Chapter Text
There was a dent in Clover's bed. His hands traced its outline as he stared straight ahead. He was reluctant to move. He was scared to ruin it. Memories were floating around in the air and in his head. It was as though he were trapped behind a sheet of glass, watching his own thoughts pass him by like ships in the night or fish in the sea. It felt surreal and delicate, as though made of frost and glass, and any outstretched hand for a warm embrace would melt it in his fingertips and cast the dream away. It was a childish wish to cling to a passing moment, like trying to remember a dream you'd already forgotten. At least, while it would surely pass, he would remember it.
Clover had let him leave without a fight. He'd pretended to sleep as Qrow slipped out of his arms and left. There was no fear of a goodbye; Qrow was better than that. Yet Clover regretted sizing him up and falling into him so easily. He knew better than anyone that Qrow needed space and was terrible at asking for it. It showed in how he always slipped out of sight when others celebrated. He stayed as long as he was needed, and he had grown accustomed to only being needed to fight. Only being needed when things were bad.
So for someone like Clover, who needed him even when things were good, it was torture.
What a strange feeling it was, he mused. It had followed him like a black dog in the dead of night. It lurked within pitch-black alleyways and fed off whatever scraps it could find. Even in a life graced by Lady Luck herself, there were things luck was powerless to stop. No amount of fortune could bring back the dead. And while Clover was lucky enough still to avoid tragedies like those, there were things missing. It was a problem many dealt with. Everyone knows one day, at any moment, their light could be snuffed out - and death was a fate far kinder than a life lived with a broken heart. Yet even still there were those shining few who knew of the dark and ominous fate we all march to. And as they marched towards that dark, dreary end... they did not hide their light out of fear of losing it. They burned brightly not in blissful ignorance but in open defiance of the somber fate we all share in our hearts. To flicker is to lose hope, and to lose hope is to lay still and accept that fate worse than death.
Clover had to stay strong. For his team, even if they couldn't care less about him. For his kingdom, even as it stifled him. For Mantle, even as it hated him.
For Qrow, even as he left him.
-- ♣
Qrow had been avoiding him. It hurt more than he'd care to admit. Every time Clover's eyes glanced to the side, hopeful he'd catch Qrow doing the same, the man was staring straight ahead, as cold and lifeless as Atlas itself. He took flight at the slightest disturbance, and seemed reluctant to speak even a single word. This was more like the man in the stories he'd been fed and scoffed at. But that wasn't the Qrow he knew. Where had he gone? Why was he hiding?
He'll come back soon, Clover reasoned. He just needed some space. Who was he to clip the wings of a bird so beautiful and demand he stay, just because he was too weak to stand on his own sometimes? Clover had gone all his life standing alone. He could go a day more. What was one more crack in a fractured glass?
He wasn't good at hiding it, though. People were talking and people were asking what was wrong. They never could pin down exactly what was wrong, though; just shrug and say he seemed different these days. It should've been obvious to anyone who cared to read between the lines. But that wasn't how Atlas did things. Everything was done with the cold professionalism he had come to expect and adhere to, with none of his warm smiles or flirtatious comments ever finding their mark. A lust for companionship, for warmth, for a breath of fresh air in a city so clean it felt polluted. It marked every step he took and every action he made. He kept himself strong, telling himself how he'd change Atlas and Mantle in time. He just had to climb the ladder; gather power; make connections. How long would that take? By the time you get the power you need, you're too high to even reach the people you tried so hard for. With each passing day more was demanded from him. He had to stand tall for everyone who needed him. He couldn't fail. He couldn't fail his kingdom. Everything would fall into place soon. He just had to carry on.
He loved his kingdom. He respected General Ironwood. He wanted to believe they were making the world a better place... they just needed more time. Everyone would see that their goals and achievements more than made up for every questionable choice they had to make. To lose faith in that would be to flicker. To lose faith in that would be a fate worse than death.
But without Qrow, today was just another day he had lived through too many times. He couldn’t wallow in his thoughts even a second longer. It was time to act.
-- ♣
“Hard day at work?” Clover asked with a voice as warm as he could make it. He carried two cups of hot chocolate - something of a delicacy - and let himself into Qrow’s room. “Ironwood sure has faith in you if he’s willing to send you out alone like that.”
Qrow jumped up in shock. He had been sitting by the window, curtains open, and gazing up at the sky. Stars littered the velvet black backdrop of the night sky like glitter thrown carelessly by a child, hoping it would stick. It was a habit Clover noticed he did a lot. When feeling overwhelmed or lost, he would gaze up at the sky like it were a map he was destined to follow. Like it held every answer written within, but in a language that nobody understood. So close and yet so far.
As he sat there, too surprised to scowl, Clover felt a rush of pure emotion when he looked at him, bathing in the cool blue light as if it were the sea, carrying him away to distant lands.
By watching Qrow, Clover saw himself.
“Something like that,” he said, with not enough bite left in him to reject the drink. “Seems you’re always taking care of me.” There was a bitterness within that sound.
“It doesn’t bother me, you know,” Clover replied. And it was true. He’d give him everything he wanted and needed at the drop of a pin. All he had to do was ask.
“That’s the bad part.”
