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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 Our small group of rebels, armed with outdated weapons and fueled by the fire of revolution, marches on with a sense of purpose.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.

Chapter Text

(Che's POV)

I slump my shoulders as soon as I get back to my tent. I can feel the energy seeping through my body then to who knows where. Another day hard at work. To make matters worse I cannot seem to get any sleep whatsoever.

Preparing for another night of pointless yawns like little pleas for rest, I grab a book and sit at my makeshift desk. In one swift movement I turn on the flimsy lamp, almost knocking it over, and open up "Veinte Poemas de Amor" by one of my favorite authors, Pablo Neruda.

I mindlessly flip through all the pages filled with words I'd memorized, my brain pointlessly holding on to them. Perhaps they remind me of something or someone? No, of course not. There isn't much going on for me in my love life. This is nonsense. I shake away the idea of anyone meaning more than a friend to me as if it were a mosquito pestering me inside my mind. It's too unsettling to bare the thought.

Eventually, I reach my favorite poem within. "I like you calm, as if you were absent." I trace my fingers along the words, breathing them in then back out, the strong pull of love for no one identifiable spilling out with every exhale. The page is graffitied with hearts. This catches my attention.
"Hm?" I buzz quietly. " must of drew these when I was drunk." I muse. I wonder for who? No one. Not possible. I was just some lonely drunk man with a pen and a love poem. Nothing more.

I cannot pinpoint an exact moment at which my body went as still as the night, but leading up to it I could sense my eyes grow heavy and the words blend together. Sleep at last.

…

Fidel approaches me with that charismatic stride of his, and it's as if the very atmosphere around us thickens with anticipation. I offer a faint smile, attempting to maintain the facade of our friendship, but there's a newfound tension that lingers in the air, palpable and unshakable.

"Che," he begins, his voice steady yet bearing a trace of uncertainty. "I've been thinking, we've come a long way in this fight, haven't we?"

I nod, knowing that there's more to his words than just a reflection on our revolutionary journey. "Indeed, Fidel, we've made great strides in our mission, and the people are rallying behind our cause."

As Fidel and I continue our silent exchange, Raúl, a close friend and fellow rebel, stumbles into the conversation. He's never been one for brevity, and today is no exception.

"Hey, you two! Let me tell you about the trouble I got into last night," Raúl exclaims, his eyes wide with excitement.

Fidel and I exchange an amused glance, accustomed to Raúl's long-winded tales.

"Go on, Raúl," Fidel encourages, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

And so, Raúl launches into an elaborate narrative, recounting his misadventures from the previous evening, his words flowing freely as he regales us with the details.

Minutes turn into what feels like hours as Raúl's story unfolds. Though, I didn't pay attention to a single word. As Raúl rambles I've been paying keen attention to how Fidel's teeth were showing through the crack of his lips as he smiled. I snap out of it and look away, going over what excuses I could use if someone had seen me and confronts me about it.

After what feels like an eternity of Raúl's enthusiastic storytelling, he finally gets to the point. "Oh, Fidel, there's this urgent matter I need your input on regarding our next operation. I've been assigned a critical task, and your insight would be invaluable."

Fidel's attention is instantly refocused on the pressing matters of the revolution. I exchange one last, longing look with Fidel before he departs, leaving the lingering question of our feelings buried beneath the weight of our duties.

Chapter Text

(Fidel’s POV)

     “What’s this about?” I ask skeptically as I am faced by Raúl and a few other high ranking rebels. 

     “Brother, we need to get out of Mexico.” Raúl stated the obvious in his rather comical voice, at least that’s what his voice is to me.
“Yes, I know. And?” 
“Of course we will need to go over this before moving ahead with the plan.”

     I adjust my position to look at the map that was displayed, nodding along as Raúl explained the plan to take the 80-something rebels to Cuba. I wasn’t giving this my full attention, this is very important stuff and all, don’t get me wrong, but something has been bugging me. Goddammit Guevara, what is this? I can’t get him out of my mind. Is it some sort of brotherly love? Che is basically family I suppose. But I don’t think about Raúl like this.. just the stress of the revolution, I brush it off. 

     “Fidel are you even listening? This is no time to zone out!” I heard Raúl’s pestering voice snap. You’re one to talk, I want to retort but I hold my tongue.
”Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. Granma this Cuba that, I know. We’ll make it.” 

     After pointlessly going over the plan again, I finally get to leave that musty tent. As soon as I breathe in the fresh morning air, Raúl has to sour my mood again. “Two days, Fidel, two days!” He shouted as I trudge away. Supressing a groan, Too early for this, I think. That’s all I can do when it’s just me and my thoughts. Even if it’s only for a second, somehow Che ends up in that stream of ideas. I think I’m starting to resent myself, or everything, for that.