He wasn't entirely sure when it had become a thing. He supposed that was largely because it had happened very organically, as if it was the natural progression of things, as if it was what they were always meant to be doing. really, it had been so long since they started that, every time he reflected on their life choices it got harder to pinpoint the exact moment when they'd started this…hobby. At this point, he supposed it didn't even really matter anymore. The point was, it was a thing and he wasn't about to stop and, well, if the fact that Havoc still came home every week without fail with a new packet of seeds in hand was any indication, Havoc wasn't going to either.
As much as the taller man would grumble about it, he spent just as many hours up there as Breda did, if not more. Breda didn't blame him in the least. After all, it was damn hard work, not too complicated, but not so simple it allowed the mind to wander. In other words, it was exactly the kind of thing that both of them needed.
Havoc refused to call it a garden, because men didn't garden, they farmed, but that was just a prideful man fooling himself. Breda was fine with that though. Havoc had always been that way and even Breda could admit the idea of someone discovering their little secret didn't sit well with him. In his case, the desire for secrecy wasn't exactly related to the fact they were cheating on their manhood.
It was just, letting anyone else on this felt a bit like a betrayal. This place was theirs. It was their safe haven. Up on that roof, surrounded by soft green tones and the smells of dirt and cigarette smoke, it felt safe. It was a different world that was all their own and letting anyone else in felt like a violation of something pure.
The rooftop gave them a place where they could forget how wrong the world was. Up near the skyline, they didn't have to worry about the Lieutenant breathing down their necks or keeping an eye on the Colonel or the fact that their country was run by something inhuman. Really, when they gardened, their biggest concern was whether or not they'd remembered to water the blueberries.
Although that's not to say that they immersed themselves to the point where they weren't ready to grab their guns and go when they were called upon. What they did was important and they both knew that. It would always come first, in the end.
Of course, at the moment work was the last thing he wanted to think about. He'd spent the last week working himself to the bone. What little free time he'd been allotted went, by necessity, to sleeping, eating, and general personal hygiene. The garden had been neglected that whole time and Breda highly suspected that it wouldn't exactly be in the greatest shape.
Still that did nothing to dampen his spirits. He would relish the challenge. After all, all that having loses meant was that they'd get to start over again.
The plump man made his way toward the door, pausing to grab his tool box and his gardening gloves on the way out. His legs lead him up the stairs without any conscious effort on his part. It wasn't necessary anymore, not when this was such an integral part of him.
When he finally reached the top, it only took him half a second to realize someone else had beaten him there. He froze as his eyes locked on his best friend's back. What was he doing here? Last he'd checked, Havoc had taken off for a date the instant they'd gotten off work. There was no way he should've been back by now…unless things had gone terribly wrong, which, given Jean's track record, was entirely possible. Judging by the fact that he was smoking up here despite knowing that wasn't the greatest for the plants, it was probable.
The shorter soldier nodded to himself and then strode over and crouched down near his friend. He pulled on his gloves and then reached out to grab the nearest plant - a tomato plant that was just a few days away from being ripe - and began examining it.
Up here, it wasn't Breda's job to ask. If Havoc needed to talk, then he would. But, for now, it was better to let the blonde work through this on his own. The garden was more therapeutic then Breda could ever be and, well, they wouldn't be best friends if Breda didn't know when not to push.
Besides, both of them knew that, while words had their place, actions often spoke louder than words. Their garden was living proof of that. No matter where their lives took them or what kind of chaos was going on around them, they always came back to it. It was constant and that was important. It'd be there when they got their hearts broken. It'd be their when their parents died or when they lost a friend. It'd be there when they finally made their move against the government and, hopefully, it'd be there when this country was run by a democracy. It'd be there after, when they both took separate paths in life, when they went off and got married and had families of their own. As long as they both walked this earth, it would be there.