Chapter Text
A cyborg stumbled out of a bar with a bottle of alcohol, and frustration was visible on his face; the few people hanging around instinctively looked away, not intending to provoke him even the slightest. The Ranger ignored them either way, grumbling and walking away from the illuminated street to the dim alleyway.
As expected, just a few steps in, and he could already smell the foul stench. Every now and then, he would step on trash, he was in the city outskirts after all, one that was more neglected than others at that.
Everyone minded their own business here, which was exactly what he wanted since after his latest mission–blasting some IPC members’ heads as per usual but without being able to collect substantial information regarding Oswaldo, yet again–he really needed to cool down, and preferably numb his mind.
Boothill, however, was a cyborg, and so he could never truly get drunk; like how coffee barely affected him, alcohol only made him slower and less focused–after a huge intake.
That’s why he was angry, he knew alcohol wouldn’t help, yet he regularly visited bars after missions; maybe it was out of habit from his past, where he and other cowboys would celebrate their victory over bandits with a couple of beers or maybe it was just an addiction.
Maybe he was just desperate to silence his mind and feel light for once.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, staggering aimlessly. The bottle in his hand had been opened.
He took another swig, and another, and another, even though he was aware nothing would change.
He didn’t know how long he had walked, though he could still hear cars racing in the trafficked streets nearby. In front of him was a dead end, and a big trash bin. Smaller trash bins were on the side, all full. One of them couldn't even be closed.
He felt a drop on his hat.
Just as he looked up, rain started to pour down, not hard, but still intense enough to turn the place muddy.
“Ah, the smell got stronger,” he thought while his nose scrunched up.
He didn’t walk away.
No, he laid down in that narrow, smelly, dirty alleyway, the bottle that he’d been drinking from rolled away from his hand as his hat fell off, letting the rain hit his face and hair relentlessly.
His hair… The only thing remaining from his past, aside from his brain; he insisted on keeping it, never trimming it because he could no longer grow hair, and because it held memories.
So many memories.
His older sister once teased him for claiming that he wasn’t emotional, and yet, he had the longest hair in the family; he always kept it clean and tidy.
That time, his dads chimed in, reminding him that he was the only one that chose to stay, while his other siblings decided that, when old enough, they would have gone and explored the world with their own eyes.
Everyone giggled fondly as he covered his face in defeat.
He chose to stay with his family, yet, he was the only one alive and traveling the cosmos right now.
He vowed to dedicate his life for revenge, and yet here he was, laying in some dim and muddy alley, surrounded by trash.
“I’m just a pile of metal anyway,” he thought.
The alcohol did a poor job on his mind, making him contemplate if shutting down was a good idea, or at least going into sleep mode.
He reasoned that it would be way too risky. Sure, the access for his credits was secure, however, it was more concerning that someone was going to alert the IPC while he was knocked out cold for easy money.
In the end, he decided to simply close his eyes, and listen to the rain; it helped distract his mind a little bit, pulling him away from the flames that engulfed his home in his taunting memories.
Even the smell of trash didn’t seem to bother him anymore.
But then, he smelled it–a very faint scent of something nice, familiar even, and suddenly a wave of comfort washed over him.
At first, he thought the alcohol was finally kicking in, but the smell grew stronger, accompanied by a sound that he could quite recognise.
Soon, he realised that it was the clang of heavy metal footsteps approaching him in a hurry.
The cyborg opened his flashing red eyes on the lookout, his left hand quickly turning into a gun and pointing towards the voice as he sat up.
The noise stopped, and the Ranger froze, much like the Knight before him.
Even when the person hadn’t stepped into the dim light, his vaguely visible red hair & armor were still unmistakable. His arms were raised to not provoke the alert Ranger.
Slowly, he stepped forward, and his figure was finally clear under the glow of the streetlight. The cyborg already knew who he was even without activating his night vision.
Still, he questioned if the alcohol was affecting his mind that much.
“Boothill…,” the Knight gently spoke.
The Ranger’s arm trembled as the barrel of the gun turned back into a hand and was lowered to the ground. Despite the rain, Boothill’s eyes were wide as he stared at the figure before him.
“Argenti….”
The Knight walked closer to the Ranger and knelt in front of him slowly, as if he was trying to not scare a feral cat. Carefully, he summoned his shield unit above Boothill to protect the cyborg from rain, even though it’s was unnecessary.
He then quickly observed the cyborg’s condition.
“Are you injured anywhere? What happened?” he asked with genuine concern in his eyes,. “I thought you were unconscious, so I ran to help you.”
It took everything in Boothill to focus and respond. “No…no I’m not- I’m okay, yeah, don’t worry, ‘Genti.”
But the Knight’s gaze only showed more worry as he carefully reached for the Ranger’s long hair from the back of his head, and then brought it in between them.
Just then, Boothill noticed how muddy it had become.
Argenti stared at the hair with hurt visible in his gentle gaze, as if he was the one that owned the hair. “You must be going through something terrible if your hair is this unkempt…”
At that, Boothill’s jaw dropped.
Argenti remembered.
Of course the rose-head Knight remembered.
The Ranger only ever told him about how he treasured his hair once, when Argenti praised it in their last meeting a few months ago.
Argenti looked around and noticed the bottle beside Boothill. His expression saddened, and then he reached for the cowboy’s abandoned hat.
He stared at it for a while with pity, then his gaze moved to the cyborg in front of him.
“Let’s go to my hotel room, my dear. I cannot let you stay here.”
