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“I can carry it!”
“No, you can’t,” Char insists as Garma pulls on the tent under his arms.
“And why not?” Garma retorts, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at his friend. “It was my idea to come out here in the first place.”
“Do you want to try?” Char offers with a small smirk, knowing exactly how this will end. Immediately, the other starts taking the large pack of cloth out from under his arms.
“Of course I do! What do you think I’ve been asking for this whole time, I swear you just don—” There’s a panicked squawk as a majority of the pack is removed from underneath his arm and Garma falls forward, using the tent to pad his landing.
“Well,” he chuckles, “I told you.” The cooler is placed on the ground as he leans down to help him up. Garma turns towards him, his face marred with a pout as his cheek smooshes into the rough fabric.
“Shut up.” He puts a hand to the man on the ground and he grabs it firmly, shuffling around so he doesn't squish the tent materials as he attempts to stand again.
"Not going to tell me not to laugh again?" he teases.
“I think shut up should cover that, shouldn’t it?” he huffs as he brushes invisible dust off his pants and shoulders with his free hand.
“Fair enough,” Char agrees as he looks down at where their hands join. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter either way since we’re alone now, aren’t we?” He lifts the hand and presses a gentle kiss to its back, watching Garma’s eyes widen in shock.
“I suppose.” A small blush spreads across his face and he squeezes Char’s hand before letting go again. “At least let me carry the cooler?”
“If you insist.” They walk on in relative silence, the tent under one of Char’s arms as Garma uses both to carry the cooler.
Other than the two of them, some cacti, and rocks, there really isn’t much out here. They’re alone, truly alone. Desert stretches out for miles around them, no one with an ounce of sanity would think this is a good place to go camping but here they are.
Humanity left places like this alone after a while, crowding into packed cities to escape the treachery of nature. Rocky hills crop up every now and then, juxtaposing the flat ground that surrounds them and diverting the devastation of the blazing sun away from them even if only slightly. They’ve been walking for only thirty minutes but if they don’t find a place to camp soon, Garma might pass out from the heat
“Is over there good enough?” he asks Char, pointing to a small tree as he receives his third headshake of the day. “Ugh, is anything good enough for you? And you say I’m the picky one.”
“Patience, I’ll tell you when we’re there.” Garma groans again but follows behind his partner, watching the shadow from a rock fall over him and back away again. Does he really know where they’re going? How can he? It’s not like he’s ever been out here, but he’s so confident, as he always is.
As he always is… it’s probably not healthy to envy someone as he does Char but in contrast to his strength he’s a very weak person at heart and it really can’t be helped. No matter how much he grows he fears this will always be the case. It’s only when Char smiles at him that he thinks differently, the source of his envy becomes his inspiration. Whether malicious or kind, nothing inspires him more than those upturned lips. And his need to see more of it if ever he can. No, it’s definitely not healthy.
It’s only when they reach its peak does he realize they’d been walking up a hill but the drop down is much steeper and when he looks down into the valley below, it’s green. As green as a desert can be, at least.
“Look!” Garma points down at a place where two trees hover near each other, gently touching each other’s branches. Char was right, as always, and now there’s a million good places for their tent. And a million more to watch the stars drift over their heads as they wish they were back in space.
Almost as soon as he’s stopped thinking about that smile, it lights up his life again and in his excitement he clutches Char’s hand, pulling him down before the hand grips back.
“Char?” Garma questions, tugging on his hand a couple more times. Char rolls his eyes fondly behind his sunglasses, thinking about how foolish a man his boyfriend is.
“Don’t fall again,” he warns. Sand shifts beneath Garma’s feet and Char watches his throat bob as he gulps.
“Right. Thank you.” His face turns back to Char with a terrified look in his eyes and he has to remind himself his hands are both full to hold himself back from petting his head. These thoughts are ruining his brain. It would’ve been better if they’d never even been friends but somehow it’s gone so much further than that. How did he let himself fall so far?
Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head he squeezes the hand in his once more and slowly walks in front, carefully leading Garma down the hill. At the bottom, they take the tent out of the bag and lay all the pieces out underneath the two trees. Garma sets the cooler out near one tree and leans his backpack next to it. Char lays his against the opposite tree and stands over the tent, staring critically as he thinks about how to set it up. There aren’t any directions but he’s sure he’ll figure it out, it doesn’t seem too complicated.
