Archive of Our Own ^beta

One of the best days of your life was the worst of his.

You met him. He lost her.

Life was unforgiving. And you had a knack for always being a little too late. Right place, wrong time.

The bullet was already through her head. Probably only a few years younger than you. Her blood splattering across the tile of the dingy hospital. The dull thud of her limp body hitting the ground next. But the look on his face was what was really burned into your brain.

Broken.

The first loss was always the hardest. You guessed somewhere inside your subconscious, you recognized it then, that he must have never lost anyone before. A fracture, a fissure, something that couldn't be fixed cracking open the second her skull did.

"Hand it over," a low voice called out from the shadows. The black end of a barrel sticking out as a bulky brute stepped forward.

You weren't supposed to be here. All you wanted was some extra goddamn bandages. Some antiseptic. Not to witness whatever the fuck was going on. But that was the trouble with scavenging, you never knew what you might see - or who might get shot.

Neither of them had noticed you crouched on the decrepit stairwell landing above them, half-hidden behind a rotting wood barrier someone set up a lifetime ago - and if you were smarter, you could've ran. Could've curled up and turned your cheek. But you'd wager you'd be doing the wasteland a favor if you got rid of one more asshole who thought just because he had a gun meant he could get away with whatever he wanted.

The way you saw it, there was only ever going to be two people walking out of here. So why not pick the guy who hadn't just shot a girl?

It took approximately two seconds to line your aim up and pull the trigger. Two more for his body to fully crumple.

Saving a life by ending another one.

You saw the shock switching to strained focus - the dark-haired stranger's eyes narrowing to slits when he searched for where the bullet had come from and found you.

There was a thick pause, the kind you could taste in the air. Tension and regret teetering on a tightrope when you didn't immediately lower your gun.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he spoke slowly, sensing your apprehension. Sharp nose turned up, lips pressed together as he showed you his open palms.

"Why did he kill her?" You swallowed hard, shifting your aim lower, not his head or his heart, but the only other place a man really cared about getting shot at.

"He wanted this," he admitted, holding his arm up.

You should've guessed. Should've known the second you realized he'd never really watched someone ripped from his hands before.

He was from a fucking vault.

A pip-boy on his wrist. Just missing that bright blue vault suit. But even though he was dressed like he was one of you - he didn't carry himself the same. His chin was still held too high, his hair long, a silky sheen to it even when it was half-tied up, messy strands hanging loose in his face. No freckles from the sun. No scars.

No wonder he was being robbed.

Raiders would murder anyone for a few caps and rotting fruit. Something like that? He was waving a bright flag begging to be killed.

"You're-"

"Yeah," he grimaced, anticipating your apprehension.

"What are you doing here?" You reluctantly asked next. The finger resting on the trigger twitched, an uncomfortable sticky feeling churning in your gut, adrenaline still racing through you as the blood continued to pool and collect between both of you on the floor.

Vault-dwellers didn't come to the surface unless they had to. Bright-eyed and hellbent on changing the world - blissfully unaware of what kind of nightmare they were walking into until someone shot at them or a mutated creature tried chewing their leg off. You'd only ever seen one before today - but you were a child back then, barely conscious enough to remember the encounter, watching from behind your mother's skirt at your family's farm.

What remained of life today could be reduced to a handful of unfortunate facts. Some assholes had decided atomic bombs were the solution. A few even luckier assholes got to sit out the apocalypse in cushy vaults with beds and rations. Everyone else got lethal doses of radiation and condemned to this hellscape even centuries later.

There were rumors. Stories whispered over whiskey about experiments, people who'd sworn they'd been to vaults just to find it deserted or everyone dead inside. You didn't really believe morons who'd waste all their caps on chems though.

"I was supposed to bring her back home," he muttered, looking down at who you guessed used to be his friend. A family member or fellow vault-dweller. He didn't give a name. Didn't tell you her story.

It wasn't your business. But you'd stuck your nose in the middle of it anyway.

"Oh," you breathed.

He took a small step forward, and you let him. Didn't retreat, even though your reflexes were screaming at you too. He might not have grown up fending off irradiated creatures and avoiding raiders, but he had an advantage you didn't.

He was healthy. Tall and broad, well taken care of. Had years of proper nutrition and probably taught to fight where you were forced to learn.

"Why did you kill him?" He asked. You wondered what sort of answer he expected. What someone like him made of someone like you.

"It was you or him," you shrugged.

That was how this world worked. There wasn't time to hesitate. Debating a decision usually meant death.

You acted first. Wished you hadn't later.

"So why me?"

His question was raw. A nerve exposed and fraying. He didn't look down at the body by his feet. You did though. Spared a glance for the girl who wouldn't get anymore. You had a feeling what he was asking hadn't been meant for you. That he wanted the world to tell him why he was still standing and she wasn't.

You didn't have a good answer for him.

It was hard to read him. His eyes were dark, and you couldn't make out the color from here, daring you to give him a reason to believe in. To glue his logic back together for him.

"Because you cared about what happened to her," you slowly said, the words uncomfortable on your dry tongue. That was rare out here. Caring.

He stared at you. The muscles of his jaw pulled tight, keeping his mouth sealed as he studied your face. What did he see there?

Just another wastelander trying to survive?

You supposed you weren't the same caliber as the vault girls who could shower and sleep in a bed every night. But then again, they hadn't been the ones to just save his life, had they?

"Do you want caps?" He asked, his voice hoarse. So he wasn't totally clueless.

"For this?" You frowned, exhaling as you looked at the mess on the floor. "No."

