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March passes with the falling of leaves and the melting of February snow. Nearing winter’s end and the start of summer, April blankets the shedding trees with warm air. Chamber has switched his long coat for a blazer, and cotton gloves for leather ones, while the Valorant protocol continues its endeavors; not a day passes without quiet moments worth blood and sweat.
The constant stress attracts Chamber to the bar in the office lounge. Something about the spacious lounge and the orange lights immediately eases the tension in Chamber’s muscles. Alcohol warms his cheeks too, a welcome feeling during the evening cold.
“That’s bad for your health,” Iso says when he enters the room.
“That’s why modèration is practiced,” Chamber quips. He offers a smile at the other agent. “Not everyone shares your sweet tooth, chèri.”
“And not everyone talks as sweet as you,” Iso sits beside him. “持而盈之，不如其已. Filling all the way to the brim is not as good as halting in time. That's why moderation is practiced.”
The gravity Iso’s words carry is lost when Iso smiles widely. Holding his laugh, Chamber matches the other man’s grin, “Cheeky.”
It’s been a month now since Iso has become Chamber’s friend; a month has flied fleetingly since Chamber has secretly reserved his heart for Iso.
Bright are the days Chamber spends with Iso. Their light debates and shared humors fill Chamber’s typically empty space. Easily, Iso’s irreplaceable like the sun. In Iso’s galaxy, Chamber is only an asteroid, gravitated and stationary on the sun’s orbit.
It’s an attraction so strong, it can break an asteroid’s integrity.
So, Chamber keeps Iso at arm’s length, forbidding a close proximity. Should his world break apart, the blow won’t be fatal. At the end of the day, they’re Valorant agents, and the risks tangled with their job are permanent.
Pity that love tastes addicting and sweet, and Chamber has grown to favor the taste of Iso’s favorite boba milk tea.
A fully restored 1992 Volkswagen Scirocco catches Chamber’s attention at Brimstone’s garage. Ideas flood his mind instantly—a weekend getaway in Pearl where the food hot and the sea breeze is cold. Chamber can see the night lamps flicker to life painting the city in orange behind his eyelids. On his tongue, the smell of street food makes him salivate.
“Chamber.”
Surprise makes him jump.
Behind him, his commander enters through the automatic metal doors. Brimstone stands beside him after, “Are you familiar?”
Chamber keep his eyes on the car, “Scirocco, 1992. Volkswagen.”
“Enthusiast?”
“You could say,” he hides his mouth behind a hand. “Who restored it?”
“Yours truly,” Brimstone chuckles. “Looks good, right?”
Chamber nods, “I’d love to take it for a ride.”
“I’d rent it out for you,” Brimstone hums, “if you had a date.”
Chamber squints at Brimstone. His commander looks absolutely delighted. “You’ve lost it, old man,” he huffs.
“I just want my team to get a long,” Brimstone admits solemnly. “I’ve given you enough chances, Chamber. I need you to change my mind about you.”
“You have Viper’s word.”
“No,” he faces him properly, arms crossed and shoulders tense. “I need your word, Chamber. So, when you’ve got a partner, please find me. Otherwise, we’ll keep dancing this tango; but, I’m getting tired.”
Brimstone’s shadow slowly minimizes on the Scirocco as he finally leaves the garage. Chamber stands alone, Brimstone’s words haunting him again. Although, his doubts are absent now.
“A date, huh?” Chamber wonders aloud.
Immediately, he thinks of Iso, and there’s a funny feeling in his stomach at the thought of driving him away from the base and everything else. Perhaps, they can find a quiet place and build a quieter life, exempted from risking their lives. They can raise a dog and share (boba) tea while watching their garden grow from the porch of their humble cottage. Perhaps—
Perhaps, Chamber's gone crazy.
April’s heat seeps through the gap of the open window at the base workshop. The upbeat melody of electro pop music plays from the corner speaker, going through Raze’s playlist. Meanwhile, Chamber hardly focuses on his work while thoughts of Iso constantly flood his thoughts—his Head Hunter’s modifications may have to wait.
A week has passed since his conversation with Brimstone. In the quiet moments between training and daily routine, he remembers his commander’s advice and revisits the idea of driving the Scirocco. In his mind, the breeze is caressing Iso’s hair in the passenger seat while Chamber drives them to the beachside, where the air is hot but the water is cool.
There’re a loose button polo and short khaki pants in his closet reserved for the right moment, but that moment is passing him faster than he’d like.
The courage he’s building to ask Iso out dwindles every second he locks eyes with Brimstone passingly. Like the sand falling down an hourglass’ neck, Brimstone’s patience for Chamber is also running out. It revives every time he’s thinking about Iso.
“Iso!”
The man appears like a wish come true—he’s out of his uniform, wearing a tee and pants, talking to Raze, looking like a fragrance commercial. “Raze. You’re as busy as a bee.”
“Never mind me,” Raze waves a screwdriver. “Where are you off to?”
“Just passing by. The heat’s making me crave a boba,” Iso says. When his eyes suddenly meet Chamber’s, the world tunneled its focus to Iso. Suddenly, all Chamber can hear is Iso saying, “Hi, Chamber.”
“Coucou.”
“Coucou?” Chamber hears Raze echo weakly.
Iso doesn’t mind her. Instead, he keeps his attention to Chamber. “Would you like me to get you boba?”
“Boba?” Raze echoes louder.
“I would love that,” comes Chamber’s autonomous reply.
“You,” Raze points at Chamber, “Like boba too?”
“The club had to expand one way or another,” Iso says. “I’ll get your usual.”