Silence fell. It was a way of ignoring the weight of what felt like the world hanging between them. The silence was suffocating, the pressure too much; yet pressure is how diamonds form. Qrow was slipping away, down a dark path. And worse still, he believed he was doing the right thing.
It was Qrow who broke the silence. He couldn’t stand Clover’s eyes. They were filled with so much kindness he shied away from. How could he ever be worth it?
“One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed because you’ll be too busy watching my back rather than your own.”
“With you by my side? I don’t think you’d let that happen.”
Qrow’s grip on his drink tightened and he looked away in frustration and shame. “How can you say that? You barely know me.”
“Correction. I haven’t known you for very long, but I definitely know you,” Clover said, leaning forward in his chair. “I know you’re a valuable asset to any team you’re on. I know you’ve got a sharp mind that works quick. I know you’ve got a sixth sense for all sorts of trouble, and I know you’re afraid you’re responsible for every bad thing that happens. How can you know for sure you aren’t, right?”
Qrow had no response to that, but his cheeks burned red. “When you say fears aloud, they always sound stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, Qrow,” Clover said. It baffled Clover. How could Qrow not see the good he did? How much those around him relied on him? He was scared of shadows he could easily eradicate… if he’d only burn as brightly as he did when Clover saw him smile. “But you’ve got to let it go. You can’t blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for not being perfect.”
“Easy for you to say, with how perfect you’ve got things.” Qrow snarled. It was frustration he’d held in for so long, aimed at himself and all the kingdom around him. “Head of the Ace Ops, safe and sound in Atlas, a Semblance people like me would kill to have. Not everyone gets dealt the same hand as you. So maybe you can realize why people like me can’t just ‘let things go’ like you can.”
“It’s always easier said than done. I won’t deny that,” Clover sighed. “But you need to stop running from this. You won’t fix anything if you carry on the way you’re going. It’s a lonely path.”
Qrow snorted at that, with a sadness hidden within his eyes. “Look at us now. Look at what happened. I hurt you already. The people I care about are better off without someone like me hanging around.”
“I don’t think they’re better off at all,” Clover said quietly. And Qrow glanced at him with an eyebrow raised and a look of shock. “You certainly never hurt me.”
“...What do you mean?”
Clover took a deep breath and steadied himself. He looked up and almost faltered, seeing compassion in Qrow’s eyes that warmed his soul. He felt safer than ever before.
“Here in Atlas, what do people see when they see me? A symbol of good luck. A leader of the Ace Ops. A perfect paragon of a knight.” Clover said, his voice unnaturally still in a practiced tone. “Here in Atlas, there’s a pursuit for a higher truth, and a greater order. But in such desperate times, there’s so much pressure on me - and so many others - to be the perfect selves we worked so hard to be. There’s no place for weakness, or doubt, or hesitation.
“When I met you, you were someone who didn’t care about any of that. You never shut up about how much you hate this place,” Clover teased, a fond warmth dripping back into his voice like honey. “And it was freeing to finally be seen as me. My Semblance can feel like it defines me, too. Sometimes any good thing I do is just luck rather than a result of any work or talent from me. Like if it weren’t for my Semblance, I could be anyone at all. You work in spite of that. You define your own power. You compete with the strongest, even with a Semblance that works against you just as much as it helps you.
“You show me that I can one day get out of my own shadow. When you’re around, I feel I have an equal - not someone lower or higher than me. Someone who sees me for all my good and my bad, and someone strong enough to stand on his own, even if I were to fail.” Clover hadn’t even noticed a tear dripping down his face, until Qrow leaned forward to wipe it away. He didn’t even need to say anything. His presence was enough, and it was obvious he understood. How could he not? The two were cut from the same cloth.
Clover’s tone had finally broken. His body relaxed in his chair as he let himself fall to pieces; unaware of how much he had been holding in. When you’ve held it for so long, you forget it was ever even there. Like sunlight bursting onto a night sky, spilling like paint, his emotions fell out of him and unto the world around him, a triumphant reclamation. And Qrow held him as Clover had once held him, and smoothed his hair and was simply there. And that was enough.
“I’m sorry,” Qrow whispered, voice barely audible. He sounded wracked with sorrow, yet love carried him forward rather than backward. He was fighting the urge to run as he always did. To truly overcome his demons he was so afraid of. “At the ball, I thought I would be ready. But seeing everyone so happy, and how close I came to drinking again… I got scared. Scared that I hadn’t changed at all and I was just pretending to. I didn’t want to hurt you. So I ran from it and said it was for your sake.” He stared down at his half-empty cup, gazing at his reflection.
“I don’t care about that,” Clover said, with steel-like resolve. He gripped Qrow’s chin and tipped his gaze upwards, so Qrow could tell from the intensity burning in his eyes he meant every word he said. “I don’t care that you’re not perfect. I don’t care if you make mistakes. I care that you’re here and we can do something about them together because I’m better when you’re around me.”
A pause.
“Please, Qrow. I need you.” It was the honest truth, and nothing but it. It was like life had finally spilled its secrets to him, and he’d learned of all that he had once been missing. He finally knew what it was he had been hungering for all his life. It felt as though he had finally found a place worthy of calling home. It was the most human and animalistic of all desires; to hunt for love. To look for heaven in the eyes of another, to find peace in their arms, and to find salvation in their love. It was all that he had never truly had. He couldn’t lose it.
“I promise.”