the other way around

1

"I need a good-looking doctor to protect me in the big, bad wasteland."

"Overt flirtation will get you everywhere, you know."

It had been some of their first words spoken to each other, albeit their second meeting. To think that such a small exchange would blossom like so seems farfetched to Arcade during most hours of the day. But, during the late ones when he and Aerri are recovering from travel, his thoughts turn into something of both fantasy and fear.

Fantasy of imagining better circumstances, fear of those fantastical moments not being as satisfying as fate's design.

Sometimes, though, when Aerri is heavily resting after one too many close calls with danger, Arcade hopes that their alternate selves are having a better life than them.

Perhaps a version of Arcade exists where the bombs had never fallen. Maybe he has a house, and a yard, and a fence that doesn't tower tens of feet above him.

Maybe he has a neighbour. One with a dog who won't stop running through his yard. Maybe that neighbour strikes up a conversation, apologising by offering dinner.

Maybe Arcade says yes.

And maybe, when Arcade's asked about himself, he doesn't have to hide it. He can say he had a normal life. He had two normal parents, who did the normal things everyone else did.

He can say he wasn't raised under military ideals, that he was raised to be whatever he wanted. A doctor, a researcher, a friend, a lover.

Would he still admire me without my burdens?

Arcade's thoughts spiral, not out of control, but in circles. Imagining other scenarios, desiring other moments. If Aerri hadn't been shot in the head. If they had both been Followers.

If they had both been Enclave.

It seems a vain effort to hope for another life when he feels as if he's lucky enough to have his current one. To be able to make such a difference in such a calloused, harsh, unforgiving world with what seems like the only other person who's willing to venture out and take direct action. All because he got a run of back luck.

Arcade glances over at Aerri. They're shacked up at Novac in his room, sharing the double bed as if it's a regular occurrence. Boone had given them a non-committal, "Evening," as they passed him on his way to watch duty.

Maybe Boone has a better life somewhere else, too. Maybe everyone does.

Aerri shifts in his sleep, huffing out of his nose, and Arcade resists an urge to push his companion's hair away from his eyes. He can't see them, but he can admire the contentment in his face, can revel in this peaceful moment when so much of their time together is stress and effort.

"Arcade...," Aerri mumbles, and for a split second, Arcade thinks that maybe he's being dreamt about. Then Aerri opens his eyes and smiles into the pillow, fixing the doctor with a sleepy gaze, "Can't sleep?"

"...No," Arcade admits. "Too busy thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing interesting."

Aerri huffs a laugh, adjusting so he can face Arcade a bit more.

"You always say that," he comments. "You always think your thoughts are boring, but I just don't believe you."

Arcade huffs, turning onto his back to face the ceiling and count the cracks. Aerri doesn't let him lament for long, propping himself up with an arm and looking down.

"Tell me what's on your mind," he says, though not at all demanding. "Promise I won't laugh."

"It isn't a laughing matter, but I'll have to take your word for it," Arcade hums, uncrossing and crossing his ankles under the covers, clasping his hands over his stomach as he contemplates. He sighs, the room quiet other than the faint sound of wind against the barricaded window. After too long, he speaks, "Do you ever... I mean, would you consider the possibility of an alternate reality?"