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Alejandro was many things — many of his unit called him tough, brave, stubborn, and those who were much closer knew him to be passionate in everything he did.
No one that knew Alejandro would call him soft. Perhaps Valeria did once, as an insult, but Alejandro Vargas was not soft. He was loud, a fire that could not be stamped out, one that raged on and on, a man who could not be killed. He was not soft.
But in this moment, as he stared at Rodolfo (Rodolfo and his wide, brown eyes he’d always find himself looking into longer than necessary) with his mouth agape and an excuse dying in the back of his throat, he wondered if his reputation would be changed from here on out.
They knew each other from before they were even the soldiers they were today. They knew each other as young men with wide eyes ready to make a real change. It was no surprise Alejandro kept his Rudy close, so close that a photo found its place in his pocket permanently.
It was nothing special — they went for drinks one night after a mission well done (which, thinking on it, was so rare they might as well have thrown a party for it), and sometime in the night they found themselves wrapping their arms around one another, smiling for a camera to take a photo neither of them would remember. It was sweet, really, and Rodolfo still had a similar photo in another pose hidden away in his locker.
Maybe he kept it for luck, maybe it was to remind himself of who he was on the harsh battlefield. Maybe it was something for him to clutch dramatically while taking his last breaths, apologies and confessions spilling out alongside his blood. Whatever the reason, Alejandro found himself holding onto that photo in any moment of need, reminding himself that it was there, and so was Rudy, to an extent.
And then once, he reached into his pocket as he fled the scene of a mission failed and his fingertips felt nothing. He didn’t want to cause a scene — because Alejandro was not soft — but he could not hide his awkward shuffling through every pocket of his and the way his head turned looking for the photo anywhere. He couldn’t run back to look, because he knew the cartel was not far behind, but in the comfort of his room that night he mourned the loss, mentally begging an imaginary version of Rodolfo to forgive him for losing their precious picture.
And then came along the camera — Rodolfo had it sent to him from a family member for something for him to do. A Polaroid camera, he explained, as the photo of Alejandro printed and his face began to show through after a long stretch of time. And Alejandro, in a brief moment of selfishness, snapped a photo of Rodolfo under the guise of just trying it for himself. If he ever noticed his own photo going missing after they finally decided to head home for the night, he never brought it up. Alejandro fiddled with the photo between his fingers on his bed, taking into detail every way Rodolfo’s face creased and where he could tell exhaustion weighed on him underneath his eyes. For a moment he wondered what troubled him, what kept him awake when he needed the sleep, before he reminded himself what their line of work brought with it.
And from then on, the photo took the place of their old one. He still wondered what happened to it, in fleeting moments as he brushed his fingertips over the new photo in his vest, but he grew to love Rodolfo’s new picture.
On this night they returned to the base they called home, tired but ecstatic from a job well done (which still deserved its own party, if they weren’t so exhausted. Aging gets to you.). It had been days since either of them had slept longer than an hour or so, but for some reason Rodolfo found himself trailing his commander until he heard something drop to the ground at his feet. Alejandro moved quickly, trying to pick it up before Rodolfo noticed it, but it proved in vain as he stared down at a picture of himself that he didn’t even remember taking.
He looked up at Alejandro, who was searching for an excuse, and he realized they were all too close and he could practically feel the embarrassment coming off of the other in waves. Alejandro leaned down to grab the photo, his photo, holding it between his fingers to avoid Rodolfo having to see him slip it into his vest again.
Rodolfo was flattered, truly. He kept photos of Alejandro in his locker for fear of losing them in the battlefield, but to know that his picture was held so tight to a man he felt he had known for a lifetime, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling breathless. In fact— he couldn’t breathe. Out of panic or because he was flustered, he wasn’t sure yet.
If Alejandro was a passionate man, then Rodolfo was a coward.
He was softer of the two in a way — quieter, less abrasive. They made a good pair because of it. But that meant Rodolfo never learned what to do at this stage — he had only ever given himself to Alejandro, and to have it reciprocated, he finally realized that he didn’t know what he truly wanted. So he froze like a deer in headlights, searching for words that he knew would never make it past his lips, and hoping that the lack of light would shield his blush and bewildered look.
He froze, and like most deer, he ran.