"Then-"

"Are you hurt?" You interrupted him, noticing a wound on his arm, right above his pip-boy. Trying to piece the puzzle of him together by rearranging what little bits you had.

You'd come to the hospital to search for supplies. What about him? Had he done the same?

"I'm fine," he muttered, glancing back towards the no-longer functioning exit sign.

"Infection's can get pretty nasty out here, vault boy," you warned, stepping closer to the edge of the top stair.

You managed to get a better look, just to discover he was bleeding. A gash that ran from all the way up to his elbow. Mean and deep, one that would probably leave a scar or lead to sepsis if untreated.

"I can take care of myself," he grumbled, lips pulling together in a tight line.

"Doin' a pretty bad job at it," you commented.

You sheathed your gun. Snagged a spare stimpak from your bag and tossed it to him.

He looked almost more surprised when he caught it and realized what you were offering. A gift being given to a man who'd probably be dead in another week or two wandering around here with a pip-boy on his wrist.

At least he knew better than to turn it down.

Begrudgingly using it, his knuckles white around the side while he stuck it in his skin.

You weren't sure yet if this was all some horrible misguided idea, but you figured if you were making mistakes, you might as well add another. You gestured down to the girl on the ground, "Do you want some help burying her?"

Honestly, you were pretty sure he only said yes because he didn't know where the closest cemetery was.

He told you his name was Suguru. Tried to open doors for you even when he was holding a dead body. Quietly asked a few questions - if you were okay. If you were hurt. Both felt like begrudging admissions, things he'd been built to do rather than wants of his own.

But it was still better treatment than anything else you'd be given.

He didn't say anything after you answered. You supposed you didn't make much of a companion either.

But he hadn't judged you either when you searched the other gunman's body before you left the hospital, just looked away when you emptied out his chamber and pocketed everything you could. You left his gun though. The weight of the lives you'd taken with your own was heavy enough.

You had found an old sheet in a closet, frayed with a few holes in it, but it worked well enough, draping it over the nameless girl.

He picked her up. Carried her in his arms. And you kept lookout.

The closest cemetery almost a mile out. City planners could've placed it closer - but you guessed they were buried somewhere under rubble or irradiated away after the bombs dropped long before you were ever born.

The concrete had long since cracked, potholes and weeds threatening to trip you up.

But you both kept going. Kept walking.

"You've lost people before," he observed, talking low, like someone might overhear.

"Plenty," you shrugged.

Your family's farm used to be part of a settlement. Now they were all that's left. Yours wasn't the only story like that. Everyone you met had some sad backstory worth sobbing over.

"You've killed people before," he added.

You didn't have anything to say to that, but your silence said it anyway. Plenty.

"I do what I have to," you murmured. To stay alive and still be able to live with yourself.

He nodded, like he understood. But you could tell he didn't. Not really. Not the same way someone who used their gun for something other than show did.

"Have you?" You asked, a slight tremble to your question.

"No," he admitted.

You wondered how long it'd take for that to change out here.

"If you don't mind me asking, um, how long have you been out here?" You quietly mumbled, stealing a glance over at him before looking back around for any movement in the edges, behind buildings or on rooftops.

"Two weeks," the stranger grunted, grinding his back molars together with a low sigh.

You shut up.

He'd probably seen more horrible shit in the past two weeks than he had in the rest of his life combined.

Still, he kept looking down at his wrist, checking his pip-boy until you you were at the rusted-out gates, bent and broken.

The cemetery was creepy. Headstones that didn't bear the letters or markers they used to, eroded away after so long. There were a few open ones, holes dug up with no bodies left inside. A shovel too, left abandoned in the dirt. You had questions. Concerns, really. Wondering who'd done it - and who was dug up.

But right now, you supposed this was about convenience. Ritual. The closest thing you could have to a funeral.

The stranger, Suguru, placed her body down softly, smoothed out the fabric before he started covering it up. Fresh dirt piled on top as he let this piece of his past go.

You wished you had something to say. Knew anything about her other than what face she'd been making when she died. But you kept your mouth sealed instead, went and picked a pretty flower, one of the few that still bloomed and placed it on the dirt after he patted it down.

"Did she have a favorite?" You asked, stealing a glance.

"I, uh, I don't know," he admitted.

"Oh," you blinked.

Somewhere in the distance, a gun fired. And it took you half a second to decide it wasn't nearly distant enough.

"Shit," you cursed, reaching out for his arm out-of-instinct. Searching for cover, and grinding your teeth at the realization you'd have to go the long way to your current hideout. If it hadn't been compromised.

"This way," he grunted, a firm hand grabbing your wrist before your fingers could make first contact.

You were too surprised to fight back - and a second round of gunfire had him dragging you behind a thick line of bushes and into the closest building, using his shoulder to bust through the door.

All your ingrained instincts wanted to protest, to insist that it wasn't safe to go barging in places.

But he pulled you in behind him, shielded you, lead you up rickety stairs and into a small room. If you had to guess, it was some sort of old apartment building. Maybe an old raider hideout - clearly not one currently being used judging by the layer of dust on everything, the empty bottles of wine and whiskey left out on the cluttered surfaces.

Still, Suguru barricaded the door. Flipped the only table inside over and propped it against the door, displaying more sense than you'd originally given him credit for while you peeked through the window. It barely let in enough light to see.

"So what now, vault boy?" You dryly asked, lips pressed together as you tried to spot the source of the gunfire.

"Suguru," he reminded you, and you caught the twitch of his frown when you peeked over your shoulder.

