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It was about 11:30 in the evening: the sky was near pitch black, only lit up by the glowing stars that were speckled all over it like freckles on skin and the moon radiating a pale yellow; all the windows of the nearby houses were dark, the birds had quietened down for the night and the only sounds you could hear in this outer part of town were some stray cars from the freeway a few kilometers away and a few rodents digging through the trash of their sleeping symbiotic neighbours, so Branzy felt extremely loud as he scaled the brick wall of the house his best friend and him lived in as quietly as he could. But from experience he knew he wasn’t as loud as he felt: he had done this time and time before, scaled up the wall to break into his own room.
One might wonder why Branzy would break into his own room and risk potentially waking his neighbours, when he could just walk in through the front door, but the thing was he couldn’t just do that because in true Branzy fashion he had forgotten his keys at home before leaving earlier that day. Rek, being the almost annoyingly proper adult, was probably home already, but they didn’t live in the newest most modern house because they liked the aesthetic and their doorbell was rather loud and would definitely wake up anyone who was sleeping in a fifteen meter radius, so ringing the doorbell wasn’t an option.
Which was why Branzy, like so many times before, found himself at the backside of the house, climbing up the protruding bricks. Apparently, though, as one might’ve guessed, being slightly intoxicated didn’t really help performing an already pretty difficult climb to the top middle window. But it was still completely managable. Kind of.
After falling down from the height of the lowest window for the third time, Branzy discovered a part of the brick wall that seemed far easier to climb a little to the right. As he started climbing up there, he wondered why he had never used this path before. It was far more easy! All he had to do was climb up the almost ladder like bricks and get through his windows.
It took him about five minutes to climb to the top, which was far quicker than any time before, and Branzy couldn’t help but feel insanely smart as he clumsily picked the rightmost window’s lock and carefully climbed inside. Seriously, why hadn’t he thought of this before?!
Inside, he swayed a little and realised that he had gotten more drunk than he had thought. His vision was blurry and he kept walking into things he could have sworn had never been in his room. It was as if his room’s layout had been reversed completely while he had been gone. He knew that wasn’t very likely, though, so it must’ve been the alcohol. But he hadn’t even drunk that much, did his alcohol tolerance sink suddenly?
“Wh’tever…” Branzy mumbled to himself as he stumbled towards the bed, deciding that he was too out of it to change before going to sleep. He kicked off his shoes as quietly as he could so as to not wake Rek, who was sleeping in the room directly next to his, and ungracefully slid into bed, automatically wrapping his arms around the warm XL teddy bear that definitely hadn’t been there when he had left earlier. Branzy didn’t care to think about that now, though, instead cuddling against it as sleep came over him faster than he could think.
Clown had gone to bed alone, as always. And that wasn’t even a self-pitying complaint, it was a statement of a bare and basic fact, something he wouldn’t even need to clarify to himself or the reader, had the locial consequence of waking up alone taken place.
Clown had gone to bed alone, he knew that for a fact. And yet, the first thing he became aware of were warm and strong arms loosely wrapped around him, what felt like a face in the crook of his neck and legs entagled with his. He had gone to bed alone, so why was there someone in his bed?!
So before Clown could even open his eyes, his body was already going through a fight or flight response and pumping adrenaline through his veins, but he forced himself to stay calm, assess the situation.
The arms around his waist and upper stomach were thicker than his and somewhat hard to the touch, indubidably a lot of muscle, so he’d have to be careful. He was good at fighting, but for the most part, his strength came from the flow of motion, careful planning and bluffing. Being still, trapped in the arms of someone definitely physically stronger than him, though, wasn’t really a situation he could fight in very well.