“Do you want any help?” Garma offers, looking up from the cooler with a beer in his hand.
“No, just get the food ready. You know the fire rules, right?”
“Of course, the pop-up grill is in my bag,” he says, throwing a beer at Char and getting another for himself. His skin is glistening with sweat and he swings his hair out of his face as he tips his head back to drink. The liquid flows effortlessly down his throat and he finds he can’t turn away. Looking at sights like this only twists his heart further and, though Garma would probably appreciate the glance, it’s not something he should encourage.
The grill is set up and the food cooking within the hour despite the tent not being even halfway done as Garma stands with spatula in hand and watches his beloved struggle.
“Are you sure you don’t want help?” It is the tent he used in his childhood, after all, he’s watched Dozle set it up many times. Even if he’s never done it himself, he has a pretty good idea of how it’s done.
“I’ve got thi—” A pole slaps him in the face and, after a moment of silent shock, Garma bursts out in laughter.
“You— you!” He falls to his knees as he clutches his stomach. To think, the great Red Comet would be defeated by a mere tent. He must surely be ashamed of himself but when Garma opens his eyes to wipe away a tear, he sees the man just looking at him with his glasses askew and an emotion he can’t quite recognize on his face.
The look calms him and he slowly recovers, chuckling as he stands again and walks over to press a quick kiss to his lips. It’s been like this since their relationship began, he never knows what Char’s thinking and seldom has any sort of control. But then there are moments, only visible to him, where he thinks he might finally be breaking into his shell. Similar to his smile, it inspires him.
“Let me help,” he offers again, taking Char’s hands in his own and swinging them back and forth between the two of them. His partner sighs and nods sadly. “Thank you.”
It’s always so funny how Garma pushes everyone else off when they ask for his help but he’ll always offer it to Char, free of charge. Well, free for him but not to Char’s consciousness. Accepting help has always been a weak point of his, and even more so when the offer comes from Garma.
This relationship between them may be odd, he’ll be the first to admit it, and everything they do feels so fleeting as if any moment could be the last. And of course there will be a time when all of this has to end but he likes to live moment to moment. Just like this trip, completely spontaneous and unreported, they’ll have hell to pay when they get back. But it doesn’t matter, he promised himself he’d forget all that bureaucracy for this one day. Let go of all his responsibilities. So he lets Garma help him this one time, watching as he sets up the tent much more expertly than expected.
“You look like a pro,” he compliments and watches happily as Garma’s face goes pink while he holds the other side of the pole.
“I wouldn’t say that…” he replies sheepishly, “Dozle used to take me camping in the backyard a lot is all.”
“I see...” He did say he’d let go of all his responsibilities but that’s difficult in moments like this. They’d gone camping like that quite a few times together in their youth and it causes a tinge of anger to rush through his veins. Whether it’s envy or anger he’s lost track, but either way it's always a slap in the face when he mentions that perfect childhood he had. "Then you're at least better than me."
"At one thing," he mutters and purses his lips. The rest of the time they spend putting up the tent is relatively silent as each contemplates his own half of their relationship, falling further and further into their own heads.
Sizzling sounds of vegetables and hamburgers on their pop-up grill fill the gaps of sound that continue between them once the tent has been set up. Garma sits on his sleeping bag at the very edge of the tent and sips his second as Char cooks just to his side. A plate is placed in front of him and he quietly thanks his boyfriend as he begins to eat.
As they eat the sun sets beyond the somewhat distant mountains and the sky turns a dusky orange. Both pondering the same question: why am I even here? And, despite that, neither can imagine any place they'd rather be. The moon replaces the sun and the air gets steadily cooler as the silence carries on and the stars appear in the sky. If only there was some way to solve this dilemma. Neither the earth turning nor the crickets chirping can bridge the gap between them but communication seems almost impossible now.
"It's beautiful," Garma comments absently, ending nearly an hour of pure silence as they had eaten their food.
"What is?" Char asks, taking another side glance at him. He'd taken plenty of them during the quietness, he couldn't help himself. The colors of the sunset always played well against Garma's face and his ever-present sunglasses allowed such discretion.
