Author's Note: As much as I love the companions and romances in Fallout 4, the dialogue is often a bit awkward. And that's fine; that's pretty typical for Bethesda's sandboxes, but I wanted to offer a more detailed and hopefully more emotional take on this scene. This is chapter 1; chapter 2 will soon follow. If you want context, YouTube has some videos of this scene in the game.
The title, by the way, is a line taken from a 16th-century poem by Michael Drayton.
MacCready remembered the first time he saw Nate, when the Sole Survivor strode into the shithole bar where the sniper had set up shop. In vain, of course, since the Gunners had done everything they could to drive off clients. The Sole Survivor, though, just strode into the room, clad in an obnoxiously blue Vault suit. MacCready remembered vaguely thinking, as he berated two idiots, that the muscled blonde was very handsome. His opinion grew after the Survivor dropped 250 caps in the mercenary's hands.
He also remembered the moment of pure shock and joy when Nate professed his love for a man who'd always thought himself unlovable. MacCready recalled stepping forward, seizing the Survivor in his arms and pulling him into a deep kiss that set the sniper's veins on fire. From that day, they'd walked hand in hand, sharing a bed, making love under the stars, fighting to finally make a world where they could finally build something almost like a normal life.
But Nate was drifting away from now. MacCready couldn't escape the air of resentment that surrounded Nate; the sullen silences clawed at him; Nate shrugging at every suggestion tore him down. He still woke MacCready up every morning with a kiss, still said "I love you" every night when they laid down…but it had become hollow. The feeling was fading, and not on MacCready's end. Robert was still as in love with the Survivor as he had been on that amazing day when Nate confessed his true feelings. But watching Nate shut him out…it was too painful.
MacCready had realized weeks ago what needed to happen. What needed to be said. It had robbed him of many hours of sleep since, but the time was now.
"Nate…we need to talk," MacCready said.
The Survivor turned and regarded Robert. MacCready could feel his lover tense as he threw up his guard. Nate knew what was coming, but it didn't make the coming conversation any easier.
"What's up?" Nate asked, skillfully masking his trepidation.
MacCready forced down the lump of fear and sorrow in his chest. He couldn't afford to back off again. He sighed and began. "A while ago, you told me you wanted to be with me, that you saw me as more than a friend. It felt right, so I agreed. I thought I'd found the love of my life, someone I could settle down with, make a place where I could hang my hat and my rifle."
Nate returned his declaration with a measured stare. He was clearly waiting for the sniper to continue, so he did.
"But lately, you've been changing. You're distant. You're ignoring me, doing everything your own way. You seem…angry with me, and I don't know what I did wrong. Now, I know I'm not the most patient person, but I think I've tolerated quite a bit of this new you." MacCready paused, hoping Nate would say something. Anything.
He did, his voice hoarse but calm enough to border on monotone. "What are you saying?"
This was the hardest part, the part that MacCready had dreaded for weeks. "I'm saying…that we should take a step back from our relationship, at least until things cool down," he admitted. Finally, the moment of judgement had arrived.
Nate looked away for a moment that seemed to last forever. The shadow of a sob wracked MacCready's chest, and he was grateful that his lover…his ex-lover couldn't see. The mercenary regained control of himself just as the Survivor turned to regard him. Nate's eyes were cold…but MacCready could see the pain behind the ice. For a moment, he almost broke, almost told Nate he didn't mean it, that they should just stay together. But he knew that this was necessary.
"Can we still be friends?" Nate asked, his voice steady but quiet, scarcely louder than a whisper. He still wouldn't look MacCready in the eye.
"Always. And…if you still love me, Nate, you'll change. And if not…if you've fallen out of love…then we'll stay friends," Robert responded, his voice shaking.
Nate remained silent for a moment, looking past MacCready into the night advancing with the sun's retreat. In his heart, Robert hoped that Nate would drop to his knees, profess his love, promise to change…anything to convince the sniper that separating would be a mistake, that there was a way out of this mire without losing his love…
Nate closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, any emotion was gone; there was only frost now in those brown eyes, once warm and inviting. The Survivor nodded and set his pack on the ground. "We're close enough to Sanctuary now that we can risk a fire. I'll go chop some firewood. Can you set up the tents?"
MacCready had never imagined one letter could hurt as much as that final -s. Tents. Plural. More than one. After all those happy nights of drifting off to sleep with Nate in his arms, the rough hairs of his lover's coarse, blonde beard ticking MacCready's arms and pecs while the Survivor's steady, quiet breathing lulled him into good dreams…the wall was truly there now. Based on Nate's reaction…it was well and truly done. Nate was lost to him forever.
Nate ambled off to a nearby stretch of dead trees. MacCready waited to set up the camp until he could finally see through his tears.
As he reached the dead, gnarled trees, brown and dry tombstones silently attesting to a lost world, Nate finally started to lose control. He quickly darted behind a tree to hide himself from Robert's sight. Nate didn't want anyone to see him cry.