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clancy won the fight. he pushed on through and resisted, but he didn’t realize that taking out nico would mean taking out a part of himself as well.
his wounds start to unravel him as he makes his way outside the city walls, stumbling back to camp. he nearly stops when he hears the distant cheering of the banditos—their joy is clear, the celebration well-earned, and who is clancy to disrupt that? he considers heading south, letting his legs carry him as far as they can before they give out and allowing his bones to return back to the earth. he can’t though, there’s still another objective on his list, one last thing he has to do before he can surrender to himself. he finally approaches the outer perimeter of the camp, but the banditos don’t even register him, too busy celebrating their victory—only one lone bandito notices him, the one he was searching for, the one who kept him going even as he haunted his waking nightmares.
as always, torchbearer sees him, and rushes over to catch him while he staggers. he offers to take clancy to lay down in his tent, but the man refuses; he knows how this will end, and he wants to be able to look at the open sky one last time before he goes.
light rain drizzles down on him as he stares into the grey clouds , his head resting heavy in torchbearer’s lap . he can’t tell if there are tears streaming down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but he finds that it doesn’t matter much, and that they’re not all that different from one another. torchbearer’s tears, however, feel like acid rain, burning the pallid surface of clancy’s face as they fall, despite his desperate attempts to scrub them away. clancy tries to reassure him it’ll all be okay, but his voice is farther away than he realizes—barely a whisper against the sounds of celebration and the whistling wind of trench. lost in the sound, torchbearer almost misses the three words he’s been dreaming of clancy saying ever since they first met, what seems like lifetimes ago. the words don’t feel sweet now though; they crash like cymbals in his ears and burn like flames behind his eyes, and as much as he wants to say them back, his tongue feels swollen and paralyzed in his mouth. a few rushed words spill from his lips anyways, words that make clancy chuckle weakly. torchbearer wishes he could remember what he said, if only to hear that throaty, broken laugh again. the man speaks again, the same three words, this time slightly louder; though that burst of energy, the last little declaration of love, is what finally does it. clancy’s eyelashes flutter and his flame flickers out.
the impact is immediate—torchbearer feels his own heart stop in his chest, a flood of panic rushing through his nervous system as he frantically runs his hands over clancy’s face, his neck, his hands—anything he can reach—but it’s too late, no matter how desperately he pulls his eyelids up, trying in vain to get the man to look at him, there’s nothing he can do to reignite the fire.
in that moment, he recalls clancy’s words from back when this all started: “we’ll win, but not everyone will get out.”
it wasn’t fair, he thinks bitterly, why did it have to be him that didn’t get out? did clancy know the whole time? was that why he said that?
torchbearer considers screaming out to the sky, demanding answers from a savior who he knows will never give a reply.
instead, he faces his real savior.
“i love you,” torchbearer finally whispers, pressing his forehead to the man’s chest, the steady rise and fall that was so familiar, now gone. “clancy—tyler...i love you.”
it feels useless, no one’s there to hear him anymore; still, he holds him in his arms, even though it’s no good. it continues to rain down on them, chilling torchbearer to his bones. he shivers, but knows any chance of seeking out his normal source of warmth is gone forever.
only one thought remains as torchbearer sits alone, the company he had only a minute ago missing in an instant: i should have loved him better.