"I know," you nodded.

He chuckled, and it was nice. Normal had never been an option for you - and this situation was as far as fucking normal for you as it could be.

"I don't think anyone saw us," you added, fingers still clinging to the edges of the curtain, slowly pulling it closed.

"They're still close," he argued.

You wondered if he even knew what all was out there.

"What now?" You asked again.

He didn't get it. Brows knitting together and jaw clenching as he shrugged the backpack off his shoulder and on the floor. You noticed for the first time he did have a gun on his holster.

"Stay here until it's safe," he simply said.

Was the rest of his life like that? Did decisions come easy to him?

"For you, I mean?" You clarified, setting your own stuff down with a sigh, glancing around for a clean place to sit and settling for the thin sleeping bag on the floor. "After this."

He at least hesitated to answer that one. "Go back, I guess."

"To the vault?" The word felt foreign on your tongue. Like you were somehow admitting dinosaurs and dragons were real.

"Yeah," he nodded, but he looked a lot less happy about it than you'd expect for someone who was supposed to have a cushy place to call home.

"Will you like, get in trouble for what happened to her?" You quizzed, regretting asking after it came out. You cringed, frowning as you tried to make it sound less, well, crude. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying-"

"Probably," he dryly answered. Suguru, on the other hand, had still retained his composure.

"That sucks," you swallowed uncomfortably.

"I didn't know her that well," he admitted, brushing his bangs back out of his face and taking the sleeping bag across from you to sit on.

"You still watched her die," you mumbled.

"I wasn't going to bring her back. She said something," he started to say, dark eyes cloudy with something hard to discern. "Before she-"

Four more shots cut through the silence - much closer than they were before. You both froze.

Forced to shut up and endure an hour of gunfire being exchanged, shouts and screams from a building that couldn't have been more than a few blocks away.

Neither of you spoke. Didn't bother trying to keep conversation when you had no idea what was lurking nearby.

By the time it died down, when whatever was out there was dead and whoever had killed it had left, it was dark outside. The sun had set and the street was dark. He grabbed a blanket from the broken bed frame, closed the curtains tighter and draped it over the rod. It bent, but it didn't break.

Held fast and blocked out all the light when he flickered on the only lantern in the room. The orange flame cast shadows across his face, made all his features sharper, more dangerous in the dark.

"We can stay the night," he grumbled. "Sleep in shifts."

"Fine," you shrugged.

If you were more sane, you'd say no. But you had a funny feeling you were safe with him.

"Head out in the morning before the sun rises," he added.

But there wasn't a we that time.

"What direction are you headed in?" You asked, attention drifting down to his pip-boy after his did.

And in a spectacularly awkward move, you switched seats, taking the spot next to him to see what kept capturing his attention.

There was a map on there - brightly backlit, buildings outlined and markers pre-set. It was fascinating, holding your breath when you scooted closer. You wanted to press the buttons, to see what all he'd found.

"South," he murmured, pointing at what just looked like an empty patch a few cities away.

"It'll take you a couple weeks," you frowned. You wanted to ask which way he'd came - but you weren't sure how many more questions he'd tolerate. He could cut a few days out if he went through some more dangerous bits. But if he wanted to survive, he'd have to skirt around the fastest options.

"I have enough supplies," he huffed.

"There's lots of stuff to look out for around here," you murmured, bending over to trace your finger over his map. Clearly, his luck had run out today - who knew what tomorrow would bring? "Lots of bad people."

"Like him?" There was weight to his voice. Anger still simmering under the surface. Disgust.

"Worse," you admitted.

His expression darkened. You could see him trying to calculate it. To figure out what you could be talking about.

"Chem peddlers, traffickers, people that would trade you and take apart your organs for a couple caps," you continued, wishing you had a blanket to pull around you tighter. "Some rumors have been going around about settlers getting ripped from the streets and replaced by synths. But the everyday stuff's scarier. Sure, you have to look out for ghouls and mutants. But just going for a drink in a tavern could wind up with you waking up somewhere else with a slave collar around your neck."

His shoulders were stiff, jaw too tight as he slowly nodded.

You hoped he'd heed your warning. Not need to find out firsthand for himself just how dangerous the wasteland was.

"How can-" He started, but he stopped himself, brows furrowed in frustration. "How do they get away with it?"

You shrugged again, swallowing hard. "Who's gonna stop them?"

So what if you shot one of them? Someone else would join tomorrow?

The cycle would just keep going, a snake consuming itself until there was nothing left.

"Someone-"

"People are scared," You cut him off. His ideals were nice. As pretty as he was. But standing up for other people got you killed more often than not. "It's hard enough to survive out here as is."

"You did it," he bluntly reminded you. "You saved me."

It was hard not to smile at that, one corner of your mouth curling up just a hint. An excuse was already leaving your lips, "Well, I'm not the smartest."

It was just who you were. And one day, your luck would run out and it'd be your body bleeding out. You just hoped someone like him would care enough to bury you too.

"So why are you out here?" He eventually asked, and you could feel his eyes searching you again. Always analytical.

You exhaled, fishing out the note from the bottom of your bag. You folded it neatly when you first put it in, but it was crumpled now, a few stains splotching the edges. Still, you held it out for him to read.

It was a letter from home.

Only a few short sentences.

Caravan came around looking for you again. Stay away.

"A caravan?" Suguru asked, glancing up, the veins in his hands standing out as he gripped the note.

"Usually they only come by every month to trade stuff. But I'm guessing these guys were probably hired by raiders," you explained. "It seems someone wants me dead."

