Imagine Book 2 (Requests Welcome)

Defeat- Armando Aretas (Bad Boys: Ride or Die)

As requested by natiee3000! Fem Y/N

The Miami night was oppressive, a thick blanket of humidity that clung to Armando's skin as he stood on the balcony of his high-rise apartment. The city lights twinkled below, a constellation of neon and streetlamps that usually filled him with a sense of purpose. Tonight, they only served to mock him, each pinprick of light a reminder of another dead end, another false lead in his seemingly endless quest.

Armando's knuckles whitened as he gripped the railing, his jaw clenched so tight he could hear the grinding of his own teeth. How long had it been now? Too long. The days blurred together, an endless cycle of disappointment and barely contained rage. His father's killer was out there somewhere, laughing, living, breathing - while Mike Lowrey lay cold on the ground, justice denied.

The sound of soft footsteps behind him broke through the fog of dark thoughts. Y/N. His anchor in the storm, the one bright spot in a world that had become increasingly grey. He didn't turn, couldn't bear to let her see the defeat etched across his face.

"Mando?" Her voice was gentle, tentative. She knew these moods all too well. "You've been out here for hours. Come inside, please?"

Armando's shoulders tensed, his grip on the railing tightening further. "I can't," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't face another night of... nothing. Of failure."

Y/N stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. She didn't touch him, not yet. "You haven't failed," she said softly. "You're still fighting. That's what matters."

A bitter laugh escaped Armando's lips. "Fighting? Is that what you call this?" He gestured sharply at the cityscape before them. "Chasing ghosts? Following leads that go nowhere? I'm not fighting, Y/N. I'm drowning."

Finally, he turned to face her. The concern in her eyes was almost too much to bear. He didn't deserve it, didn't deserve her unwavering support when he felt like such a disappointment.

"My father deserved better than this," Armando said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He deserved a son who could bring his killer to justice. Who could make things right."

Y/N reached out, her hand hovering just above his cheek. "Armando, listen to me. Your father would be proud of you. Of your determination, your dedication-"

"My failure?" Armando interrupted, pulling away from her touch. He stalked back into the apartment, unable to stand still any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him with the weight of his own inadequacy.

"It's not failure," Y/N insisted, following him inside. "You're doing everything you can."

Armando whirled to face her, his eyes blazing. "Everything I can? Really? Then why is his killer still out there? Why do I wake up every morning knowing that the bastard who took my father from me is walking free?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw. Y/N didn't flinch, didn't back down. She'd seen Armando at his lowest points, had weathered the storms of his anger and grief.

"I don't have those answers," she said quietly. "I wish I did. I wish I could take this pain away from you, Mando. But I can't. All I can do is be here, to remind you that you're not alone in this fight."

Something in Armando seemed to crumble at her words. The anger drained away, leaving only a bone-deep weariness in its wake. He sank onto the couch, his head in his hands.

"I'm so tired, Y/N," he admitted, his voice muffled. "Tired of the dead ends, the false hopes. Tired of letting him down over and over again."

Y/N moved to sit beside him, close enough that their thighs touched. She didn't try to pull his hands away from his face, knowing he needed this moment of vulnerability.

"You're not letting him down," she said firmly. "You're honouring his memory every single day. By refusing to give up, by pursuing justice no matter how long it takes."

Armando let out a shaky breath. "But what if it never happens? What if I never find the truth?"

Y/N's hand came to rest on his back, a gentle, grounding pressure. "Then you'll know you did everything in your power. That you never stopped trying."

Slowly, Armando lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with a pain that made Y/N's heart ache. "I don't know if I can keep doing this," he confessed. "It's consuming me, Y/N. Every lead that goes nowhere, every witness that can't remember... it's like losing him all over again."

Y/N shifted, turning to face him fully. She took his hands in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "I know it feels that way," she said. "But you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Armando. You've come this far. And I promise you, you're not alone in this fight."

Armando's gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. "I don't deserve you," he murmured. "I've been so focused on this... this obsession. I've neglected everything else. Everyone else."

"Hey," Y/N said softly, using one hand to tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You haven't neglected me. I'm here because I want to be. Because I love you, Armando Aretas. All of you - including the parts that are hurting, the parts that are angry."

For a moment, Armando was silent, searching her face for any sign of insincerity. He found none. "I love you too," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just... I don't know how to let this go. How to move forward when there's still so much left unresolved."

Y/N nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Maybe it's not about letting go," she suggested. "Maybe it's about finding a way to carry it with you without letting it consume you. To honour your father's memory while still living your life."

Armando leaned back, his head resting against the couch. "I don't know how to do that," he admitted. "It's been my sole focus for so long... I'm not sure I remember how to be anything else but this."

Y/N's hand found his again, squeezing gently. "Then we'll figure it out together," she promised. "One day at a time."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Armando's face, there and gone in an instant. "You make it sound so simple."

"Oh, it won't be simple," Y/N said with a soft laugh. "Nothing worth doing ever is. But I believe in you, Mando. In us."

Armando's eyes closed, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked, vulnerability clear in his voice. "I... I don't want to be alone."

"Always," Y/N whispered, shifting to pull him into her arms as she kissed his forehead.

As they sat there in the dimly lit apartment, the city pulsing with life beyond their windows, Armando felt something he hadn't experienced in a long time - a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

The road ahead was still long and uncertain. The pain of his father's loss, the burning need for justice - those things wouldn't disappear overnight. But for the first time in years, Armando allowed himself to imagine a future beyond his quest for vengeance. A future with Y/N by his side, supporting him, loving him despite the darkness that sometimes threatened to consume him.

It wouldn't be easy. There would be more nights like this one, more moments of doubt and despair. But as Y/N's arms tightened around him, as he breathed in the familiar scent of her perfume, Armando made a silent promise to himself. He would keep fighting, keep searching for the truth about his father's death. But he would also fight for this - for the chance at happiness, for the love that Y/N offered so freely.

In the quiet of the night, with the weight of his grief momentarily lifted, Armando Aretas allowed himself to hope. And for now, in this moment, it was enough.