Boothill flinched at the word ‘dear’. He tried to shrug it off, because that’s just how Argenti referred to others–‘dear friend’–but lately, Argenti didn’t include the word ‘friend’ in the term of endearment anymore.
He tried not to think too much about it.
Argenti was a Knight, he was just following his duty by helping people. That was all there was to it, nothing more.
Boothill shook his head and did his best to flash his usual smile, but it turned out pathetic. “No need to, ‘Genti, I got my own room.”
A hand reached out to him, to his face, and gently moved his bang away. Now, Boothill had no choice but to look at the crimson Knight.
“You’re lying again,” Argenti softly spoke. “Come on, it’s not far from here.”
The Ranger stared at the hand that was patiently waiting for his own; all this kindness, this gentle treatment, and for what? For a dead man walking who hadn’t even reached his only goal?
The cyborg gritted his teeth. “I told you, I don’t need it. I don’t need your help,” he almost growled, his voice box vibrating at the low tone that he used to say the phrase.
“Even so, I would like to help you, Boothill,” Argenti replied firmly.
Boothill clicked his tongue and swatted the hand away. “What part of ‘I don’t need your help’ that you don’t understand? Look I get it, yer a Knight, ya wanna help me, but I refuse.”
He shouldn’t have done that, but he wanted the ever so caring Knight to leave him alone.
“Is it wrong of me to want to help you?”
It was a genuine question, and Argenti had moved away a little from the Ranger to let him have a bit of space. Boothill regretted it almost immediately, but maybe it was for the best.
“It’s not, but-” Boothill silently cursed and looked away. “Listen, Knight, just leave me alone this time, aight? I’ll be fine.”
The Knight contemplated the request for a moment, looking intently at the Ranger. Boothill made only one mistake, which was daring to stare back at those eyes.
For a moment, he thought he was back at the grassy field of his home.
The cyborg took a shaky breath despite not needing air, then lowered his gaze.
“Tell me, my dear, what is your plan? I will not leave you unless I know you have things under control.”
Boothill was known as a sharp and quick thinking Ranger, he could make back up plans on top of back up plans, or make one on the spot. But faced with the determined and caring gaze of the Knight, it was hard to even come up with a single lie.
“I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
“May I help you, then?” Argenti carefully placed a hand on Boothill’s shoulder. “I know that you’re a very capable man, but that doesn’t mean you should deny help when you need it.”
Still gazing down, Boothill tried to find an excuse again.
Clearly lacking a good plan to care for himself, the Knight called him again. The Ranger looked at Argenti a second time out of reflex, and he regretted it again.
Boothill knew that once gazed into those emerald eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist, whether it was resisting Argenti’s help or his own yearning for him, both were no longer an option.
Noticing how Boothill’s anger and frustration were melting away, Argenti removed his hand from the cyborg’s shoulder and offered his palm.
“Would you let me help you, my dear silver cowboy? At least until you’re cleaned up and recharged. My hotel room has a charging cable for cyborgs and the like.”
Boothill looked at the palm extended to him and eventually sighed in defeat. His right hand hesitantly reached for Argenti’s, making the Knight smile.
Boothill almost mistook the rain droplet around his eyes as a tear, though, knowing Argenti, it might as well be.
The Knight whispered a ‘thank you’ then rose and pulled the Ranger up with him.
Argenti led the way and started telling Boothill stories about his latest travel. Though proud as ever, the cyborg noticed that the man in front of him was being quieter than usual, speaking in a softer way. He also noticed that they were still holding hands, and a shield was still dutifully hovering above him.
Once again, he felt his heart, or rather, his core, skipping a beat.
It had been happening for months now. At first he only felt it once or twice when Argenti was around, and then he started to feel it more frequently until he found himself thinking and longing for the Knight even when they were apart.
Was this really just Argenti doing his duty as a Knight?
Shaking his head, Boothill finally spoke, “You can stop using the shield, ‘Genti. I’ll be fine.”
Argenti turned his face to look at Boothill; for a moment, the cyborg felt like his heart was still biological due to how hard it was beating. The expression that the Knight directed at him was so impossibly tender.
“I’m not going to let you soak in the rain.”
“Well, it’s gonna wash off the mud at least. Don’t wanna dirty your room too much.”
“Please, you don’t need to worry about that,” Argenti tried to reassure the Ranger with a hand on his chest.
Boothill scoffed. “Then at least shield yourself too.” The man in front of him froze for a moment. “...Did you seriously not think of that?”
Argenti cleared his throat and summoned a shield above himself. “Admittedly, I didn’t…”
The alley was quiet for a few seconds until Boothill let out a booming laugh. “How are ya s-so…so charming and stupid, Rosey?” he managed to ask in between the laughter and occasional gasps.
The Knight showed embarrassment–a rare feat to find pictured on the redhead’s features–and covered his face with his free hand. This only led the Ranger to laugh louder.
Despite the shame he was feeling, Argenti couldn’t help but take a peek at Boothill.
He looked so happy.
At the sight, the embarrassment quickly faded away, replaced with happiness in seeing his silver cowboy free of worries, at least at that moment.
Argenti shook his head slightly and tugged Boothill’s hand.
“I hope you won’t remind me of this in the future,” he lightly giggled as they continued walking.
“Hah, no.”
Argenti sighed in defeat, though he did so with a smile. As embarrassing as it was, it was not a bad thing. After all, Boothill now looked more relaxed and the lingering smile was enough to make his beauty shine despite the mud.