Chapter Text
It was gym class; the boys had been split into two groups for a game of dodgeball while the girls on the other side of the hall played ping pong. A ball from either side of the line of tape separating them would occasionally stray into the middle, an accident or on purpose, it didn’t matter, then a teacher would blow their whistle in warning. Not that Boone actively paid attention to it, it’s just something you noticed when it happened every lesson, two days a week.
He was sweating, nylon shirt sticking to his chest as if he had just jumped into a pool of water headfirst and blinking away droplets threatening to get into his eyes. It was an option to feign not being able to play, to sit out on the bench to cool off, but Craig Boone was anything but a quitter – having a more than healthy competitive streak. Plus, throwing a ball at the dickhead with too much hair gel, that was wilting with the heat, was a good way to blow off steam.
Eventually, and inevitably, the hour came to an end and Manny caught up with him, hopping up from the bench on the side as soon as the whistle blew for a final time. A hand clasped his shoulder, making the fabric stick so much more, causing an uncomfortable expression to grace his friend’s face, but that was just how Boone tended to look at times, so he probably didn’t think much of it. Fingers squeezing for a beat before dropping as they walked side-by-side, shouldering whoever was lingering in the too-small doorway for too long.
Manny didn’t speak and neither did Boone. Maybe for once, his friend had some sense knocked into him when the dodgeball made contact with his skull earlier, sensing the tension (or more than usual amount of tension) radiating by his side.
Changing happened as usual. It stank of sweat, you could barely breathe because of windows that never opened and too much cheap deodorant that boys had gotten last Christmas being sprayed. When Boone had his shirt peeled off, Manny asked if he wanted to go smoke by the trash cans for some fresh air; neither cared about the hypocrisy in the words, so he nodded while unzipping his bag and avoiding an elbow from someone else in the packed locker room.
-
Standing in silence was pleasant, they hadn’t done that in a while. Manny being a Khan and getting to his age meant he had some family tradition problems or something, so he’d been worked up lately. Boone only half listened to it, not out of lack of caring but more out of struggling to grasp the complex inner-family politics being explained to him, he just gave a few grunts now and then and that seemed to keep his friend happy – if listening was the least he could do then he was alright with that. Manny was tough and he would come out in top in the end, he always did, but it didn’t mean he didn’t get wound up sometimes.
However, today, the roles would be reversed and the usual silent partner would have to finally rip the band-aid off, telling Manny was going to be the true finalization to his and Carla’s relationship - as if that didn’t happen when she screamed at him down the phone line and although he knew his best friend would never understand why he loved her, being the way he was inclined, he knew he really did. Thinking back on how when he clicked the phone back in its hook, even the cat outside had sat on the porch looking at him through the open door, staring at the teenager like his family was. Each with their own separate look of distaste, whether it was embarrassment for having to overhear the things she said, what Boone didn’t say back, or disgust on what he did to her.
Shaved scalp hit the brick wall of the school as he turned, in an effort to face his friend rather than speaking to the ground as he usually did, not that it meant much behind tinted sunglasses, before taking one last drag, stubbing the cigarette in the mortar gaps and pocketing the un-smoked half in his pocket for another time when his brain said he needed it.
The last of the smoke broke free as he spoke, “Uh, listen bud. I got something to tell you.” Boone cut the eye-contact thing before he even finished his sentence, instead watching his friend’s shoes turn to point at him, his own cigarette dropping as the sneaker crunched it into the gravel. Manny always wore his sneakers the whole day if they had gym.
They both knew it was out of character for Boone, he was feeling pretty thankful his friend knew better than to tease him or make comment on it, instead the best friend replied with a “Anything, man.” His voice was soft, betraying his rough exterior.
Sweat was still coming out of him, but for an entirely different reason now, he dragged a tanned wide hand down his face disrupting the dead skin there and sighed. Looking up revealed Manny being patient for once, with soft brown eyes and his dark eyebrows pulling up. Giving off the same energy as a kicked puppy. If seeing his best friend breaking his usual mask upset him that much, then said friend should hurry up and put him out of his misery.