“Not a problem,” Chamber replies.
Meanwhile, Raze is shocked. “Iso, you never ask me!” She stares at Iso who is laughing at her.
“Club members only. You don’t like boba anyway!”
“Oh, you are not escaping me, mon-sir!” Raze waves her wrench threateningly at Iso, who is slowly backing away. “I’ll get into the bottom of this!”
“I have to go. Bye!”
Iso evades a screw Raze throws at him at a speed that can possibly rival Neon. Chamber doesn’t know what to make of it, other than the looming wave of questions from Raze and his own cloud of anxiety. His shoulders tense when Raze eyes him like a hawk. All while Iso have spared himself the confrontation.
“Cuckoo? Boba? Usual?” Raze pushes herself off the chair, “Since when did you two get so close?”
Chamber cautiously backs away. “The friendship between coworkers is inévitable.”
“There’s that look on Iso’s face though,” Raze remarks.
“What face?”
“That face!” She points, “That face you make when you’re double think what you say around someone. You made that face too—”
“I did not make any face!”
“—Oh, I get it. You’re courting each other.” At first, she’s gasping. Then, she’s laughing.
“There is no such thing! C’est faux!” Chamber feels his cheeks heat.
Raze does a face—that face when someone has guessed a near-impossible thing. Chamber has given up pretending a lie. “I knew it!”
“You cannot tell him of this!” He says suddenly, “I wish to take it… seriously.”
Her expression transforms into one of surprise, “That’s new.”
“Yes,” Chamber sighs. “It is both an unpleasant and pleasant feeling.”
“Don’t be offended—it never crossed my mind that you did ‘serious.’”
“This is not a joke.”
Raze chuckles, “Hey, I’m not joking. I’m supportive! I have a good feeling about this.”
What good feeling she possesses must be specific to Raze and Raze only, because all Chamber can feel are the motions of his upset stomach. Still, the verbal reassurance relieves a little anxiety. He’s not close with the music and explosion enthusiast, but her friendship with Iso and her unconditional approval of their budding romance boost his confidence significantly.
A road trip with Iso is not too far-fetched a dream.
Chamber is rushed to France with Clove, Iso, and Skye after Killjoy alerted the Protocol of a signal spike. In the transport aircraft, Chamber naturally gravitates beside Iso. The team waits quietly, accompanied by their weapons, radianite, and the muted hum of the aircraft’s engines.
It’s obvious how the other man feels. Chamber instinctively wants to lighten the mood. “You look like someone just pulled you out of bed.”
“It’s too soon,” Iso says. “They’re attacking too soon.”
What reassurance Chamber has on his mouth dries before it leaves his lips. It’s impossible to find the right words for a man before war. Chamber only has his hands to warm Iso’s cold skin. So, he gives what he can—he puts a hand over Iso’s gloved hands.
“I got your back,” Chamber says. “I can’t guarantee what will happen, but I can guarantee what I’ll do. Je te soutiens.”
Doubts fill Chamber’s mind in the split-second Iso freezes under his touch, before Iso quickly relaxes. Chamber knows then that Iso welcomes the touch because he’s reaching for Chamber’s hand. Their fingers touch when Iso rubs his thumb on the back of Chamber’s palm. The gentleness either man has surprises him; he never imagined himself to feel vulnerable around a friend.
“有我呢. I got you too.” Iso finally takes Chamber’s hand on his own.
The French man feels his own hands shake, but he’s not nervous. It’s the kind of shake that reminds him of tree branches swaying from a strong gust of wind, shedding its leaves in autumn and bracing another winter. It’s the shake hidden on rolled leaves that comes after a juvenile butterfly breaks out of its cocoon. It mirrors the relief or thrill of starting something new and good.
The afternoon sky is pink in Toulouse when the team departs from the aircraft.
Minutes later, Chamber is on the passenger seat of a jeep heading to another signal that spiked just moments earlier.
“Now turn left,” Killjoy informs through the telecom.
“Acknowledged,” Iso responds behind the wheel.
Chamber holds onto the strap of his seat belt, cringing as Iso drives into the evening traffic. “Merde,” he whispers through gritted teeth.
Despite his heart nearly beating out of his chest, Chamber feels himself laugh. He’s imagined himself in a similar situation with Iso, both clad in polos and shorts, passing the same city traffic under the same afternoon sky while the city lights border his hazel tinted sunglasses.
Except, Iso’s on the driver seat and Chamber’s hanging onto dear life in their Protocol uniforms, chasing a spike signal 15 minutes away from their initial target.
“Turn left after the intersection. The alley after a pharmacy is your target,” Killjoy says.
“Acknowledged,” the driver echoes and finally takes his hand off his earpiece.
The absurdity of it makes Chamber laugh.
“What?” Iso says.
Chamber glances at Iso beside him. “Don’t mistake my smile. I take this very seriously.”
“You keeping secrets now?” When Iso spares him a smirk, his heart does a skip.
In that moment, while the jeep speeds through, Chamber’s perspective slows. The anticipation and thrill he felt when he touched Iso’s hand returns to him as strong as France’s wind on his face. He watches Iso reflect his feeling—happiness.
France blurs outside the car windows, but things are clearer to Chamber now. Suddenly, the Scirocco doesn’t matter, but the moment before him, sharing a closed, private space with Iso like this. For a moment, he can pretend only the seconds shared between him and Iso exists. Anywhere, anyhow, anytime with Iso is what he wants.
“No,” Chamber finally answers. “Just wishes.”
Hopeful, he returns his gaze to the road. They have a spike to defuse. This rush hour can suffice as a road trip for now.