warnings: IF YOU KNOW ABOUT WASHI'S SPACE REBELLION AU, THEN U KNOW THIS WILL BE SAD. that is all.

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Fang is tired.

And it's not just the kind that comes with several missed nights of sleep. It's the kind that wears him down with every step he takes, that kind that seeps into his bones like water would to a drowning man's clothes and makes him want to sleep and never wake up again.

It shouldn't be normal.

But then normal is having mission after mission, ones he can't turn down no matter how injured he is because there are lives on the line, lives that weigh more than his. Normal is fighting for his life every single day, never knowing when he could die and constantly trying to swallow the fear it brings, because he knew what he was getting into, even back when he was eight.

(Normal, he thinks - bitterly, on occasion, because he may be twenty-five in appearance but a part of him will always be that same eleven-year-old stuck down on earth - is having a brother but not having him at all, because the past will always mean lesser than what the future has to hold, and that is something you will learn the hard way and still have to live with for the rest of your life.)

The moment he steps back to base and is handed another mission, Fang doesn't bother going back to his room.

He turns on his heel and heads for the West Wing.

The way to the labs is a familiar one. It isn't quiet, because few places in the base ever are, but not once is he interrupted. Scientists are just as busy as field agents are, a fact that he's thankful for in the moment because it allows him a bit more of the already meager time he has to relax.

When he reaches the one that's labeled fourteen, lets himself in and quickly takes note of any changes.

Laboratory Fourteen is one of the core contributors to the successes of the G.S. Research and Development Sector. It spearheads the innovation of the Resistance's resources, develops countermeasures for nuclear and chemical warfare, and engineers energy sources from any and every possible element imaginable.

It's a reputation Fang still shakes his head at; every time he goes here, all he can see is the mess of papers that surround the random knickknacks Boboiboy has taken to collecting, making the place entirely his. With it, the lab feels warm and lived in, feels so much like home, and that's something Fang can never find easy, whether he's halfway across the galaxy or at the base itself.

"Mm? Oh, welcome back, Fang!"

Nothing much has changed in the lab. A few more racks of fuel samples and a new terrarium of what looks like a mutant of the Abinac plant, but it's still the same cluttered space, with it's off-white walls and pale orange accents.

Boboiboy is in the middle of it all, holding a datapad and missing his usual lab coat. He's smiling but there's a slight furrow in his brow, and it's then that Fang realizes he hasn't said a word; he gives a slow blink, trying to keep his composure as he musters up a small smile for the other and tips his head.

"Hey."

"How was your mission?" Boboiboy asks, his approach a bit softer now - whether it's because of him or the topic, Fang can't tell. He shrugs and takes to leaning against the nearest table, arms crossed as he scans at the notes for a ship's new power core.

"The usual, I guess. Definitely a bit more relaxed." He tips his head, trying to sift through the boring details, and huffs fondly at a certain memory. "Gopal's doing pretty good, all things considered, and he promised an update on the latest version of Aegis once the shield's finished setting up. Did you know he's tweaking the framework himself?"

"Trying to upstage you again, huh," Boboiboy chuckles, idly flipping through a few medical charts. Fang recognizes some of the names and politely averts his eyes. "It's nice to hear he's doing well."

"He is, yeah."

For a moment, silence settles over them. Fang wishes he could stop the conversation here, but he knows that Boboiboy is expecting the next bit of information, so he steels himself with a slow, deep breath.

"Tok Aba says hi," he says quietly. "He still misses you a lot, along with you parents."

And it's like hitting a switch.

Boboiboy doesn't quite slump the way he would have when he was younger, but something about him dims, from the light in his eyes to the curve of his smile. He's gotten a lot better at controlling his reactions throughout the years, but something about it never sits well with Fang.

"I'll give them a call as soon as I can," Boboiboy promises, more to himself than to Fang as he keeps his eyes trained on the blue holograms. "...they're okay, then?"

"As much as we can tell," he nods, and this is one of the things Fang tries to make sure of, along with many other things that concern his friend.