The kind of people who showed up at your home searching for you usually didn't have good intentions. It started a few months ago, when you came home from being away scavenging for a few days to find your family panicking and packing your bags for you. A stranger had walked right up to their door, asking if you were there when you were gone.

So they lied. Shooed you away in case he came back. You tried to convince them to find somewhere safe to stay too, passed your usual courier letter after letter once you had a hideout. But all you got back was that.

Stay away.

You had pissed off a few people. Put bullets in enough raiders to get noticed, you supposed.

Although, you weren't sure how they'd figured out where you were from. If they'd followed you home unnoticed, they could've just shot you. Killed your family too.

But they didn't. They were waiting for something. For you, evidently.

"What are you going to do?" He asked, handing it back.

"No clue," you awkwardly laughed, slipping it back into your bag.

"Yeah," he sighed, rubbing his temple. "Me either."

At least you had someone to be clueless with - if only temporarily.

You spent an hour highlighting the best route for him, skimming over the worst details of the world he'd been basically walking blind through, but you could see the depression wearing on him, weighing his shoulders down with every new street or alley you told him to avoid.

And when the lantern died, the last of the oil used up, you insisted on taking the first shift. Watched him doze off, the faint flutter of his long black lashes and his chest rising-and-falling ever-so-slowly. You let him sleep an extra hour before shaking him awake, the sleeping bag crinkling underneath him when he frowned at the time and reprimanded you for not waking him sooner.

But really?

It was hard to sleep with someone watching you - especially someone like him. Someone you never would've believed was actually real just twenty-four hours ago.

What was more surprising?

A vault-dweller? Or a gentleman?

But eventually, your exhaustion won out - and you woke up right before the sun rose. He was standing, arms folded across his chest and scowling at the empty street.

"Morning, sunshine," you murmured, yawning as you sat up.

"Morning," he wryly muttered back.

He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag - the purified stuff - holding it our for you to take. It was already open, the cap not sealed.

"Swapping saliva already?" You teased, one corner of your lip curling up as you took a long sip of it. He started to roll his eyes, but you beat him to speaking again. "Not scared that I might have some scary wasteland disease?"

"Just drink it," he deadpanned, but there was more light in his eyes than there'd been before. Something other than the dull, lifelessness that'd been lurking in the corners of them last night.

You smiled at him - enjoying spending a few minutes with a man that wasn't criminally ugly or on chems.

And when you changed clothes, got dressed in one of the only spare sets you had? He turned his back before you could ask. Didn't pretend to not be looking and sneak a peek either.

In the back of your mind, you felt bad for having fun when you knew he was miserable. For enjoying this when he'd just lost somebody. Knowing he was struggling and still getting some stupid pleasure out of his presence.

A bitter taste lingered on your tongue when you finished getting ready, following him back down the stairs and outside again. Although, he hesitated in the brush, holding out his pip-boy.

"Do you need a map?" He murmured.

Truthfully, you had one, albeit a poorly-drawn attempt you'd made yourself. But you were stalling, so you nodded.

Pulling out the letter and a pen with drying ink, thanking him and struggling to keep your expression semi-neutral. You copied the map as close as you could, hesitating before leaning over to the buttons on the side of his pip-boy. It was more intuitive than you expected. You moved it around, made your best approximation before adding a marker.

"What's that?" He asked, leaning over to look.

"If you ever need a safe place to stay," you shrugged. "Even if I'm not there."

"Yeah?" The lump in his throat bobbed, and your stomach fucking fluttered.

"Who knows? You might get kicked out," you tried to tease, but even that came out wrong. Taunting instead of teasing.

But he just paused, eyes glancing down at it, and you guessed you weren't so far off.

He didn't answer though, and you just shoved your new map back in your bag, with a question mark hovering over. the spot he'd gestured to last night.

"So, I guess, I'll see you," you added, stepping back and glancing over your shoulder.

"Yeah," he nodded.

Except - when he started walking, he went in your direction. North. You stopped, but he didn't. Just kept on. Slow, steady steps forward. A man on a mission.

"That's, um, the wrong way," you pointed out, shrugging your backpack strap up higher and catching up to him.

He grinned, and for a second, he felt like a friend. "I know. Change of plans."

"Care for some company then?"

"You've got something in your hair."

Dirt? Sticks? Blood?

There really wasn't any telling.

Suguru stopped you on the stairwell, leaning in just enough to pluck a twig from your hair. Close quarters felt a hell of a lot closer when you were with him.

"Thanks," you murmured, turning your head away to hide the heat rising to your face and continuing up the last few stairs and out an open doorway to a dark hall in an abandoned dormitory. Half the building had caved in, the structural integrity in here not all that safe either. Your thighs ached from the stairs, from the past few hours of non-stop moving, but you only had a handful of hours to scavenge for something to eat and find a place to sleep.

"No worries."

You'd been traveling with him for four days. Which you guessed didn't sound like that long, but when you were constantly together, walking or hiding or eating, you kind of had to get comfortable fast.

All you had was him. Each other.

Well, until you reached whatever his new destination was.

You collected facts about him, tucked them in some secret compartment of your heart to treasure. He was born in February. He had a best friend named Satoru. He's never seen a cat. He likes the color purple. The girl he'd been traveling with was Riko. He had only met her once before this.

He'd never even left the vault until almost three weeks ago. His entire life spent underground - walking the same hallways and sleeping under the same ceiling.

It wasn't like anything he told you was of real substance. No grand secrets or sensitive confessions. But they still made up who he was - and you were quickly discovering how much you liked who he was.