A quiet panic grew up his throat, but Clown pushed it down. If he was careful enough, it might not even come to that before he was standing and able to fight properly. If the loose way the person was holding him and the steady rise and fall of their chest was anything to go off of, they were fast asleep. The light smell of beer made Clown a little nervous to say the least – intoxicated people were not safe to be around and very unpredictable –, but a bit more confident, too. Because the chances getting out of the person’s grasp were higher with the person being as deeply asleep as Clown thought they were.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, tensing slightly as the warm yellow light hit his pupils, and gingerly moved the tattooed arm off his waist. He could have sworn he had seen that tattoo before. But that didn’t matter. He could think about that once he was out of that situation.
As soon as he got the arm off of him and untangled their legs, he quietly slid out of his bed and stood up. He turned around to take a look at the sleeping trespasser. Like he had guessed, it was a man, a little taller than himself and with a much larger and stronger frame than him. A fight he would have lost had the man been awake.
He was wearing a crumpled up dress shirt and a slightly ripped suit vest, as well as dress pants and black fingerless gloves. His shoes lay a few meters from Clown’s bed and by his spinny desk chair.
Most importantly, the man had short silvery-white curls. Silvery-white curls that Clown would be able to tell apart anywhere.
“Branzy?” he murmured, mostly to himself, “Why are you…?”
As he racked his brain for reasons as to why Branzy would be here (and tried not to gush over having cuddled with Branzy ), a small gust of wind came through Clown’s window, making him shiver slightly. Which wouldn’t be a big deal if Clown didn’t close his window every night before going to sleep for obvious reasons.
Tearing his gaze away from Branzy, Clown turned to his window, which was half open. Deciding to investigate, he stepped a little closer. There were a few handprints on the glass as well as in the dust of the outside windowsill. On it was also a thin and long pin, which Branzy must’ve used to acess the inside lock to open it without breaking anything. Clever.
Clown looked back at Branzy, considering him for a few seconds, before closing the window, careful as to not to make a sound and wake Branzy. Then, he walked back to the bed and picked up the corners of the blanket before pausing. Sleeping in those clothes could not be comfortable. Changing Branzy wasn’t an option for obvious reasons, but he could at least remove the vest and make sure it wouldn’t rip further. Actually, he could probably fix the rip, too.
So, carefully and painfully slowly, Clown helped Branzy out of his vest. It was a tedious process, but at the end of it, Branzy did look a tad more comfortable. Clown couldn’t stop a soft smile from overtaking his lips as he carefully laid the blanket on Branzy, who cuddled into it. A small part of him wanted to kiss his forehead or like, run his hand through his curls, but he kept to himself.
Next course of action. Branzy had obviously drunk the night before, so at least a mild hangover was to be expected. So that’s something Clown should prepare for.
Being someone who generally stricly stays away from alcohol, Clown didn’t really have things against hangovers, didn’t know any recipes, but he still knew the basics. A lot of water and painkillers should do.
Clown quietly left the room and went to a kitchen, where he got an empty bottle, which he filled with cool water. He briefly set it down on the kitchen table as he got his box of ibuprofen and bent off a pill, then picked up the bottle again and walked back to his bedroom. There, he put the bottle and ibuprofen on his nightstand and cleaned up the few things Branzy must’ve knocked over when he broke in as much as he could without waking the other.
Only once he had finished that, did he take the vest and exited the room again, leaving the door ajar. He walked to the dying room (a living room but for edgy 22 year olds), took his basic sewing kit and sat down at the table, where he started working on fixing Branzy’s vest.
After about ten to fifteen minutes, he finished up completely the last rip’s ‘scar’ and laid the vest on the table again.
“What now?” Clown quietly murmured to himself. The flat was too quiet and Clown was getting bored, felt like he needed to do something. But there was only so much he could do with Branzy asleep in his bed. He was glad that it was the weekend and he didn’t need to go to work anytime soon, but at the same time his fingers were itching to do something, anything. Suddenly there were so many things he should be doing, he should be working on, he should look for, but he couldn’t leave or do anything that made much noise.
Why did Branzy even break into his room through the window? It must’ve been because he was drunk, but still, what was his motive? Clown couldn’t imagine Branzy trying to steal from him and it wouldn’t allign with the fact that Branzy hadn’t even left his room and just got into bed with him. But that just couldn’t be it either. Branzy couldn’t possibly have drunkenly thought he wanted to have a sleepover with Clown and let himself in.