“I got her pregnant.” His eyes fell back down as he spoke.
It was silent for a beat or two, bar the crunch under his friend’s shoes as he shifted his weight, taking in the information. The sneakers came closer for a moment, then stepped back further than they started, the voice above them neutral. “What you gonna do?”
A rough fingernail came up to his teeth without even thinking on it, a flimsy defense against giving anything resembling a reply, but a defense, nonetheless. Boone turned away, facing the fence and all its graffiti from other lovers come and gone, and a few dicks drawn just for the fun of it.
“Broke up.” He said.
“That sucks.” Manny replied.
Being best friends for so long, you tended to want to punch the other person now and then, it was natural; although, it was only now, in the moment with sweat cooling his skin and the claustrophobic outside air around them, that Craig Boone genuinely entertained the thought. But then, when did Boone ever give Manny more than a grunt or two, when he casually mentioned how young he was when he found out his family was dealing chems, or when he admitted he was shitting himself due to his initiation day coming up?
They met at Camp McCarran, both picking military training when they turned sixteen the same month, before they even knew the other existed, coming together like brothers they didn’t know they had. It was tough but Manny made it alright, Craig may have been lacking in his grades in school but made up for it the way he held a gun, the NCR was always asking for more men and women, the posters ever lurking in the corner of your vision somewhere; it all felt so right until they heard what happened over at Bitter Springs. How the Khans got shot down, women and children, how it could have been either of them pulling the trigger. When it played on the T.V., with Boone standing behind his little brother who didn’t quite understand what he was seeing, he couldn’t help but see the resemblance in some of those faces, with the same dark hair and eyes almost black, but still holding something kind and tender. They didn’t deserve it.
So, they jumped ship and that was that, didn’t talk about it, just making the same decision as they tended to do – acting as one. Manny wasn’t a bad guy really, as different as they were, they were a team and you didn’t say one name without the other; they’d been through a lot and would probably go through a lot more when the years came.
Green eyes looked up to brown, and on the way there, they couldn’t help but notice the slight upturn twitch of lips. Boone blinked, not even registering it proper, before his head was pulled into his friends’ shoulder, being patted on the back and told things would work out. Boone wasn’t quite sure he believed it.
The Khan kept him in an embrace that felt genuine, but with a voice as if following a script of what he’d seen in a movie once. “Everything happens for a reason.” He said, like he even knew what he was saying or what the words meant. Boone stayed, head buried in a crook of neck and shoulder – not due to the touch being reassuring, but more of not trusting himself to look at his friend’s face again.
“Guess you wouldn’t ever know what that feels like.” He didn’t mean for it to come out that bitter, the internal anger that had found such a cozy home inside of him spilling out some. Hopefully, his speech was muffled enough that it didn’t sound so bad in his best friend’s ears as it did to his own.
“What’s that meant to mean?” Manny always did tend to take the defense.
“Cut it, Manny. I don’t care. I know.” He pulled back and was let go with no resistance. The smile he still didn’t know the meaning behind was gone and was back to pulling down on the corners, making him look something akin to the sad faces on the drama posters up in the corridors. Maybe a touch of fear flashed on the face he was so close to right now, but Boone was never the best at reading people. Noticing things? Sure, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do with the information after.
Neither spoke, Manny stepping back as Boone looked at the crushed cigarette beneath them, toeing at it with his boot on automatic.
After a few beats passed, Manny made move to the carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket once more, but a wider hand halted his movements, reaching into cargoes and handing the half-finished butt from earlier. Manny lit the end and Boone nodded, settling back into verbal silence, but individual internal thoughts too loud to focus on anything else.
It was always like them, to talk just enough, never quite finishing the conversation. Open-ended wounds never quite getting the full chance to heal.