A crush wasn't something you ever indulged yourself in.

Why bother when half the men you ran into hadn't bathed properly in years?

But you were starting to have the creeping suspicion that even if Suguru was just as filthy and fucked up as the rest of them, you'd still feel this stupid tug in your stomach every time he was around.

"Do you have any bobby pins?"

Suguru's brows scrunched together, shoulders stiff and back pressed against the rotting wood frame as he exhaled. "Why would I-"

You gestured to his hair, the loose bun he'd tied it in today, somehow managing to make his stray hairs look tasteful instead of trashy. But his protest just turned into a grimace.

But you just sighed, digging one out of the bottom of your pocket, bending it just right and sticking it in the lock. Twisting it around, carefully fiddling and fucking with it to get the internal pins to disengage.

It was an acquired skill - something you'd done enough times to be pretty good at now. You'd certainly gone through enough broken bobby pins over the years to earn it.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered beside you.

"Yeah, you hummed, listening as the lock un-clicked. "So is starving."

"I have food," Suguru started, talking softer, more on guard as you pulled your bobby pin out and pocketed it again. Your hand hesitated on the doorknob, throwing him an only slightly exasperated look.

"For one person, and for a limited time," you reminded him. "It's better to save it for when we need it."

He brought a pretty decent amount of rations, had even shared some of his preserved food with you, but his pack would run out sooner or later - especially considering his, well, change of plans.

Which, he still hadn't exactly divulged. The first day, when you tried to ask where he was headed, he shrugged, saying he wanted to help solve your problem first.

You scoffed at that.

The sentiment was sweet.

Despite your terrible attempts, you really just didn't know how to properly explain to him that trying to take down whatever raider was after you would just lead to another one popping up to take their place. They held grudges. Didn't give a shit who they killed, only about what got in their way.

Your best bet was hoping if you laid low long enough, they'd forget you existed or assumed you died to one of the other hundred things trying to murder you out here. Wait a few months, maybe half a year, before checking back in with your family.

If you lived that long.

Suguru had looked at you like that wasn't a good enough answer. Like there had to be more the two of you could do.

But you saw the dark flicker in his eyes, the telltale twitch of his lips that there was something else going on. More he wouldn't say. He was just using you as an easy excuse not to explain what he was really searching for out here.

There wasn't any redemption to find in the wasteland though. Your reputation certainly wasn't clean. Every day out here just added another sin to the long list of them you'd been compiling.

"Let's just make it quick," he murmured now, nodding towards the door.

It wasn't like you particularly enjoyed breaking into places that used to be a home. That most likely housed a dead body or two. But a door being locked usually meant something had been left behind.

"Just cover your nose and wait out here," you warned, slipping your gun out and frowning as you slowly tried to pull it open, hesitating at the first crack to see if you could spot any traps or anything that screamed this was a set up.

All clean.

Suguru kept his protests sealed while you took the first step inside. The floorboards creaked under your feet, the stench of something musty filtering through the dark apartment but lacking the familiar sickly sweet tinge of decay. So no ghouls or other rotting corpses left behind here.

"Anything?" He called out as your eyes adjusted to the low lighting.

"Don't worry," you teased, your finger easing off the trigger as you cleared through each room. No signs of life - mutated or not. "I'll protect you, pretty boy."

Suguru was behind you when you glanced around. Leaning against the still-open door frame, one dark eyebrow arched up.

He tolerated your flirting. A hint of amusement he tried to hide glinting in the edges of his expression. Weighing out how serious you might be but never acting on it.

You could appreciate his cautiousness - could probably use some yourself.

But you tried to remind yourself that your time with him was temporary. Just throwing him a casual smile before continuing to rifle through the belongings of someone long-gone.

There were a few dusty boxes of gumdrops hidden in a dresser. Four cans of cram in the back of the tiny pantry. Two boxes of mac and cheese.

The real prize was the single bottle of Nuka-Cola left in the no-longer functioning fridge.

"Ever have one of these?"

He squinted at it as you held up the dark bottle. Shutting the door to the dorm behind him with a low thud and flicking on the lantern he'd brought from the run-down diner you'd stayed at the night before.

"No," he answered, placing your only real light source down on the cracked countertop.

"Your lucky day," you laughed, twisting off the cap and pocketing it before offering it out to him. "Cherry-flavored."

Well, whatever chemical they put in and called cherry, but still.

You knew it didn't really hold any relevancy to him. That he had no way to know if it was rare or special.

But he still threw a sickeningly charming grin your way before grabbing the bottle and taking a long sip.

You liked watching him drink. And eat. And laugh. Anything. He moved with a certainty, a gracefulness you lacked.

So yeah, he might say he wanted to help you. But your plans had changed too.

Maybe you couldn't go home any time soon, but maybe you could help him get back to his.

"Can I check your map?" You muttered as he swallowed, dragging your stare away from watching the lump in his throat bob when he swallowed.

He passed the glass soda bottle back to you, letting you drink after him as he held out his wrist. You relaxed a little once you realized where you were on the map matched what you thought. The buildings around here were familiar - scratched the back of your brain.

"I think I know where we can sleep tonight."

✰ ✰ ✰

"Here?"

"Okay, maybe it's not much. But it's safe." you started, frowning. "Ish."

Suguru sighed. Let himself scowl for a second as he looked between you and the latest spot you convinced him to come to.

"I liked the bunker better," he muttered.

