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The air is crisp, nipping at the Torchbearer’s skin like a thornbush. The wind blows his dark brown curls against the sides of his beanie. His boot taps the dirt rhythmically as he scoots to the side of the log he sits on, dodging the smoke billowing from the campfire.
“Clancy, we’re so glad you’re back,” a Bandito says, sitting down across the fire from where Clancy and the Torchbearer sit.
“Yeah,” Clancy nods, smiling, “thanks.” The Torchbearer matches his expression, glancing at him.
“What happened at the Annual Assemblage?” Clancy’s back straightens, and the breath he takes is so deep the Torchbearer can hear it. “How’d you make it out?”
“Well, uh, we were on… we were on a submarine,” he says, tapping his fingers repeatedly on his knees.
“We heard there was a dragon,” another one says, interrupting him.
“Yeah, what was that about?”
“And we’ve received word that Bishop Keons is dead.”
“Yeah, Clancy, how do you feel about that? There’s one less now, one less enemy.”
“I imagine it would feel great. To defeat one of the bishops.”
The Torchbearer turns to the man next to him, anticipating his response. Clancy’s head snaps to the side at every question, his hand shaking slightly. He inhales deeply, only letting out short breaths every once in a while. “Um,” he starts. “I don’t know, I mean, he was kind of a… I didn’t—” He trails off, staring down at his hand. The Torchbearer watches his veins pop out as he claws at his pant leg, dirty fingernails scraping the fabric.
“Kind of a what?”
“You didn’t what?”
“Yeah, Clancy? What was—“
“Hey,” the Torchbearer interrupts, immediately silencing the chatter. “Can you all—“
He’s cutting off by a deep sigh from Clancy as his fingers release the fabric of his cargo pants. Clancy pushes against the rough surface of the log, standing up but still shaking as he wordlessly walks into the darkness, towards his tent.
The Torchbearer’s mouth hangs slightly open as he watches Clancy’s outline open the tent door and walk in.
“I’m just gonna—“ He doesn’t finish the sentence. The Banditos around the fire remain silent as the Torchbearer walks in the same direction as Clancy did.
“Hey,” he whispers, crouching down in front of the tent once he reaches it. “It’s me. Can I come in?” He hears the scrapes of plastic against plastic as Clancy undoes the clasp that keeps the tent door shut. The tent opens, revealing half-packed bags and clothes strewn across the floor. Clancy’s cot sits in the corner, wadded-up blankets barely clinging to the side. If the Torchbearer didn’t know already, he wouldn’t have been able to tell whether he was about to leave or had recently returned. In the middle of the whole mess sits Clancy, sitting sideways with his boots still on.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice congested by the tears streaming down his face. “I know they were just happy for me.”
“Don’t apologize,” the Torchbearer replies, moving the hoodie on the floor aside and sitting cross-legged in front of him. “They were putting words in your mouth. If anything, I should be sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”
Clancy hums softly in response, taking a shaky breath. “You don’t have to be here,” he mumbles.
“I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay…”
“I’m not,” Clancy says, his tears becoming less frequent. “And I don’t know why I let you in in the first place.”
The Torchbearer tilts his head, concern spreading across his face. His stomach pangs at the sight of the other man’s blank stare. “I— did you mean that? That hurt, Clancy.” He realizes a moment too late what this is all about.
“You can’t just leave me alone for— for six years and pretend you care about me!” he cries, putting his hands on his knees and leaning forward. The floodgates open again, and the Torchbearer resists the urge to extend his hand towards him.
“But I do care—“
“You don’t think you could have told me that you were— projecting, or whatever you call it?” Clancy raises his voice, causing the Torchbearer to jump. “You could have mentioned it to me, maybe? So that I didn’t sit there for years thinking you actually wanted to help me, so I at least knew why you were always so cold?”
“Cold…?”
“Yeah, Torch, I felt it the whole time. There was something different about you, you were colder and bluer and everything was wrong but I didn’t care. I didn’t care because I thought it was my fault, I came crawling back to Dema like you always thought I would, and you were so ashamed of me that you couldn’t even show me an ounce of worth. I thought I made you like that.”