Clown sighed quietly and stood up. Racking his brain for answers he didn’t have and going through hypotheticals wasn’t productive in any way. What would help, what would be good?
What would a hungover person need aside from painkillers and water? Food. Food, Clown could somewhat cook. Nothing special or really good, but he could follow a recipe.
Clown walked to the kitchen as he thought about what to make. Hungover people might not be able to keep down heavy foods, so it’d have to be something light on the stomach. He should have fresh veggies in the kitchen that he could make a soup with. Soup was good, right? Yes, soup should be good.
Clown nodded to himself, satisfied with his decision and took out his magical recipe book to see how he could use his veggies to make a nice soup. Once he had that set up, he started his cooking process.
Branzy woke up to a pleasant smell hitting his nose and a light migraine crashing into his brain. He stretched slightly and almost winced at the pain from the strain of his muscles. The bed felt softer than usual, the blanket a little heavier. And that smell was intensifying.
Branzy blearily opened his eyes and almost immediately squeezed them shut when the sun hit his eyes. Why was his bed so close to the window? He had put it on the left side of the window just to avoid this, so why…? This was all so strange…
Branzy slowly opened his eyes again and looked around the room, just to… not recognise anything? Yeah, this was not his room. What was… Branzy felt himself pale a little. Did he get really drunk last night and went home with someone? He couldn’t remember a single thing about that!
He swallowed, suddenly aware of the lack of his vest. It wasn’t anywhere in the room, either. Did someone steal it?! Or… did he use it as a betting item again? Gosh, that would be embarrassing. He really hoped it wasn’t any of those things, but he supposed he’d have to ask the person whose bed he was in about that.
As he sat up and pushed what he recognised as a weighted blanket now off of him, he felt the need to swallow again and realised just how dry his mouth and lips felt. He needed something to drink ASAP, preferably really cold water.
On the nightstand next to the bed was a bottle and Branzy was almost tempted to drink from it, but held back as it was probably whoever’s room this was’s and he knew better than to be an impolite fuck and use other people’s stuff without permission.
The best thing to do now would probably get out of the room and look for the mysterious person and ask them for water and an explanation, so Branzy stood up and walked to the door, stumbling a few times. As he opened it the pleasant smell hit him like a truck — if the truck was the possibility of food and he was a starving man, that is — and embarrassingly enough, that was all that it took for his stomach to growl in hunger. He felt blood rush to his now definitely bright red cheeks in mortification, but shook his head. That smell was freshly cooked food, so someone must’ve been in the kitchen, so that’s where Branzy went.
Amazingly enough, he was right, as, when he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted by the Clown Pierce, Branzy’s neighbour, loose friend, technically business partner and crush since his last year of college, stirring a pot of soup.
“Clown?” he asked, not able to conceal his surprise and sluggishness as much as he might’ve wanted to. It was a little embarassing, really, that Clown had to witness him like this. Branzy didn’t know what he could even do to come back from this and make Clown think that he’s cool. But on the other hand, Branzy was glad to have woken up in Clown’s place and not just somewhere on the street or in a stranger’s place. Clown was safe, after all.
Speaking of, Clown turned to him, his expression neutral and untelling as always.
“Branzy,” he said, his lips turning in an unnatural, almost uncanny smile, “You’re awake.”
Branzy smiled and nodded. “Yeah,” he said before letting his smile drop. “Hey, uh, I don’t remember last night, like, at all. What happened?”
Clown frowned slightly. “I was hoping you could tell me that,” he said, expression switching again to an… almost fond one?
“Huh?” Branzy asked, confused, “What- uh, what do you mean?”
Clown’s free hand moved up to his face and he quietly chuckled into his fist, his eyes squinting slightly as his smile reached them and looking at Branzy with such intensity that made him almost want to swoon.