You tried not to roll your eyes at him. He only said that because he hadn't seen the inside of it - which consisted of a single dirty mattress and a trunk filled with random ammo rounds and expired food. You'd only shown it to him as a rendezvous point, a reference in case you made it here just to discover raiders or something else that might lead to you getting separated.

The settlement was small. Poorly-erect buildings, water pumps being cranked and a few loose brahmin wandering nearby. An middle-aged man working the crops, pulling tatos off the vine, moles and scars dotting his skin like freckles.

"One strong wind could probably blow this place over," he muttered, but he still followed when you took a few steps closer.

"Well, let's hope it's not windy tonight," you murmured back, rolling your eyes.

You'd been here before. A couple of times.

Done this family a favor or two, just enough to earn one for yourself. There were others, a handful scattered around the area, but they kept to themselves more. Wouldn't be so accepting of Suguru.

Two little girls peeked out from behind one of the shacks, ones that had been bumbling toddlers the last time you came by. They were watching you, probably didn't remember you at all now.

"Been a while," A gruff voice called out, and you glanced back over at where their dad had stopped picking crops to stare at you. His eyes raked over you, harsh and hardened. He was a dick every time you'd been here, but his wife had always been kind. Mended some of your ripped clothes once, showed you how to stitch things up yourself.

"Sure has," you sweetly said, trying to plaster on your prettiest smile to make up for the fact you'd brought a stranger around his family.

"What brings you back?" He grunted, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. He was grimacing at the guy by your side, clearly unhappy you were here.

"Need a place to stay for a night or two," you shrugged, tried to sound humble.

He didn't ask if Suguru was your boyfriend. Didn't want to know or didn't care. Just nodded slowly. "If you don't mind working the crops while you're here."

"Sure," you echoed, still keeping that smile in place.

"You can stay in the spare room," he grunted, jutting his thumb back. "Have to share a bed though."

"That's fine with us," you nodded, although you had to elbow Suguru to stop him from chuckling at your attempt to sound semi-tamed. Or trained.

"That was cute," he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You elbowed him again for that.

But for someone who grew up with classrooms and couches not stained and pockmarked with syringe holes, he actually did more work than you. Pulling out crops and planting new ones, even playing with the twins when they worked up the courage to come over to both of you.

There was something almost more appealing about him like this. With dirt under his nails and a pretty sheen of sweat on his forehead, eyes narrowed with focus and nimble fingers fast at work.

"What's your name?"

"Nanako," she murmured, the other one hiding behind her, peeking out with a stuffed animal dangling limp from her hand. "My sister's name is Mimi."

"Mimiko," The other one corrected in a tiny whisper. Frail. They were both underfed, but it wasn't that uncommon. It was hard enough to feed yourself. Forget about two growing girls. You glanced around the field, but their dad had gone back inside. So you slid off your backpack and scrounged through it for a pack of the gumdrops you found earlier.

Maybe it wasn't the most nutritious. And yeah, okay, it was a little irradiated. But it was better than being hungry.

"Do you guys like these?" You asked, and Nanako was quick to nod yes for both of them, practically snatching it out of your hand before you even finished. "You can have them."

"Thank you," she grinned, already peeling the wrapper back. Her little fingers struggled with it though, so Suguru slowly reached out to help. Getting it the rest of the way off before passing it back.

"You don't remember me, do you?" You tried to ruffle her hair, but it was awkward, stiff as you touched her slightly oily scalp and wondered when was the last time they bathed.

Children weren't all that common around here.

People still had them, but you'd probably guess the vast majority of them fell under the 'accident' category rather than anyone making the conscious choice to bring a life into this world.

"No," Mimiko admitted, holding out her hand to get a gumdrop from her twin.

"I helped your parents out a few years ago," you tried to make it sound comforting, but they just blinked at you, unable to place you in their memories. You glanced back towards the house, the patchwork of metal frames and rotting wood hardly held together. "Where's your mom?"

"Out back," Mimiko mumbled, but Nanako talked over her with the rest of the real story.

"Dead."

You wanted to crawl into a grave yourself at how monumentally you'd messed that one up.

Suguru stiffened next to you. Your jaw clenched, molars grinding as you tried to think of some way to recover from that one.

"I'm sorry," he covered for you, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.

What were you supposed to say?

Any sorry, any apology you had to offer didn't make their life any less hard.

There was the loud creak of the door opening, and you automatically were turning, head snapping to the sound on instinct.

Their dad stepped out, glancing between the four of you with a tight-lipped glare before grunting at you, "Water pumps on the side if you want to wash up."

You didn't particularly like him. But clean water was too hard to pass up.

"Thanks," you smiled back, throwing your hand up in a small wave.

An hour later, you were changed, most of the dirt scrubbed off with lukewarm water, hair hanging damp and changed into the cleanest pair of clothes you had. Comfort was minimal here, just as fleeting as everything else, but it felt almost, well, cozy.

The bed was just a thin mattress covered by a scratchy quilt. The only pillow missing most of its fluff. The windows boarded up. The girls' room was next door, and you could hear the occasional whisper and giggle through the paper-thin walls.

But it didn't have bones or empty beer bottles, so it was better than most of the other accommodations you'd stayed in.

"You dressed?" Suguru's voice called through the door.

"Yeah," you replied, walking over to pull it open and let him in.

Your breath got stuck in your lungs when you saw him on the other side. But that was just the effect he tended to have on you.

"Probably feels nice to be clean again, huh, vault boy?" You teased, trying to hide how hard you were staring.

His hair was down, still-wet bangs swept across his forehead, a gray t-shirt straining over the muscles of his toned chest. You could see just how clear his complexion was, a warm glow to him that didn't quite match anyone else you'd ever met.

