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Perrin, Courier Six, often felt at ease when he saw recognizable signs. One of those was the flag of the Followers of the Apocalypse. When he was younger, he’d spent time around them – a few weeks recovering from surgery, and a bit longer wondering if he’d found a place to settle down. Before, of course, his own fears had taken him away from him.
It. Yes, it. Not just the young man, three years younger then him, who was as enamored with Perrin as he was with him. Asking so many questions, and only getting a few answers. Not because Perrin lacked answers, but because he was such a try-hard back then. Wearing old leather jackets, trying to look like an old-world biker on his new bike, trying to look masculine.
Sometimes, encounters lingered in your mind forever, and sometimes Perrin wondered what would have happened if he stayed. He didn’t feel smart enough to be a Follower. He didn’t feel like he’d fit in there, as some sort of researcher or-- whatever. Whatever.
But seeing them having an outpost in the Mojave? Oh, it was a relief, after everything. The dark-skinned Courier chuckled to himself, before slightly looking over to his companion. A far more pale then him lady who almost looked like a raider, at first impression. But she was his friend, and a fellow Courier. (They were both in this together.)
And then froze, looking into the courtyard, for he couldn’t believe what – who – he was seeing. Perhaps that’s why he was thinking about him—
—Arcade Gannon.
Both of them stared, from their positions. Giving a glance to his companion, Perrin whispered to her. “Hey, Elvira. I— I gotta handle this. Please.” Before waiting for a reply, Perrin stepped forward. One step, and then another, his steel-bottomed boots heavy on the ground. And then Perrin rushed in a little faster then he expected, to stand in front of Arcade. He noted slightly that the guards raised an eye at him. Perrin did look like a bit of a troublemaker. What, with a scar covering one of his eyes, and hair grown messily over the other side of his face. Curls forced down to be a bit straighter, parts of his hair shaved to get at new scars and scrapes.
Perrin didn’t care. He rushed up – Arcade still stood over a foot taller then him, just like before – and he found the words die in his throat. Arcade, too, was staring at him like he was seeing a ghost.
Eventually, Perrin found the words. “…hey, Arcade. Long time no see.”
Arcade shook his head slightly. His voice low, a mix of shock and a sigh. “I thought you were going off to find your fortune,” he replied, a bit of bitterness in his tone. (Yet, not too much.)
Perrin looked around a bit. “Got some time t’talk, or too busy helpin’ the world?”
At that, Arcade looked to one of the tents, then back down with a half-sigh. “I guess I have no choice, when it comes to you.”
As soon as they had a little bit of privacy, Perrin pulled down the scarf covering his mouth. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his lips or anything, but he didn’t like the sand getting into his mouth. Arcade was already brushing back Perrins’ hair, to examine the scar on his face - a scowl on his own. “I heard that some courier was left for dead. Was that you?”
Perrin nodded, before pausing. “Yeah. Uh, the eye thing wasn’t that, though. I thought I was hot shit after my top surgery,” Perrin said softly, craving the touch. Arcade already knew about it – it’s where they met, after all. “Went t’New Reno with the rest of my cash. But, well.”
Shaking his head slightly, Arcade sighed. “You decided that was better then staying with me.”
Of course they had to get into it. Arcade was still speaking softly, but there was a bubbling… anxiety under his words? Anger? Perrin couldn’t quite tell. “I just assumed you’d died, sometime in the last twelve years. You seemed the sort.”
Perrin closed his good eye, trying to hold back an uncontrolled snort. “I don’t think I’d have been forgiven if I died so young.” By who, Perrin did not say. The thing was, Perrin wanted to be his own person. He wondered, quite often, if he used his mentor… well, learning that this 38 year old had been taken in by the Chosen One would make people act weird around him. Thus, Perrin didn’t talk about it. “I’ve just been working and traveling. Seein’ the best and worst of the world.
Mostly the latter.” His expression quiet, Perrin leaned back on the bed a little. He hadn’t noticed that Arcades’ hand had moved to his chest, a hand on his chest, until he felt the tenseness of his shirt. Arcade gripped to Perrin quietly, trying to make it look casual, not greedy and needy.
Arcade let go as soon as he noticed Perrin staring at it, trying to play it off. Speaking slightly deadpan. “And then you nearly got assassinated by the guy who runs the Tops.”
Yeah. Perrin put a hand to his scar, the bump at the top of it. “I… I just need to get my package back from him. I mean, I’m fuckin’ pissed, but th’life of a Courier is dangerous.”
There was a long pause. Both of them knew what the other wanted to ask. Why had the other decided to keep living their life? Until Perrin cleared his throat. “You know. You were still a bit of a rookie back when—” Back when they nearly dated. Back when they both had considered getting together.
“Yeah, well, twelve years changes a person. Gives us time to learn,” Arcade replied a bit harsher then he expected. His heart was already longing for the man he nearly had that fling with, that man who…
…well. It’s not like he could have run off with Perrin with his own... connections, and it’s clearly not like Perrin would have run off with him. Why did he think that he’d get a guy like Perrin to stay? Perrin then spoke again, holding Arcades’ hand gently. “It really does. And, like… well. Things seem calm here f’now.”
Perrin gently smiled, showing his teeth slightly, an awkward sound escaping his mouth. Fuck, might as well ask. “Arcade, wanna travel together for a bit? I could use a charmin’ doctor to tend t’me.”
God, so corny! Arcade couldn’t help but snort at the handsome man in front of him. “As long as you’re not secretly leading me to my doom.”
Both of them wanted, so much, to let their hearts guide them. If only for a little. To relive what could have been. What… should have been, perhaps, if Arcade wasn't a coward. (If they weren't both cowards, when it came to deeper connections.)