Maybe not a full blown sprint for his life, but Rodolfo undeniably felt that he needed to get out. His legs moved before his brain, pivoting to the direction of his barracks and certainly moving faster than a walking pace. He could stop, turn around, tell Alejandro it wasn’t rejection but rather embarrassment. But in the split second he turned he could see his hurt expression, defeat as he watched the other walk away, he knew he couldn’t face it. Not now, when he felt so drained he could’ve fallen asleep on the car ride home had it not been buzzing with excited soldiers.
Rodolfo could only make it out of Alejandro’s line of sight before he stopped again, his hands covering his face as the weight of his decision landed on him. He had rejected Alejandro, the only man he’d ever wanted for himself, because he panicked. He couldn’t even find himself to care about the people walking past him, not even the one who mentioned how red he had become, because all he could think was that he needed to fix this.
He sighed, finally willing himself to walk the rest of the way to his room so he could lay down. He’d go first thing in the morning — he knew he’d get nothing done when he was so dead tired, not even bothering to wipe the grime from his face.
He told himself he’d get nothing done on no sleep, but only when the sun began to rise and light crept past his curtains did he realize he wouldn’t get any sleep anyways. All he could picture was the way Alejandro had looked at him, and that he had left him like that, and wow, he had to fix it now.
He knew Alejandro wasn’t awake. Despite the military calling for early wake ups, he always had dodged it. Rodolfo knew he wouldn’t catch Alejandro awake for at least another two hours.
He told himself he could wait it out, but at 7:00 sharp he found himself outside his door, sucking in a breath. 8:00 was the earliest he could expect Alejandro awake, but he couldn’t find a way to care as he pounded the door. He hoped it was enough to wake him up, rocking back and forth slightly as he waited (or maybe he was swaying as he fought off a desperate call to sleep). He almost gave up after his second knock, as he’d been waiting for close to five minutes by then, but the door finally swung open and Alejandro looked at him in surprise.
Suddenly everything Rodolfo wanted to say had left him, and he stood there gaping for words. Alejandro was better at this, he knew how to give grand gestures of affection. Rodolfo struggled with basic apologies.
As he finally started to talk, he was stopped again by Alejandro dropping a hand on his shoulder. “Ay Rudy, you look like you haven’t slept.”
Which was— true. But no help.
He must’ve looked downright awful, though, because Alejandro was trying to usher him in to “get some sleep.” Tempting, but he needed to get through with it.
“I’m sorry I ran last night,” He finally forced himself to blurt out, a hand reaching up to squeeze the wrist on his shoulder, “I was tired, I didn’t know what to say.”
Alejandro watched him, and Rodolfo realized that he still didn’t know what to say.
“You should sleep, Rudy, you’re thinking too much about this—“ Alejandro started, but Rodolfo shook his head and pulled the hand off of him.
“No— No. Maybe I am— but I need to..” He furrowed his eyebrows, getting frustrated with the fact that he couldn’t keep a train of thought. He tried to rub under his eyes, like it’d wash away his exhaustion, fighting for some sort of words. “… apologize. I have to apologize.” He was mumbling, he knew it.
Alejandro sighed, watching Rodolfo struggle to keep himself going when his body was definitely ready to sleep. He finally reached up, holding his face in his hands. “Rodolfo. Whatever it is, you’re not going to handle it like this.”
And, really, he knew Alejandro was talking when he grabbed him, but between forcing himself awake and his eyes taking in every minute detail of his face now that he was so close, he couldn’t hear any of it. He just pretended to nod along, agreeing to whatever it was Alejandro wanted from him. Which seemed to satisfy him, and Rodolfo was happy with that, until he realized that he was being dragged into the other’s bed.
Perhaps it was the bewildered look on his face that hinted that he wasn’t fully caught on to what was happening, because Alejandro had to quickly butt in with “You’re going to sleep, Rudy. And I am too.”
He wouldn’t have said no regardless, even if it wasn’t necessarily advised in this state.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he finally laid down, face to face with Alejandro. It was warmer than his own bed, he noted distantly, likely from the pile of blankets that made his one thin sheet look sad.
He still needed to apologize, tell Alejandro what he wants. He opened his mouth to start talking again, but the other shook his head and pulled him closer. “You’re not listening to me right now, get some sleep.”