"Well if you took off those stupid glasses I'm sure you'd know what I'm talking about," he chides and begins tugging them off his face. Char allows the action with a dip of his head then looks up to the sky again and sees his image of perfection.
"It's beautiful," he whispers, almost to himself.
"See, I told you." Galaxies stretch across the sky, boundless purple and blue roving across planes of nothingness above them as small white stars dot their paths across it.
"Do you miss being in space?" It seems like a simple question but he's put so much emphasis into it that it could be heavier than the earth itself.
"Of course I do," Garma replies simply.
"So you don't want to be on this mission?"
"Well— that's— Look, it's not that I don't appreciate this chance to prove myself but… this isn't where I belong." He continues to stare longingly at the sky for a moment before groaning and resituating himself to lay inside his sleeping bag. Char watches him quietly, thinking of what to say next, how to approach this topic.
"You belong with your family?"
"Now you're just willfully misinterpreting me. Belong with my family— what rubbish," he huffs. Char turns on his side towards him and smirks. "Don't tease me like that, I just mean that Earth isn't really a very enjoyable place to be, during war or peace. I'd take any chance given to me to leave my family behind."
"Would you?" It's surprising but also not, he feels like he should've seen this coming but somehow it still feels as if it’s coming out of left field.
"I would." Oh, if only you weren't Garma, Char thinks as he sees him fidget with his hair. It's hard to take anything he says at more than face value. He's a timid man at heart, one who lives to please others and knows nothing of himself.
"What if I had a way?" he offers.
"A way?" Surprise equal to his own spreads across Garma’s face as his hands slow in his hair.
"A way to leave your family, to start carving your own path."
"I—" he looks down and in the tint of the lantern that lies between them he sees a blush spread across Garma's cheeks. "Would I still be able to be with you? I can't imagine my path without you."
"Can you?" Garma looks back and tilts his head in confusion, of course he can't. Even with all his inadequacies and foolish notions of pride, he still wants Char in his life somehow… whatever that may mean.
"Of course not… you're my friend and my… my partner. My boyfriend. I love you," he confesses. It’s definitely not the first time he’s said it but it still feels so gut-wrenching every time.
"You think you do—"
"I know I do, don't start trying to make me think I'm lying to myself. I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Every time, every time he says this, Char never responds in kind. Every time it’s like he’s dismissing him. Every time he feels as if he’s being told off.
" You always say that. What if I'm not the man you think I am?"
"Who I think you are?" Char chuckles and turns away, leaving Garma to figure out what that means on his own. It makes sense, that Char isn’t the man he thinks he is. If he thinks back on it, he doesn’t really know much about him or his past. How could he know if he loves him without knowing that? Is Char right?
He looks back at the stars and thinks about their past and their friendship together. How it evolved into what it is now is hard to say, but Garma had definitely taken the lead in it. Always the one to confess and never receiving the same sentiment in reply. Does Char even love him? Probably not, but he really can’t help himself.
Despite all that, he still can’t give up on this feeling in his heart. If he doesn’t know enough about Char, he’ll learn. If Char wants to take the lead, he’ll let him. If he needs space, he’ll give it to him. Anything he can do, he’ll do it for Char.
“It doesn’t—” he pauses to choke back the emotions that are beginning to well up in his throat, “It doesn’t matter if you’re not who I think you are. What matters is who you are to me. We can forget all of that, our past and our families and everything so long as you let me keep loving you.”
Another intimidating pause rings throughout the tent and Garma feels indignation rise within him. He sits up and leans over Char so he can look him in the eyes as he chews him out.
“You always think you know me so much better than I know you, but honestly you don’t know me any better. My feelings are cheap to you, you’re always telling me I don’t mean them. But I do. They’re as real as the hair on my head. I won’t let you shame me into forgetting them.” Char smiles again, and this time he makes it hard to tell if it’s mocking or sincere. He appreciates Garma’s candor, it’s what made him pursue their current relationship in the first place.
But will he really feel the same when he knows the truth? If he ever knows. Maybe there’s only one way to find out.