“I don’t know why you’re here or what you did before you got here,” Clown explained, “All I know is that my window’s lock was picked – presumably by you – and that I woke up with you holding me in your sleep.”
Branzy felt his cheeks heat up more and more with each word Clown spoke in his far too soft, far too smooth voice.
“I broke in to cuddle with you ?!” Branzy squeaked, hiding his face in his hands in embarrassment.
“There, there,” Clown said, patting Branzy’s shoulder, “I’m sure that wasn’t drunk-you’s motive when he broke into my room.”
Branzy peeked through his fingers to see Clown’s slightly amused expression on his beautiful face. “But it might’ve been!” Branzy wailed dramatically and stopped hiding his face in favour of grabbing Clown’s shoulders and shaking them slightly, “Oh my god, what if I broke into your flat with the motive of cuddling with you, that’d be so embarrassing!”
Clown chuckled into his fist again and put his hand, which had been holding the ladle just a few moments prior to Branzy shaking his shoulders, on Branzy’s shoulder.
“Branzy,” he said softly, though his voice took on a slightly teasing edge. “Is there a reason you believe you’d break into my apartment because you want to cuddle with me when you’re drunk? Anything you want to tell me?”
Branzy froze completely, feeling even more heat rush to his face. “Wh- what?” he asked nervously, shuddering as Clown made direct eye contact.
“I asked,” Clown murmured, leaning a little closer, “why you seem so convinced that you broke into my apartment because you wanted to cuddle with me. Is there a reason for that?”
Branzy pressed his lips shut as he paled slightly. He knew Clown was terrifying, but he had never quite witnessed it like this. Clown knew, didn’t he? He knew and he was going to kill Branzy for it.
Clown exhaled audibly in what might’ve been silent laughter. “I think I might know the reason,” he whispered, “Do you want to know what I think?”
Branzy gulped. “ Do I want to know?” he rambled nervously, “You know, I might not want to know, actually. Yeah, I think I don’t want to. It’s not all that deep anyways, you know, I think you’re thinking too deeply. Uh– that’s not to say you’re wrong or like not on the right track – I mean, you are, but, like, not because you made a mistake, it’s just a simple–”
He cut himself off when he noticed that Clown was staring at him with a growing smile. His mouth went dry – if that was even possibly with how dehydrated he was at the moment.
“Branzy,” Clown said and – if Branzy didn’t know better, he’d say it was dripping with affection, “Branzy, holy shit.”
Branzy blinked in confusion, his palms sweating where they were planted on Clown’s shoulders. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to run and hide or if he wanted to stay still or even pull Clown closer as the other moved his other hand to Branzy’s other shoulder, mirroring the way Branzy was holding him.
“Branzy,” he repeated and Branzy would have asked if he was okay if he wasn’t frozen under Clown’s stare, “Branzy, I am so fucking in love with you, it’s insane.”
Branzy swallowed audibly. “What?” he asked, voice cracking and sounding embarrassingly high, but he couldn’t focus on that because WHAT. Clown had just– surely he was– “You’re kidding.”
But Clown shook his head. “I’m not,” he said, smiling knowingly, “And – correct me if I’m wrong – but I think you have a crush on me at the very least, too. Am I wrong?”
Branzy’s cheeks warmed and he swallowed again, feeling like he couldn’t get a sound out with how dry his mouth was. Almost as if Clown could read his mind, he let go of him and turned to the side to fill him a glass of water, before handing it to Branzy. Branzy gladly took the glass and drank it all in one go.
“Forgot you were hungover, sorry,” Clown said, smiling apologetically as he guided Branzy to sit at the table and served him a bowl of soup, “Here, have some soup.”
Branzy smiled slightly. “Thanks,” he said softly. Then came a spike in his headache and he continued, “You don’t happen to have painkillers, do you?”
Clown frowned. “I put some water and ibuprofen on the nightstand,” he said. “Did you not take them?”
