Chapter Text
(Fidel’s POV)
As I stand here, the coast’s oppressive humidity seeping into my skin, I can't help but steal a glance at Guevara who’s hard at work. He's engrossed in the maps spread out before us, his brow furrowed in concentration, and I wonder if he notices the beads of sweat that cling to his tanned skin. We've been comrades, brothers even, in this relentless struggle for too long, but there's a tension in the air that even the dense foliage can't obscure. It's not just the revolution we're fighting for; it's something deeper, something unspoken that neither of us wants to admit.
I can't help but feel a strange warmth when his gaze brushes mine, but I quickly look away, pretending to study the same maps.
In this revolution of a lifetime, where we've come to fight for our beliefs, we may be on the verge of discovering a truth we never dared to confront--a truth about love and longing, which threatens to disrupt our unwavering dedication to the cause.
A familiar voice spoke up, one that I had memorized every perfection of. "You ready? I think we've got this, we just need to play it out right." This broke me from my deep concentration.
"Hm? Oh, yes. Let's get this over with.”
With a single nod of my head, Che and lead the men deep into the bush. My stomach is telling me I'm nervous, but it's not about the mission. Every interaction with him.. it's like.. focus Fidel!
The mission weighs heavily on our shoulders, the guerrilla warfare, the revolutionary fervor, but there's something even more profound gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.
Che and I share secrets under the veil of our shared struggle, secrets that stir my soul in ways I can't fathom. I steal glances at him when he's not looking, trying to decipher the enigmatic emotions etched on his face. Perhaps it's the way his eyes light up when we discuss tactics or the way our hands brush briefly as we pore over plans.
Yet, I can't be certain, for there's a fear that acknowledging these feelings would be a betrayal of the ideals we've sworn to uphold. In the heart of the Mexican coast, amidst the chaos of our endeavor, our hearts are poised on the precipice of a revelation that could alter the course of our destinies.
We press forward with our mission, one rooted in our unwavering commitment to overthrowing the oppressive regime. Our small group of rebels, armed with outdated weapons and fueled by the fire of revolution, marches on with a sense of purpose.
Che and I, side by side, lead the charge, forging through the muggy terrain, navigating treacherous paths, and setting up clandestine rendezvous points. The urgency of our objective propels us forward.
We communicate in hushed tones, sharing information and coordinating our movements. Our makeshift campsite, concealed deep in the heart of the jungle, serves as the epicenter of our operations. It's here that we strategize and plan, occasionally stealing glances at one another amidst the discussions. Every decision we make, every maneuver we execute, is a step towards our ultimate goal of liberation, however something feels missing no matter how close we get.
As we progress, it becomes increasingly clear to me that our feelings for the people isn't the only passion present. The revolution binds us, just as the unspoken longing in our hearts ties us to a destiny that is yet to be unraveled. Our love for our homeland and the people we aim to free mirrors the complexity of our emotions - a web of passion, dedication, and a love that we won't dare to—no, can’t, confront.
…
With the mission finally coming to an end, the air feels thick with anticipation and the weight of our actions.
We've succeeded in striking a significant blow against the regime, and as we retreat from the battleground, Che and I share a glance of silent acknowledgment. It's moments like these that make our bond even more complex.
Back at our campsite, bathed in the dim glow of a campfire, the exhaustion from the day's efforts washes over us. Our fellow rebels are busy tending to their wounds and preparing meager rations, but Che and I find a quiet spot around a fire, away from prying eyes.
The flames dance, casting fleeting shadows on our faces, and for a moment, it's just the two of us in our own world.
As we sit there, the unspoken words hang heavy in the humid night air. Our hearts yearn for something more profound than revolution, and yet, we dare not voice our desires.