You barely managed to get your muscles to move so he could squeeze past you.

"You were right," he casually said, and you couldn't help but wish he commented on how he thought you looked all cleaned up. "This was a good idea."

"Yeah?"

"Feel bad for those girls though," he softly added, quiet enough that they wouldn't hear. A frown flitted across his face as he squatted down to search through his bag for something. When he didn't find it, he started fiddling with his pip-boy.

Curiosity churned in your stomach, but you weren't sure how close you were. If it would be weird if you prodded by asking what he was doing or make you sound too clingy.

"Me too," you mumbled, replaying the memory of earlier and cringing at yourself. If you weren't already so exhausted, you were sure you would be up half the night hating yourself for it.

"I can't believe you-"

"Shut up," you cut him off before he could continue, groaning and laying down flat on the bed. The mattress whined underneath you but he just chuckled at you, all honeyed and low.

You wanted to hear it again already.

It was greedy. You were greedy. But how were you supposed to help it?

When for the first time in forever, he made you consider that this hell didn't have to be one.

✰ ✰ ✰

You woke up to gunfire.

It wasn't the first time. But it never got any easier, any less jarring.

Suguru was up first, a hand on your chest, holding you down while he sat up and scanned the room first.

"There's-" He started in a hushed whisper.

"I know," you nodded, squirming out from underneath him.

Already running through a checklist in your head. Shoes. Gun. Bag. Suguru. Girls.

Their dad would probably get them, and it was definitely hypocritical considering how long you'd known your companion, but you couldn't bring yourself to put your faith in him when you'd only met him a few times.

"How far away-" Suguru started, but you held up your hand to stop him so you could listen as two more shots rang out.

"Get your stuff," you whispered.

Suguru was a better listener than any man you ever met before. Out of bed right after you, throwing on a jacket and getting his bag.

You were throwing your shoes on, grabbing your gun and slinging your bag over your shoulder, moving as fast as you could. Throwing one last glance at him, breath hitching in your throat. "Get the girls. Take them to the bunker."

Suguru grabbed your arm, firm fingers digging into your bicep as he stopped you. "You're coming with us."

You wanted to. So badly.

But this was one of those times you knew you couldn't be a coward. Not if you wanted to keep him safe. He saw it on your face too, scowling and tugging you closer as he shook his head, "No, you're not-"

"I'm just gonna distract them," You murmured, trying to reassure him, steeling your resolve and trying to seem far stronger than you really were.

If you went with him, you'd risk running into them out there - two girls in tow. And their dad was still here. Hopefully.

He threw you a look, but you were already tugging a knife out from your bag and slicing the thin wall separating your room from the girls, peeling the paper back and sticking your head through to see them cowering in the corner, scared out of their mind.

"C'mere, girls," you whispered, gesturing over, but they just shrunk back further against the walls. Shit.

Suguru stepped through the hole you made, throwing an apprehensive look towards their door. There was a window on the opposite wall, one of those big double-sided ones. It would be a tight squeeze, but you supposed Suguru could make it work - or manage to move one of the metal frame pieces.

Either way, time was running out, and you had to buy them some more.

Suguru took fast strides over to them, but they didn't try to recoil away from him.

"You're safe now, alright? We're gonna go get some fresh air," he soothed them, holding his hand out and once Nanako took it, Mimiko followed.

He looked out the window first, exhaling hard before slowly pulling it open. You helped him get each girl out, and he made it halfway out before throwing you a scolding look. Another soft plea with a sharp edge. "Come with us."

"Try not to die, okay?" You tilted your head, tried to hide how much you meant it.

"You too," he murmured.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," you promised, even though you had no way of knowing if you'd keep it.

There was another gun shot.

They kept getting closer. A minute, maybe two? And whoever it was would be here - that, or whatever they were fighting.

You crept through the door, the hallway eerily quiet as you pulled your gun out and got ready to use it. You grabbed a grenade you pilfered from an old military locker you found a year ago, one you weren't even sure worked.

Was the girls' dad dead already? Why the fuck hadn't he come for them?

You heard the voices before you saw them. Gruff. Loud. Grumbling about someone scamming someone else, asking for a hit and snarling when they got denied.

Raiders.

You froze, debated on running back to the girls room and escaping out the window with the rest of them.

"Has anyone checked the perimeter?" A louder voice called out, whoever was in charge, you guessed.

Even in a group as shitty and wild as theirs, where there were no laws or morals laid down, there was always a leader.

Someone who was worse than the rest.

No one answered though, just a grumbled chorus of voices from the direction of the living room. You tried to guess how many there were. Five? Six?

Too many to take on directly.

As silently as you could, you padded forward, approaching the only thing keeping you hidden from them.

A wooden door barely hanging on its hinges.

There was a busted window next to it. One that overlooked the fields, glass shards sticking out like it'd been shot or shattered. You glanced out, but you couldn't see anyone outside. They were all, for better or worse, barely ten feet away from you.

You watched through the thin gap. Gun already raised in one hand, grenade in the other, trying to figure out what your target should be. What your odds would be depending on who you shot.

The plan forming in your head was terrible.

But either way, you expected it'd ensure Suguru and the girls would make it to safety. You wished you'd told him to take them to your family's farm. They would at least get bathed and fed there. Or maybe his vault would take them in, provide them with a much better life than this.

Where the man of the house was on his knees. Hands on the back of his head, cheeks red and ruddy as he panted and pleaded, "Please, listen-"

Someone yawned.