Branzy blinked and remembered that there had been a bottle of water and a pill on the nightstand. “No, sorry,” he said sheepishly, shaking his head, “I didn’t realise it was meant for me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clown answered calmly and walked to the door, “I’ll get them real quick, brb.”
Branzy would have commented on the fact that Clown had said ‘brb’ out loud in real life, but he was a little too busy thinking about the events of this day so far. More specifically, that Clown had not only said that he was in love with him, but also insisted that that was the truth and said that he thought Branzy liked him too. He was right, of course, but it was still so insane to Branzy. Clown knew and he liked him too?! What!
Like, yeah, maybe it was a little obvious that Branzy was head over heels in love with Clown, but Clown just… outright told him that he, the Clown Pierce, the love of Branzy’s life, was in love with him , Branzy. That was… something, to say the least.
Branzy’s train of thought was interrupted by a hand holding a singular pill appearing in his sight. Of course the hand was Clown’s and he gratefully took the pill and tried to swallow it dry. Keyword: tried. He almost choked on it and had to be saved with a glass of water by Clown.
“There you go,” Clown said softly, gently rubbing Branzy’s back. “Are you feeling better?”
Branzy nodded, wiping away the tears that had come with almost choking. “Sorry, yeah,” he half-coughed out, “I’m good, thanks.”
Clown smiled and pushed the bowl of soup back in front of Branzy. “You should eat now,” he said and sat down across from Branzy when the other took his spoon. The two ate in near silence for about ten minutes until Clown was long done with his portion and Branzy was finally close to finishing and Clown broke the silence.
“You never answered the question, you know,” Clown murmured as Branzy took another spoonfull of soup.
“Hm?” Branzy hummed questioningly as his mouth was preoccupied with the soup.
“If I was wrong about my assumption,” Clown explained. “You know, about you liking me back?”
Branzy’s eyes widened and he almost choked on the soup, but barely saved himself before it could happen. He slowly swallowed his soup and thought about what he should say as Clown patiently watched and waited.
“I’m, uh,” Branzy said, once he had no excuse not to speak anymore, “You’re… You’re not wrong. I do like you. Uh, a lot. Actually, I–” Branzy cut himself off. Should he really say it? What if Clown was just toying with him and didn’t actually like him like that? Clown didn’t seem like someone who’d do that, but what if?
Clown’s voice was soft when he spoke after about a minute. “You?” he asked, clearly in a way that was meant to be unthreatening and Branzy just couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“I don’t just, you know, like you,” Branzy said, staring down at his soup, “I think I’m- I’m in love with you, Clown.”
Branzy didn’t look back up for fear of Clown’s reaction, so he didn’t see how Clown’s cheeks reddened, how he smiled almost giddily and how he stood up to walk over to him. And with how quiet Clown was, he only noticed that Clown had moved once the man was standing right in front of him, forcing him to look up with his mere presence.
“Kiss me,” Clown said and despite the usage of the imperative, it didn’t sound commanding at all, yet Branzy stood up all the same and did what Clown told him to: cupped Clown’s cheek with one hand, pulled him a little closer with the other hand on Clown’s lower back and placed his lips on Clown’s.
Clown’s lips were soft and smooth and warm, only a little chipped at parts that he was prone to biting and his arms were over Branzy’s shoulders, crossed behind his neck and right where Branzy needed them to be. It felt wonderful and made him wonder how he ever could have hesitated to tell Clown about his feelings. Well, thinking about it, he had very valid concerns and even now he couldn’t actually be sure that this wasn’t just a cruel joke, that Clown didn’t actually love him, but as if Clown could feel that Branzy’s thoughts were drifting, he pulled him a little closer, forced him back in the moment to keep his balance and not fall on top of Clown. And weirdly enough, it worked. Branzy physically couldn’t think about anything else than Clown in that moment, about anything but how much he wanted to pull Clown closer beyond physical restrictions.