He couldn’t really argue with Alejandro on that, he decided, so he shut his eyes and pulled the blanket a bit tighter around himself.
And instead of sleep taking him, despite him feeling it ready to drag him down, he could only picture Alejandro watching him walking away, clutching the picture between his fingers.
So he opened his eyes again, surprised to meet Alejandro’s staring straight back at him. He was clearly about to say something, but Rodolfo cut him off.
“You’re staring,” He pointed out, shifting his position a bit to see more eye to eye.
“You’re not asleep,” Alejandro fought back, even if he definitely looked embarrassed at the comment.
“You’re not upset,” Rodolfo tried to ask, but he distantly recognized it sounded like a statement, “About me walking away.”
“Ay,” Alejandro scoffed, starting to turn away before Rodolfo grabbed his shoulder to hold him in place. He paused, eyeing the hand, before he finally concluded that Rodolfo wouldn’t sleep until he straightened this out, already proving himself by apparently not sleeping in the 5 hours he had the chance to. “No, Rudy, I’m not upset. You already said it— you were tired. You are tired. And I get if having a.. picture of you in my vest is a bit much.”
Rodolfo sighed, tugging Alejandro back to face him. “I have photos of you in my locker,” He admitted, with far less shame than he usually would have, “I just.. I’m not sure. Maybe I was just desperate to be in my room—“
“Cielo,” Alejandro cupped his face again, waiting until Rodolfo finally looked into his eyes, “I already told you I’m not upset. I think if you’re awake any longer, you’ll hurt yourself, my friend.”
Rodolfo scoffed, leaning into one of the hands. “My friend. We’re treading that line, no?” Alejandro rolled his eyes, pulling him in closer to his chest.
“Only if you want.”
Only if he wants.
Of course he wanted it. Maybe Alejandro was driving himself crazy with no sleep too.
“You’re kidding,” Rodolfo replied scornfully, watching Alejandro’s expression shift, “Of course I want it. I’ve wanted it for years.” The confession was far too casual for its weight.
“What are you talking about?” Alejandro asked, leaning back to be eye to eye again. Rodolfo froze again, the eye contact alone being enough to make him avert his eyes and fumble with the edge of the blanket.
“I’ve loved you since we enlisted, Alejandro,” He finally spat out, “You’re the only person I could ever give myself to. Without you, I- I wouldn’t be here. In the military. Maybe even Las Almas. Everything was for you.”
The words hung in the air so heavily that Rodolfo began to get worried. Alejandro always, always had something to say, especially when Rodolfo didn’t want him to. But now he sat in stunned silence, looking at him with an unreadable expression, he wanted to take it back, to reverse this morning, to never have to say that he was in love with his best friend as they held each other in his bed.
“Rudy. Amor,” Alejandro finally let out the breath he had been holding, a hand reaching behind Rodolfo’s head to pull him back in. “If I had known, we’d be married already,” He chuckled to himself, getting a short huff from the man beneath him.
“Who’s to say we can’t do it right now. My mom always wanted me to get married in that church we used to go to,” Rodolfo mumbled into Alejandro’s shoulder, snaking his arms around him, “Though, she expected a girl.”
That ultimately got a real laugh from Alejandro, a laugh so contagious Rodolfo couldn’t help but laugh at his own joke as well.
“Actually, I take that back. She’s known I was in love with you since I was in my 20s.”
“So you could tell her, and not me?” Alejandro was almost offended.
“It’s different. You know that,” Rodolfo rolled his eyes, finally finding it in him to slip them shut, “Doesn’t matter now. We’ll find time to go there after I sleep.”
“Finally,” Alejandro scoffed, earning a light whack to his back, “We’ve got all the time in the world, my love.”
Rodolfo knew it wasn’t true. He knew one of them was bound to meet the fate that they swore to accept in their line of work. He knew it would come early, that they likely wouldn’t make it to their 50s. And that if they did, the battlefield only followed soldiers into retirement, dragging them down to hell while everyone continued on.
But in this bed, entangled in one another — in the church, with only Rodolfo’s mother and grandmother there as their witnesses. Every time Rodolfo spun the ring on his finger. In those fleeting moments, did they feel like Alejandro’s words were true.