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“This kind of behavior is unacceptable coming from any member of Nighthaven. It’s unacceptable for Rainbow. It’s an embarrassing reflection of me as your leader and of my organization.”
Kali’s words stung worse than any punch to the face.
“I was defending myself against Shrike’s bullshit.”
“And what bullshit was that? Playground banter? How am I supposed to trust you with a weapon, no, people’s lives if you so easily lose your temper over an insult?”
“Respectfully, Kali, you have no idea what-”
“I don’t care. There were a million other ways to handle this. You decided to throw the first punch.”
Bossa rocked on his heels to diffuse the discomfort of Kali’s scathing lecture. He stared at her blankly, his jaw clenched in self-restraint.
“I know you’re not stupid, that’s why you’re here.” She huffed, uncrossing her arms “I expect more from you than this, Marcelo. Don’t let it happen again.”
Bossa averted his eyes and nodded his defeated head. He exhaled as he watched Kali walk away, the tension in his shoulders and hands ebbing away with each step she took. Images of his teammates, Rainbow and Nighthaven alike, gossiping about the incident swirled about Bossa’s head. There was no way that only the squad of operators present were the singular witnesses to the spectacle, their dispute was just the beginning of it all.
Between landing the first punch, the subsequent punches that followed, and being pulled off one another, the tussle had gained quite a crowd of onlookers. Sledge’s voice had no doubt carried from behind the shitty half wall the pair had been dragged behind, treating anyone with a functioning pair of ears to a free eavesdropping session.
Bossa looked around, his gaze met with guilty stares from his teammates. At least Ash and Caveira had the humanity to pull Shrike into an office or something. As is the case with such a tight-knit group of teammates, the shit-talking would inevitably be rampant. Kali’s scathing lecture was just the cherry on top of it all.
Bossa cleared his throat, pausing for a moment to collect himself before walking off the training grounds. Ideally, he would run into a massive rock to hide under. Still, more realistically he’d find himself stuck halfway to the cafeteria answering a barrage of questions from someone who was definitely not an original witness.
“Marcelo?” A voice called out. Right on queue.
Bossa stopped, cringing to himself as he turned to see who was behind him.
“Didn’t want to wait for me, huh?”
It was Trip equipped with a singular blue ice pack. Bossa felt his face flush mortified as the other man approached him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Did they send you here to yell at me too?” Bossa mumbled, gluing his eyes to the ground.
“What? Of course not. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.” Trip said, perplexed. “I brought you an ice pack. It’s probably best to get something cold on your face before it starts to bruise.”
Bossa grumbled, cursing to himself under his breath. He undid the mess of hair atop his head and ran his fingers through the dark curls.
“Listen, if you’re here to be pissed at me just get it over with. Everyone else has had their turn so não importa say what you need to.” Bossa flipped his head down, gathering his hair into a ponytail before reorganizing it into a neat bun. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, and I learned my lesson or whatever.”
Trip sighed, watching as the other man smoothed back unruly strands of hair.
“You know I'm your friend before I'm your mentor, right?”
There was a moment of silence and the comment hung in the air. Bossa could feel the frustration in his chest rising into a lump in his throat. He hummed in response, his face scrunching up as he swallowed hard.
“Like…you can talk to me…as my friend…”
“Mm…”
Bossa pursed his lips at the familiar sting of hot tears welling in his eyes. He cursed again, balling up both fists and pulling them to his face. An empathetic frown tugged at Trip’s face. He scanned the area, noticing the awkward glances from teammates passing by.
“Here, why don’t we find a better place to sit together.” Trip said, placing a free hand on Bossa’s shoulder.
***
“I know it’s not ideal but I figured you’ve had enough public humiliation for today.”
The smell of stale tobacco smoke lingered in the air of the secluded smoking area. Bossa silently thanked Trip, counting in his head the handful of operators they could run into. Besides Usko and Thermite, who both abused their smoke break privileges, only a few others frequented the space.
“So they did tell you what happened?” Bossa took a seat at one of the concrete benches.
“Depends on what you mean by ‘they’.” Trip huffed as he took a seat. “Nobody ran me through what happened formally but you know how fast news gets around here.”