The kiss probably lasted for only a minute or so, but it felt like forever and still not long enough. When they parted, Clown looked at Branzy, head angled slightly upwards. Their height difference was subtle, but in the moment, Branzy really realised that without his big shoes, Clown was shorter than him by at least three centimeters. It didn’t really mean that much, but it was an interesting realisation.
Clown’s eyes weren’t purely pale blue, Branzy realised as they looked into each other’s eyes, there were specks of brown on the inner side and a few white ones near the outer edge of his irises. They were beautiful. Branzy was about to tell Clown this, when a small thud came from the flat beside Clown’s, causing the both of them to jump. Then Rek’s voice sounded, calling for Branzy, dampened by the wall.
“I think this is when you go home,” Clown murmured, “Don’t want Rek to file a missing person report, do we?”
Branzy nodded. “Shame,” he said, “I really wanted to kiss some more.”
Clown smiled. “You’re free to drop by any time if I’m home,” he offered as he walked Branzy to the door.
“I will,” Branzy said, about to open the door when he realised his vest was still missing. “Hey, do you know where my vest is? I think I might’ve lost it.”
“Right,” Clown said, “It ripped while you slept, so I took the liberty of fixing it for you, let me go get it real quick.”
Branzy nodded and smiled to himself as Clown quickly walked through the door to their right that Branzy hadn’t even noticed until now. He came back out only a few seconds later, holding in his hands Branzy’s favourite vest, and handed it to him.
“Thanks, Clown,” Branzy said and put on his vest. He couldn’t be seen walking around in a dress shirt now, could he?
When he finished puttin it on and looked at Clown, he was greeted by a hand holding a key in his face.
“Uh, what’s that?” Branzy asked, perhaps a little awkwardly, and Clown smiled.
“My spare apartment key,” he said, “If you ever feel like cuddling at night when I'm already sleeping without breaking in through my window, feel free to come through the door.”
Branzy smiled softly. “Thanks Clown,” he said, “I’m honoured.”
“You better be,” Clown said and kissed him on the cheek. Branzy blushed a little.
“I’d give you my spare key, too, but I don’t really have one and I don’t know how Rek would feel about me giving you the key to our shared apartment and–” Branzy said, cutting himself off as he remembered why he was leaving in the first place. “And speaking of Rek, I gotta go and make sure he doesn’t file me as missing.”
Clown chuckled. “Go do that,” he said, “I’ll be here or at the theater if you need me.”
Branzy smiled and gave his boyfriend (question mark) a quick kiss on the lips before leaving the flat and running to his own, hoping Rek wouldn’t kill him for worrying him.
It was around midnight and the moon was shining through Clown’s window, serving as a decent light source as he worked on editing the script for his next big performance, when a small thud came from the window.
Clown looked to it from where he was sitting at his desk to see Branzy kneeling on his outer windowsill, fiddling with the lock. Bemused, Clown stood up from where he was sitting and walked to the window. Branzy on the other side, stopped fiddling with the lock and smiled brightly when he saw Clown, who ended up opening the window for him.
“Heyyy,” he awkwardly said as he slid through the window and Clown closed it behind him, shivering a little from the cold.
“I thought I gave you a key,” Clown commented as Branzy pocketed his needle-like tool.
“You did,” Branzy admitted, “But I kind of… forgot it at home?”
Clown blinked a few times. “You forgot it at home?” he asked and Branzy nodded.
“I forgot it at home,” he confirmed. “First I was going to break into my room to get it, but then I thought I’d just come in through the window while I’m at it.”
Clown chuckled. “Maybe I should make a necklace for your keys,” he said, “So that you don’t have to remember to take them with you.”
Branzy shook his head. “Nah,” he said and paused for a second. “I mean, I wouldn’t reject a gift from you, but I mean, I can always come in through the window, can’t I?”
Clown shook his head fondly. “I insist,” he said, “You need your keys on you. Besides, there might be a time where you can’t get in through the window.”
Branzy smiled softly. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll allow it. Can we cuddle now?”
“Wash your hands and change first.”
