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The room felt too quiet. Even with the buzz of the radio and the hum of the monitors, it wasn’t enough to drown out the pounding in Bob’s ears.
They’d been flying a low-risk recon op. Nothing fancy. Nothing dangerous. But then the static hit, and a clipped voice cut through with five words that didn’t belong.
“Fanboy’s jet is going down.”
It had been ten minutes. Then twenty. Now almost thirty. Bob sat in the corner of the comms room, headset still on, still tuned to the channel he wasn’t supposed to be on anymore. They’d already told him to stand down, to go get some air, to let command handle it.
He didn’t move.
His hands were clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. His eyes burned, but he hadn’t blinked. He didn’t want to miss it—any crackle of sound, any shift in frequency, anything that could mean Fanboy was alive and trying to reach them.
Someone came up behind him. Touch on the shoulder. Bob jerked away before they could speak.
“He’s still out there,” Bob said, his voice hoarse.
“Recovery’s on it,” they replied gently. “They’ll bring him back.”
But what if they don’t? The thought pierced through his chest. What if I never hear him laugh again? What if I never get to tell him…
He hadn’t said it. Not really. There were jokes and lingering glances, nights when Fanboy leaned into him more than usual, mornings where they didn’t quite look away fast enough. But there was always the excuse of adrenaline, of closeness in the air. Of maybe next time.
The radio crackled. Bob sat up straight so fast his headset nearly slipped.
“…nyone there…”
His breath caught. “Fanboy?”
More static. Then–
“…Bob? Are you… are you there?”
His voice. Ragged. Weak.
“I’m here,” Bob said, standing now, walking toward the console like being closer to it would somehow help. “I’m right here.”
“You didn’t leave,” Fanboy said, barely audible. “Knew you wouldn’t.”
A tear slipped free before Bob could stop it.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I think my leg’s broken,” Fanboy whispered. “Everything’s kind of… tilted. But I can see sky.”
Relief hit so hard it made Bob dizzy. “Okay. Okay. Stay awake. They’re coming for you. Just hold on.”
There was a pause. Then Fanboy’s voice again, quieter this time.
“Thought I wasn’t gonna hear you again.”
Bob’s throat tightened. He wiped at his eyes and crouched near the console, forehead resting against the edge.
“I never stopped listening.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick, heavy with everything they hadn’t said before now.
“When they pull you out,” Bob said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m going to be right there. And when you’re cleared, you’re going to come back to my place. And you’re not leaving until I’m done yelling at you.”
A shaky laugh came through. “Promise?”
“Swear on my damn callsign.”
Another long moment. Then, quietly, “Bob… I’m scared.”
Bob pressed the heel of his hand against his eye. “I know. I know. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”
By the time recovery called in to say they had visual, Bob was already out of the room.
⸻⸻
Fanboy was pale and covered in dirt, his flight suit torn, his left leg splinted. But his eyes were open, searching.
Bob reached him just as the medics were loading him into the chopper. Fanboy grabbed his wrist and didn’t let go.
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” Bob whispered. “You’re coming with me.”
⸻⸻
That night, after the medics cleared him for observation and the base finally settled down, Bob sat at Fanboy’s bedside, fingers curled around his.
Fanboy shifted, eyes fluttering open. “Still here?”
Bob smiled faintly. “Told you I wasn’t leaving.”
Fanboy’s voice was quieter now, rough from smoke and fear. “Thought about you. When the jet was going down. Thought about how your hand felt on my back that night we sat on the roof. Wondered if I’d ever feel that again.”
“You will,” Bob whispered. “You are.”
Fanboy’s fingers twitched, trying to curl tighter around his. “Stay close?”
Bob slid onto the bed beside him without hesitation. Fanboy turned into his chest, his breaths shaking, finally letting the tears fall. Bob held him, one hand buried in his curls, the other wrapped tightly around his waist.
“I was so scared,” Fanboy said, voice breaking.
“I know. Me too.”
They stayed like that, tangled up in each other, until Fanboy’s breathing evened out again. Bob pressed a kiss to his temple.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “You’re home.”