Your eyes shifted to him.

A monster in human skin. Holding up a gun a lot fucking bigger than yours and glowering at him.

"Do you want caps? Crops?" You watched the man who'd been grumbling at you a couple blubber now. "I've got two girls, y-you could take them."

Your stomach twisted in flat-out disgust. Finger twitching on the trigger, ready to shoot him if the raiders didn't.

But he didn't stop there.

"There's, there's a cute one your age staying here too, and-"

His brains were on the wall before he could finish. You wished you could say it was an accident.

But it wasn't.

Before they could turn, see who'd put the bullet through his brain, you were tucking your gun in your waistband and pulling the pin out of the grenade to toss out the window.

Five seconds.

That was all you had to get as far away from there as possible.

Sprinting down the hall, the girls' bedroom door slamming against the wall right as the grenade went off outside. It rattled the frame. Hopefully sent all of them out front to check so you could escape out the back.

You were throwing yourself out the back window, body trembling with adrenaline, fingers shaking as scrambled on your feet to get away.

Already, you were trying to justify shooting him. Calling him an asshole in your head.

Telling yourself he offered up the girls. Offered up you. Was about to sell out Suguru. That the raiders would've killed him anyway. You just stole an extra minute or two of his life.

That didn't change the fact it had been you who pulled the trigger.

"Runnin' away from me?"

You didn't freeze at the rough voice behind you. You froze at the sound of the chamber being loaded.

And when you turned, you knew what you'd find.

You just thought you'd be a little sadder staring down at the barrel of a gun. That death would be scarier.

But you didn't flinch. Just stared him down, looked the raider who was ready to kill you right in the eyes.

Although, judging by the the pathetic passing thought that he was kinda hot, you guessed you'd skipped straight to the acceptance stage of grief. What was the point in mourning your life? You'd eventually be an unmarked grave and another depressing tally of loss to the few people who did care about you.

You waited for it to stop. For the world to end.

Studied the tattooed and scarred man standing in front of you, strands of soft pink hair tousled and tangled, loose dirt still stuck in them. His clothes were dirty, leather and armor well-worn and stained.

You expected him to have that same dead-eyed stare the other raiders typically had. Maybe strung-out on chems or drunk on bourbon. Brain riddled with radiation holes. But they were softer than you expected, a faint glimmer there, a dark shade of red you'd never seen before.

A mutation, genes trying and failing to repair the damaged and missing bits from the fallout even all these generations later.

"If you're gonna kill me, can you get it over with?" You frowned, daring him to do it.

He scoffed. But he didn't shoot.

Apparently, even raiders had more restraint than you.

He just glared at you with those intense eyes, like he was trying to drag you down with him, hold you hostage.

He stepped closer, and you didn't budge. Let him press the cold barrel right against your chest as he leaned in. His free hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so you were forced to face him.

Appraising.

Trying to pinpoint who you were by the shape of your frown, the crinkle of your nose. There was something familiar about his scowl, some faint recognition registering in his shrewd stare.

"Pretty," he murmured, deep voice gravelly and gritty. Your face started to scrunch up, but he continued, mocking you with the rest of his sentence, "Impulsive."

You wanted to call him ugly, but you had a feeling he'd just call your bluff. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew all his cards and how to play them.

So you kept your mouth shut, bit your tongue before he blew yours off.

"You could come with me," he offered, but it felt more like a mocking jab. He let go of your chin, brushed back a stray strand of your hair. Clicking his tongue with a dry laugh, "You'd fit in."

"I resent that," you glared at him.

Someone shouted, and for a split second, his attention shifted.

It was your only chance, and you took it.

Kneed him the only place that was guaranteed to stun a man, stealing his gun when his body reflexively bent over, a throaty groan ripped from him. You fucking hoped it hurt.

You didn't risk glancing - just bolted before he could react. Sprinting as fast as you could towards the trees, scraping your cheeks on stray branches, pulse pounding loud enough you couldn't hear if he was following.

It was dark out, voices behind you, shouting and cursing and a few stray shots.

The bunker's entrance was half-hidden, but your legs were moving on instinct, sore thighs propelling you there without stopping.

Like, literally.

You crashed into Suguru still at full speed. Toppling him over onto the half-dead grass, his body breaking your fall and his hands on your waist.

He wrapped an arm around your back, keeping you pressed to his chest as he propped himself up to look behind you, on high alert for what you were running from. You couldn't catch your breath, barely able to glance up at him, fumbling to wrestle control of yourself back from your panic-wracked brain.

But his thumb just swept over your shoulder blade in a comforting little half-circle, still searching through the tree line to tell if any more friends or foes might break through.

"Sugu-"

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I've got you, pretty girl."

Fuck.

You knew he was echoing your words back from earlier, but it still made your heart flutter. Your lips parted, about to murmur something back, but then there was the sound of heavy steps drawing near - and a single shot.

Not from you. But you weren't bleeding. Weren't hurt.

You started to look, but Suguru's other hand held your head down.

"Don't."

Hoarse, heavy. You knew what he did. Could feel the weight of it just from how hard his palm was pressed against your hair.

But you had to see for yourself. He was dead, whoever he was.

It wasn't the same guy who tried to shoot you.

A shame, really.

You'd stolen his gun and kneed him in what you guessed was his only sensitive spot after he showed you what he probably considered mercy by not immediately murdering you.

"We have to go," you whispered, your own pushing off of his chest and looking back at the limp body laying a few feet away, too close to the entrance of the bunker for comfort. "Like now."