Bossa groaned and leaned forward, cupping his face into his hands.
“Merda…” He rubbed the sides of his head. “This fucking sucks.”
“It’s no big deal, trust me. People get into arguments over things all the time.” Trip said earnestly. “I’ve seen fights started here over the dumbest things too. I’m sure everyone will forget in a week and move on anyway.”
“I hope Shrike feels every bruise on his face for the next lifetime.” Bossa shook his leg as he spoke. “Desgraçado…you don’t just do something like that and get away with it.”
“So…what exactly happened?”
Bossa froze and stared wide-eyed for a moment, seemingly caught off guard.
“Uh…I don’t know…Kali gave me an earful after though. Said I just got worked up over banter.”
The distant clamor of training eased the long silence. Bossa squirmed under the tension, picking at the loose fibers on his pants in an effort to drop the conversation.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” Trip persisted. “You just seem upset about something. Like…really upset. You haven’t tried to crack a single joke at my expense yet.”
Bossa grinned at the joke. He hesitated for a moment, his face contorting as he thought.
“I guess that…hm…I think that…I got overwhelmed and didn’t really know what to do about it.” Bossa started, his leg bouncing anxiously as he picked his words. “What Shrike said made me feel…I don’t know how to describe it.”
He exhaled, avoiding Trip’s gaze.
“Sorry this is all over the place.”
“It’s okay.”
Bossa fidgeted with his hands and took a deep breath.
“My parents and I have a…uh…complicated relationship. We’re not on the best of terms right now. Well, we haven’t been for a while I guess.” Bossa’s voice wavered. “I know I say otherwise but…ugh, I don’t know this is stupid.”
Trip put a steady hand on Bossa’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Bossa half-smiled at the gesture.
“I don’t like talking about it. There’s like…two people that I have probably explained the whole thing to. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for one of them to say anything about it and the other…I’m one hundred percent certain she had nothing to do with this.” Bossa paused to take another breath. “My parents have disowned me ever since I came out to them. I moved out when I was seventeen and it’s been Marcelo against the world ever since. We talk sometimes but it’s useless.”
Bossa exhaled. He could feel tears in his eyes again and wiped them away, embittered.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s whatever.” Bossa sniffled. “I guess that’s why Shrike’s comment had pissed me off so bad.”
“Is that what started the fight?”
“Yeah. He said something about Usko and I couldn’t let it slide. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, something like ‘being a people-pleasing try-hard isn’t going to win back your parent’s affection’. I don’t remember much after that though. My brain just shut off.”
The two sat in silence, processing the heaviness of the situation together. Bossa continued wiping tears from his face, wincing as he brought his sleeve across the developing bump of a bruise beneath his eye. He put his hands over his face, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. His shoulders shook as the sniffles turned into quiet sobs. Trip scooted closer, rubbing his friend’s back in an offer of comfort.
“I feel so stupid,” Bossa coughed between breaths. “I don’t know why I’m so upset.”
“It sounds overwhelming. Don’t try to downplay it.” Trip said.
“Yeah but Kali’s right how can I-”
“Listen to me,”
The sudden shift in Trip’s voice took Bossa off guard. He looked up from his hands and sniffled, staring at his teammate through red puffy eyes.
“You’re a person. You can’t always be the elite super soldier that Nighthaven expects you to be.” Trip extended the now melty ice pack, which Bossa gratefully pressed against his red face. “It’s easy to try and think about what Kali, Rainbow, your parents…hell, even what I want for you. But when was the last time you thought about what you want?”
“Shit…I don’t know.” Bossa laughed. “Is that even a thing I’m allowed to do?”
“You’re the only expert on yourself. I’ve seen you make decisions and they are far from stupid.” Trip paused for a minute before continuing. “If you need to cry about this then cry. I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”
Bossa wiped the remaining tears from his face and sniffled. He sat the sad remnants of the ice pack beside him on the bench and inhaled. He turned to Trip and wrapped him in a hug. Trip reciprocated, giving Bossa’s back a reassuring pat as they embraced.
“Thank you. I think I just need this for now, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Trip smiled. “Thank you for trusting me to listen.”