Butch and I ran down the corridor, hand in hand. Behind us, yet another one of the Vault 101 security guards was taken down by a radroach. Vile creatures. We stopped at a fork, panting before looking into each others' eyes, knowing it would be the last time -- for at least awhlie -- that we would see each other.

I put my hand on his cheek, he put his on mine. We touched foreheads, closing our eyes to keep the tears back. A moment passed, and another, until it felt a pregnant eternity kept us from our inevitable goodbye. Finally, we straightened up, and faced each other, stone-faced and brave.

"Tunnel snakes rule," he whispered.
"Tunnel snakes rule," I whispered back, my voice breaking.

As we walked our separate ways, tears flooding in my eyes, I could only hope Butch wouldn't find his mom, dead in their room. That would be awkward.