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Life in the Commonwealth is hard. Life in general is hard, but the Commonwealth makes it that much harder. With massive radroaches the size of a person's forearm and fist, raiders around every corner and super mutants just waiting to feast on human flesh, it’s no wonder why so many people have sought out refuge in The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth; Diamond City. There people can have a home, a job, a life worth living, and a place to make a family. In the post apocalyptic world, one grows tired of sleeping in abandoned buildings, using a radiation filled carpet as a blanket and begging for caps just so they can have one meal this week. That’s one of many reasons that people love Diamond City.
Travis didn’t particularly love Diamond City, but like hell if he was going to leave. He knew what the dangers were outside the walls, and he wasn’t the type to take a chance. The odds have never been in his favor. While others have strength, charisma, or just plain luck, Travis felt cheated out of any survival instincts. He wasn’t strong or brave like the Diamond City guards. He wasn’t perceptive and charismatic like Piper Wright. That girl was amazing. He never skipped her papers. He couldn’t even be mentioned in the same sentence as Nick Valentine, one of the smartest people Travis has ever heard of. The man was brilliant. Although, that could be because he’s a Synth. Travis, like many in Diamond City, fears Synths, but Nick was different. He’s worked so hard to be appreciated, and in Travis’ eyes, he’s earned all the admiration he’s received and more. All in all, Travis didn’t weigh up to everyone else in Diamond City, and sometimes he felt like he didn’t even matter to a single soul, and he wouldn’t be shocked if that was the truth.
Travis knew he was unlovable, life had proven that to him time and time again. He just hoped that one day, at least just for a few hours, someone could at least pretend to love him, pretend to care. Just for someone to give him the time of day, and not when he paid them to sit with him at the bar or when he had to speak to someone about the radio. He wished that someone would care. He was so tired of being alone, that he was so desperate for love that it didn’t matter if someone faked it. Just a little kindness was all he wanted and eventually he got it.
And boy did he regret it.
It all started when someone anonymously reported a man leaving Vault 111, the blue suit and all. Travis thought it would be neat to mention on the radio, where he worked. After he stuttered out the rumor and played some songs, he kicked back and on his desk and brought out a pen. He scribbled on his wrist, watching the ink make marks. Between songs he liked to draw on himself. In a weird way, it made him feel less alone. Sometimes he’d zone out and let the ink follow the melodies of the songs he played. It was a fun hobby in his quiet, lonely little world. Once a few songs would end, he’d turn on the mic and begin to babble about random news things, although he had the feeling most people turned the radio off once his voice filled the silence, so he tried to keep things short. His stutter however, made it feel like he talked forever, so it wasn’t unusual for him to just stop talking altogether and flip on a song.
On the day that he met him, he was laying in his bed, listening to one of his favorite songs, quietly humming along with it. His feet were kicked up on the bed frame, ankles resting on top each other. His arms were crossed behind his head and in one of the rare and unusual moments, he felt calm and content. That is, until his radio shack door swung open. He flung up from the mattress and darted his eyes over to the man who just barged in. Between chunks of handmade armor covering his body, Travis could recognize that all too familiar shade of blue peeking out from the armor. His stomach twisted, and despite not seeing the yellow numbers on the suit's back, his gut knew that this man was the vault dweller he mentioned a few weeks back. The man who was spotted walking out from Vault 111.
Travis swallowed hard, his eyes wide open like a bugs. He wanted to shout in a booming voice, ‘what are you doing in here’, but all he could muster was a quiet and timid, “hi?”
The vault dweller cocked an eyebrow up, a half smirk almost present on his lips. He shifted his head as he stared at Travis, almost as if he was checking if there was more to him, or if he was really that small and meek. Travis tried not to glue his eyes to the numerous guns on the man, but the longer he looked at them, the more weapons he noticed. ‘This guy must be a killing machine’, he thought. Been out of the vault for what, a month or two, maybe? Two months and he’s already carrying this many guns. As Travis noticed more details on the man, the vault dweller leaned up on the now shut door, and crossed his arms.
“So you’re the radio boy?”
“Uh… y-yeah. Th-that's me,” he muttered in a soft voice, scared of what the man would do if he spoke a single decibel louder.
“Been workin’ here long?”
The first conversation was casual, but so awkward. Turns out the vault dweller didn’t come in with the urge to bust Travis’ kneecaps, break his belongings or steal the few caps he has. He turned out to be a relatively nice guy, in some aspects. Charging into someone's work/bedroom wasn’t exactly the peak of politeness and respect, but who was Travis to pipe up about that. It felt like the vault dweller carried a thousand guns on him, so he was just thankful a stray bullet didn’t find it’s way between his eyes. Travis had spoken on the radio while the dweller stood and watched. Once Travis was done stuttering more than usual, he switched the mic off again and flicked on some music.