He wants to say it as a promise; wants to say it's easy, but when you've been fighting a war since you were fifteen, things are rarely ever just that. All of them have sacrificed things important to them - their safety, their family, their lives.

Their futures.

Because no matter how much they want to believe that they'll make it out okay one day - and stars, but they truly do - there's just never a guarantee that they actually will.

(Most people are heroes because they help save lives.

They are heroes because they chose to die for a war that isn't even theirs, and one day when they eventually turn into stories, Fang will find it in himself to laugh and laugh and laugh, until he cries and falls apart because the thing about a hero's story is that it rarely ever ends a happy one.)

He snaps out of his thoughts when gentle fingers brush his hand. Fang looks up to find Boboiboy closer than before, eyes trained down on one of the injuries he'd gotten a few weeks ago - one from an enemy outpost, where he'd been tasked to sneak in and steal the information they'd needed for their next attack.

"You know, you shouldn't pick at your bandages."

Fang sighs, shoulders dropping a little.

"I know. It's just-"

He falters, words catching at his throat because he doesn't know what to say anymore. Boboiboy just stands there, grounding in his presence as he smiles softly, patient and unwavering in his support, and something in Fang just - caves.

He leans forward to press their foreheads together, eyes clenched shut against a familiar burn and simply lets himself breathe.

(He is not going to cry. Not this time.)

"I'm tired," Fang whispers. Here, in the solitude of their space, it seems to echo and resonate between them, pulling at strings that's kept them together for years.

"I know," Boboiboy murmurs back, palm slipping into his in warm, gentle comfort, and Fang clutches at it like a lifeline.

(Once, when he was nineteen and newly promoted, he'd asked.

"Do you regret it?"

Boboiboy looks at him from his perch on the floor and blinks.

"Regret what?"

Coming with me, he wants to say, but manages to twist it at the last second into, "Going to space."

There's a hum as Boboiboy considers the question and for a heartbeat, Fang regrets ever asking, fear clawing at his heart because what if-

"No."

He stares at Boboiboy, frozen in the face of this confession because that's - it can't be right.

...right?

"I have a few of regrets," Boboiboy continues, like he can hear Fang's doubts and wants to soothe them. "Like not spending more time with Tok Aba, or not explaining things well enough to my parents. But being here with you guys - fighting to protect one another and everyone that's important to us - that's something I'll never regret."

"But you-"

"I chose to be here, Fang," Boboiboy cuts in, soft but firm as he stares Fang down with a ferocity he usually saves for the field. "No one made me go; not you or any of the higher-ups. I made myself stay because that's what I wanted to do, and no one is going to stop me."

I'm going to protect you guys, his very being seems to say, and it's all Fang can do to nod in the face of it.)

(Boboiboy has always been a protector, and so is Fang, but this is the first time in a long while that he's ever really felt what it means to be protected back.)

"I can make you cocoa," Boboiboy offers, and Fang can't help the instinctive smile that pulls from him. "You need the rest, anyway. I'll say something about asking help for a project - that should ward off the officials for as long as you need."

"That's unusually manipulative of you," he chuckles, slowly pulling away to give the other an amused look.

"Oh no, you're paying for it," Boboiboy beams at him. "I'm expecting a refill of Tok Aba's special mix."

"Of course," Fang shakes his head, and even if he's still so, so tired, his smile is genuine when he looks back at his friend.

"Thanks, Boboiboy."

Boboiboy smiles back, small yet bright as he gives their hands a single squeeze.

"Anytime."

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a/n: this is actually an old piece i wrote about... a year ago, i think. found it while i was sorting my files and thought id post it :D

again, this is inspired by washichan's lovely space rebellion au, its honestly still one of my favorite aus out there and i adore every chance i get to tinker with it aaaaaaa. also wrote this as platonic bcs its high time we let characters be affectionate without the threat of romantic plotlines but hey, take it as you want it. *shrugs in gen author*