“Fine.” He turns over and looks Garma back in the eyes. For a second, he sees them flit away and knows that Garma is still truly scared of what he might learn but they come back immediately, however, now sparkling with pure determination. This is the Garma he’s come to love, the one who fights for himself and those he loves. It took a long time for him to grow into this man, but he can’t deny how it strikes him, his willingness to throw away everything he’s built up to this point just for the chance to stay with a man he doesn’t know very well.
“You’ll tell me more about you?” Char nods.
“What if I said I became your friend because I wanted to assassinate your family?” Garma’s face immediately goes slack in shock, but he doesn’t look away yet.
“I—”
“What if that is still my goal?” Garma regains his composure and frowns, but unexpectedly it almost looks more like a pout.
“I knew you didn’t love me.” Char laughs at Garma’s absurdity and rolls onto his back, the other follows him by leaning over him further.
“Is that all you took from that?”
“Well… no. I guess it is shocking and upsetting and I feel a bit used but…” He looks away again.
“Do you at least want to know why?” he asks, curious since this isn’t the reaction he was expecting. There’s no movement away despite the fear plastered across his face and the hand in his hair.
“I can guess why,” Garma sighs, looking away again. “It’s not as if I’m from the kindest family in the universe.”
“Yes, but there’s more to it than that—”
“I don’t really care how much there is to it. What bothers me is that the person I love doesn’t love me back. Of course there are intricacies and differences to everyone’s reasoning for these things but at the heart of it all, what you’re saying is that you’ve only been using my love to get closer to my family just like everyone else and that is what really hurts. Someone I admire, someone I love…”
“Garma… I’ll admit you were right at first. At first I had also planned to kill you—”
“What!?” he screeches, his body frozen in place.
“And I’m not saying that’s changed either but there’s more in the way now. Our relationship has been messed up from the beginning, since the day my father died.” He waits for Garma to say something about who his father might be but he truly doesn’t seem to care with his eyes drooping down to the ground as his body goes lax. “There was never a way it could work between us, I’m too messed up and you’re at the center of it all.”
“It’s really over, isn’t it?” Char sighs. That’s not what he’s saying but it would still be for the best. His emotions are so entangled in his revenge that, although he likes Garma as a person, there’s still something that tells him he shouldn’t be alive. There’s no more running from his feelings, it’s time to lay it all out on the table.
“If you want it to be.”
“What will you say if I don’t?”
“If you don’t? I’ll say you’re crazy.”
“Do you love me?” Garma finally looks back at him and there’s less desperation than he expected. Instead, those dark eyes shine brightly at him. “If you doubt me, I can prove it to you. I’ll prove how much I love you just like I pr—”
“Garma,” he quiets, pulling him over for a soft kiss, “you don’t need to prove anything. Of course I love you.”
“You do?” He nods, against his better judgment. A smile creases Garma’s cheeks and he kisses Char again then gives him a thousand smaller ones all over his face, slowly rolling himself up onto Char’s chest.
“That’s why it’s so difficult now. You make things very difficult for me,” he relents after Garma seems to be finished.
“I’m sure I do. Do you still want to kill me?”
“I never wanted to kill you. I have to. It’s my duty.”
“Duty huh…” He places his head down on Char’s chest and revels in the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist. “Well, I have an idea then.”
“I’m all ears.” The arms tighten for a second and he looks up at Char’s face.
“What if you help me escape like you said, and I’ll run away from everything and then, once the war is over, you can come find me and if you still want to kill me I’ll be at your mercy,” he suggests.
“You won’t fight back?”
“Of course I will. I’m not some doll, that’s the last thing I want and why I want to escape in the first place. I’ll fight my hardest to survive.”
“That’s the man I love,” Char coos gently. He leans up on his elbows, looking down at his blond lover and smiles at the warmth in his eyes. Arms travel up his back until they reach his hair and entangle themselves into his own purple mop. “We’ll talk escape plans tomorrow. For now, I have other plans.”
“Other plans?” He’s suddenly pulled down into a kiss which he falls into simply. This night had not gone at all as he’d planned, and he’s not sure what his future will be like now but there’s hope blossoming in his heart. Maybe they do have a future together. Even if Char can’t see it, there’s still a chance.