They talked for a while. The vault dweller, while intimidating, was quite curious. He barged in not out of anger, but out of curiosity. He told Travis he was new to Diamond City, and quickly learned about all the major shops and sights to see. He had already visited each shop, currently sporting a new haircut, heard about missing Nick, checked out the upper stands and the last stop on his agenda was the radio station. Hearing that calmed Travis’ nerves, and although he was still extremely jumpy and timid, he felt slightly more at ease with the vault dwellers presence. Just when Travis began to get used to him, the man said his goodbyes and left. Travis couldn’t even muster a farewell before the door was shut. He leaned back and let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in his chest. It felt nice to be alone again. His heart didn’t pound like he was fearing for his life when he was alone.
As the days went on, he nearly forgot about that little encounter with the vault dweller. His life went on as normal. While gathering some food at Diamond City market, Travis heard some surprised gasps, so, following the gazes of everyone else, he saw the vault dweller and Nick Valentine walking down the city entrance. Nick had been missing for quite a while, and this vault dweller shows up out of nowhere, tracks him down and saves him from god knows where in less than a couple of days? Only Nick would be able to do something like that, and yet, there they are. It was then that Travis really wondered what kind of man the Vault 111 guy is. He surely put those guns to use, but what else can he do, and more importantly, what is he willing to do?
Just two days after that, the dweller came barging back into Travis' shack. It nearly made him jump three feet in the air. The man let out a deep chuckle and made himself at home, practically tossing himself on Travis’ mattress to sit. Travis shifted awkwardly before seating himself at his desk. The two talked, well, more the vault dweller talked and Travis listened. He told him countless stories and experiences he’s had in the Commonwealth. He told him how he took down three yao guai all at the same time, how he’s slaughtered countless raiders and mirelurks, even taking down a couple of mirelurk queens. Travis was in awe from his tales. Skeptical? Sure. Why wouldn’t he be? The man is telling him all sorts of nonsensical stories. It’s downright absurd, the kinds of things the man told him, and yet, Travis believed him despite being unsure of how much of it was true. Something inside made him feel like the man was being honest, and truth be told, Travis probably wanted to believe it all even if it was lies. The company of a strong, unstoppable man who’s purposely visiting him? That didn’t sound half bad to Travis. A small hope inside him prayed that maybe the vault dweller was just as lonely as he was. Maybe that's why he’s talking to Travis, and maybe, just maybe, they could grow close. With that hope in mind, once the vault dweller was finished sharing his wild and crazy stories, Travis, albeit awkwardly, invited him to come back sometime.
That sparked the chain of events that followed.
The vault dweller would come by more often, brag about the crazy ways he nearly got himself killed in the Commonwealth. Down a bottle of vodka as he spoke, hardly even slurring his lines. Travis would sit and smile, and listen with an open heart. The dweller talked a lot about his life, didn’t particularly ask much about Travis’, and he was so thankful for that. Travis didn’t have much of a story. Born and raised in Diamond City, parents didn’t care much about him, but he still cried when they died. Nobody really liked him and it was hard to find a job, but found a calling at the radio station due to his love of music. Travis has stepped out of the city walls a few times, but it’s too much on his anxiety. Raiders were scary, but super mutants were terrifying to him. The idea of a massive, green giant charging at him with the intent to kill and eat, no thanks. He was always the most fascinated by the vault dwellers stories where he slaughtered ten mutants all on his own. Those stories in particular were the ones that amazed him the most.
Eventually the vault dweller became more comfortable sharing deeper stories, ones from his past. Travis’ jaw nearly hit the floor when he learned the dweller was over two hundred years old, served in a war just to encounter another. Then was frozen in time just to have his wife killed in front of his eyes and his baby son taken from him. Travis couldn’t imagine the pain he felt inside. He remembered the way the man's eyes glazed over with unfallen tears, and how he took a swig of his drink before wiping them away. He had muttered something about being a ‘sole survivor’, whatever that means. Travis wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t know how. So, he announced a song on the radio, and let the music speak the words he couldn’t. He turned and gave a timid smile at the man, before handing him a cigarette to ease his pain.
After that, everything just fell into place, and Travis tried to pretend his heart didn’t flutter when he heard the man's voice in his little radio shack. How he didn’t melt inside when he’d lean forward with a smirk and a dark look in the eyes and share how he took down a hoard of feral ghouls all on his own. Before Travis could stop himself, he was in love. Nobody has ever given him the time of day, and there this guy was, once a terrifying stranger, now someone who helps him wake up in the mornings. Travis never knew when the sole survivor would come and visit him, so it motivated him to keep his shack cleaner, a little flashier. Throw some colorful posters up on the walls, maybe toss in a small carpet or two. Anything he could think of that would impress the man when he came over, and Travis would swoon when the vault dweller would comment on his efforts and smile in appreciation.
Travis was getting in too deep, but man was he falling for that son of a bitch.
