fetching some change from his pocket for one of the two vending machines. “For being government funded, you think they’d get a fan that won’t break down every week.”
Harold chuckled lightly, sitting down at a table. “One would think a lot of things about this place would be different just for being government funded, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose,” Bubby grumbled, inserting his change and grabbing a soda before sitting down in the seat across from Harold, “perhaps including a janitor.” He brushed crumbs of someone’s past lunch off the table before setting his soda down and opening the can.
There was tense silence for a few moments. Bubby broke the silence, “You’ve been off lately.”
Harold chuckled again, but this time was different than the last. “Have I?”
“Yes. Something isn’t right with you. The past few days you’ve been less… less like yourself.”
“Bubby, I-” he began, “I need to tell you something.” He folded his hands underneath the table, fidgeting slightly. He looked at the decrepit ceiling tiles, the sticky floor, anywhere except at Bubby.
Bubby was sipping his soda, as if he didn’t notice Harold’s strange actions. “Well, what is it?”
“I know you don’t much like my wife. I-”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Bubby, please try not to interrupt, this is serious.”
Bubby exhaled through his nose.
Harold tried to make eye contact with Bubby but all he could manage was to stare past at the decrepit microwave behind him. It was the only one in the breakroom and was covered in stains inside and out. It had been there almost as long as Harold had started working there years and years ago. It was a wonder it still worked, albeit poorly. Harold hesitated to continue.
“Well?” Bubby interjected, “Spit it out.” He sipped at his drink once more.
There was a moment or two of silence between the two. Bubby opened his mouth to speak again when there was a small hiccup of a sob from Harold. It quickly became full-on crying. It was the type of cry where the crier can barely even breathe, just sob and whine whilst tears flow endlessly from their eyes. Harold covered his face in his hands, elbows resting on the table in front of him.
Bubby was frozen for a minute, hands raised like they should be doing something. Harold only continued to sob. Finally, Bubby rose from the table and slowly traveled to the other side. He sat down in the seat next to Harold and, after hesitating a moment more, put a hand on his shoulder. All at once Harold turned around and grabbed Bubby in a hug. Bubby froze again but eventually returned it, awkwardly putting his arms around Harold who in turn had his face buried deep into the crook of Bubby’s neck. The crying man had his fists clinging to Bubby’s lab coat for dear life as his tears continued to flow.
Bubby stared out at the breakroom walls, his eyes meeting with the bulletin board. It was covered in barely legible notices of new and old. No one ever seemed to know when to take new notices off of the board, and so new ones were continually placed overtop of the old ones to the point that the pins holding them in barely could do their job anymore. He frowned, staring for some time.
Finally, Harold’s crying and wheezing slowed to the point that Bubby felt comfortable enough to pull back from the hug. As he did so Harold let go of his coat, staring up at the taller man with tears still pricking at his eyes. He sniffled as the two stared, saying nothing at first.
“Sorry,” Harold finally managed, fully letting go of Bubby now. “I guess this is a bit emotional of me.”
“What’s going on?!” Bubby asked, reasonably upset himself. “Your wife, is she…?”
“She’s fine,” Harold reassured. “She’s better than fine.”
“Then what?!”
“She… She’s leaving me for another man…” More tears began to form at Harold’s eyes but this time he managed not to fully break down.
Instantly a look of fiery rage overtook Bubby’s face. “She what?!” he roared, “I know my reasons to dislike her were unfounded until now but-!” he made a growling noise, balling his hands into fists and raising them slightly, “what a damnable bitch!”
“Now Bubby, there’s not much else that can be done. I’ve already signed the paperwork.”
“So that’s it then?! You’re just going to let the woman you’ve given nothing but love to for 5 years do this to you?”
“Bubby!” Harold raised his voice.
Bubby had a dumbfounded look on his face. He stopped, hands falling to his sides.
“Sorry,” Harold apologized again, lowering his tone once more. “I know you can get passionate about injustices, but what’s done is done. It’s over.” He looked down at the floor.
Bubby glanced at the clock. Their fifteen minute break was up. Lunch break was longer and later in the day. “We have to go back to work now,” he sighed.
“I suppose we do. And I suppose I could use a tissue or two.” Harold chuckled, still sad but genuine.
“Don’t-” Bubby began, “Don’t be afraid to tell me how you’re feeling, alright? You can come to me about anything.”
“Of course,” Harold agreed, “I’m sorry for hiding this from you. I just didn’t want to get upset in front of our other colleges. It’s really none of their business. I trust you though.”
Bubby nodded. He reached across the table to grab his soda and down the rest of it before leaving with Harold in search of tissues.