When the sole survivor kissed him for the first time however, he could help but flinch and lock up tight. His whole body felt paralyzed and his breath was stuck in his throat. The sole survivor cocked his head to the side and asked if the kiss was too much. Travis normally speaks with a stutter, but as his face flushed in embarrassment, he could hardly choke the words out. It’s not that he disliked the kiss, in fact, he had dreamt about kissing him many times, but it was the fact that the vault dweller actually did it. He actually kissed him and Travis wasn’t dreaming, he was awake. He really felt those hard lips against his own, and it made his head spin. His heart thundered in his chest, but before he could figure out what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed the man back.
After that day, their relationship went from a guy sharing stories to a buddy, to a couple of love birds eager to get to know each other more in every possible way. They would talk for long hours, then they would sit on Travis’ bed and lock their lips together, tongues finding their way into each other's mouths, heavy hands slithering up shirts. Travis was helpless when it came to the sole survivor. He was puddy in his calloused, strong hands. If the man wanted to, he could snap Travis’ neck in half like a toothpick, but instead he gently brushes the pads of his thumbs across his nipples, gives him feathery kisses on his jaw and neck, and in the most devilish tone, will whisper his name, “Travis.”
Travis laid his head back on his pillow, reaching up and grabbing the bed frame. The sole survivor had long since discarded all of their clothing, and Travis, though embarrassed, was ready for anything the man could give him. Every kiss, every touch and swipe of his tongue left him feeling light, as if he was floating. When his lips would press into his thigh or finger tips squeezing his sides, he was in every shape and form, the sole survivors. When the sole survivor prepped and fingered him, he kissed Travis like he meant the world to him, and Travis had never felt so cherished. When the man pushed inside, it didn’t hurt or make him wince. It made his heart flutter and yank him down for another heavy kiss. As the thrusts went from soft to hard, and the sounds of the bed creaking grew louder, Travis hoped to God that this feeling in his heart would never end.
But then it did.
Not at first, but over the course of time. The survivor would come by less often, and when he would he’d only share a story or two before kissing Travis back until his knees hit the end of the bed. He’d spend the night, so to speak, then leave the next morning, sometimes not even saying goodbye. Travis would feel his heart thump painfully in his chest each morning he awoke to find himself alone in his bed. As the weeks went on, the vault dweller came by scarcely, not even sharing a story anymore, just some quick small talk before Travis was on his hands and knees taking what the survivor had to offer. Despite knowing what was happening, Travis couldn’t say no to him. In those small moments of pleasure, he felt like he mattered, and despite how painful it was when the sole survivor left, Travis couldn’t help but invite him in every time he came by.
And then he didn’t come back.
Travis would hope that he’d see the man barge in, if even for just a quick fuck, but he never did. Occasionally he’d see the vault dweller in the marketplace, and they’d have a brief second of eye contact before the man would turn and walk away. Travis felt sick. He felt hurt, used, cheated and abused. He second guessed everything he was ever told by the man. All those stories, were they really lies? Those kisses, were they fake too? Those nights where he held him in his chest and played with his hair, was it just a game? The sobs would wreck Travis as he cried in his bed. Fuck, why was life so hard? Why would he do this to Travis? Did he even care? Did Travis even matter to him? To anyone? These questions would keep him up at night, and the tears would leave tracks on his cheeks for hours. His heart felt like someone had shoved a pike in it and hammered nails inside. It was like his whole heart was split open and put on display, and although the vault dweller never made fun of Travis in an uncaring way, he felt like every second that passed the sole survivor laughed at him.
‘This is why it’s better to be alone’, Travis figured. He should’ve kept his nose down and stopped talking to the vault dweller after day one, or anyone for that matter. He doesn’t matter, not to the sole survivor, not to his parents, not to anyone in Diamond City. If he died nobody would care, hell, he’d be shocked if anyone came looking for him after his absence on the radio. He felt more alone than ever before. The sole survivor had given him a taste of his dreams, love, affection, admiration, and when he left, he took all of it with him. If Travis never met him, he wouldn’t have realized how starved he is, and he wouldn’t feel so broken now. He felt destroyed and yet, he should've expected this to happen. He debated on ending it all, but he’s too cowardly to talk to Myrna at her shop, let alone kill himself. He knew suicide wasn’t the answer, but boy did it feel like it.
Instead, he listened to every word and melody in the songs he played, sometimes forgetting to speak at all on the station. Not like anyone cared that he wasn’t speaking as much. They probably liked it more. He’d get lost in the songs, crying especially hard at the sad ones like The End of the World. Although, despite him still loving the sole survivor, he doubted the man ever liked him at all. What broke Travis’ heart the most however, was that if the vault dweller came back, looking for a piece off ass, Travis wouldn’t hesitate to give it to him. He knows it's wrong, he knows he should cuss him out and tell him to never come back, but nobody would ever understand how miserable it felt to be Travis Miles. All he ever wanted was for someone to care, but it seemed like he was asking for a price too high for his budget. If all the sole survivor wants from him is sex, then he can have as much as he wants, just so long as it takes his pain away, if even for just one lonely hour out of a month or two. So, as he sits at his desk, waiting for the song to end, he secretly prays the sole survivor would come back, at least one more time.