The Torchbearer catches his words before they leave his mouth, taking in a breath. He didn’t know how projecting worked at first, let alone that Clancy could tell something was off. He just wanted to make him feel less alone while he was in prison, he didn’t mean for it to become a whole issue. “Clancy, you know if I had told you, things would have gotten much worse.”
“Yeah, but at least you wouldn’t be lying to me! You were the only person I trusted, Torch. The only person I really cared about. Sometimes, you were— you were the only thing I was… living for.”
The tent grows quiet as they realize the gravity of what he just said. The Torchbearer tries to start several sentences, but closes his mouth before he can say anything. Eventually, he manages to choke out two words: “I was…?”
Clancy nods ever so slightly, tapping his fingers on the tent floor.
“I— I didn’t know…” the Torchbearer breathes. “You could have told me. That you wanted to…” He tries to fill the space with a word, any word that could possibly be better than die, but he can’t seem to find one. “And I’m here now, okay? I’m real this time. And you can always, always talk to me.”
“I don’t want to,” Clancy says, switching to sit cross-legged too. The Torchbearer knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but he can’t help but frown. “I don’t want to worry you, or— or hurt you…”
“Hearing about whatever’s bothering you isn’t going to hurt me as much as it’ll hurt you if you don’t talk about it.”
“I’m just scared— to tell you things like that.”
“I get that, Clancy. But I think you should try sometime.” He scoots closer to him, so that their knees are nearly touching.
“Maybe I should,” Clancy says, looking down at the floor. “Can I start now?”
The Torchbearer lets out a small laugh. “Sure.”
“Well, for one, I hate campfires now,” he mutters. “I mean, I like the warmth, and I like the way the ashes fly everywhere, and I think it smells nice. But the people start talking, and their voices are everywhere, and I can’t hear anything except questions and questions and I don’t know how to answer all of them. And if someone or something were to come into the campsite, I wouldn’t be able to hear it, and I always need to be able to hear everything that’s going on.”
The Torchbearer nods slowly, not fully understanding but wanting to help Clancy however he can. “We can go sit somewhere else if it’s too much for you. We can just talk by ourselves, or you can do whatever you want. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t want to take up your time,” Clancy replies. “You can go to campfire if you want…”
“Honestly, it’s hard for me too. Everyone always has this expectation that I have something terribly interesting to say, and I really don’t.”
Clancy laughs, resting his face on his hand. He reaches for a pencil that lays to the side and absentmindedly twirls it around in his fingers. “I also get scared sometimes at night, and I can’t go to sleep. Well, I want to go to sleep, and I’m tired, but I keep myself up.”
“I know,” the Torchbearer says, running his hand through the hair under his beanie. “I can hear you rustling around in your tent. Keeps me up, too.”
“Really?” The Torchbearer nods. “Anyways, it’s because I have nightmares sometimes. About—“ Clancy takes a sharp breath in. “the city. The prison. Good Day Dema. And if I sleep, I might have more. And then I wake up all alone and terrified, and I feel like someone’s outside my tent. Watching me.”
The Torchbearer puts a hand on Clancy’s knee. He shivers at the touch, but doesn’t move away. “That sounds really scary, Clance,” he says. “Would it help if I stayed in your tent or somewhere close until you fell asleep?”
“Yeah, that would help,” Clancy smiles, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for telling me all this,” the Torchbearer says. “And I don’t want to bring it up again, but I’m really sorry about the whole projecting situation, I should have—“
“I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you,” Clancy interrupts. “I’m still upset, but it’s not fair to take that out on you. You were just trying to help.”
The Torchbearer looks down at him, smiling softly. They sit in silence for another couple seconds before he takes a deep breath, readjusting his posture.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, too,” he says, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.
Clancy’s smile drops, worry all over his face. “What is it?” He puts his slightly shaking hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Torch, what is it, please tell me—“
“I shouldn’t’ve said it like that,” the Torchbearer says hastily. “It’s not a big deal. Well, it is, kind of, I— shit, this is really stupid.”
“Torch—“ Clancy looks him in the eye, causing him to smile again. He puts his other hand on the Torchbearer’s shoulder, still not breaking eye contact.
“I’m just really glad I met you, and I’m so glad I spent every second I could by your side, and I wish I didn’t have to see all the terrible things they did to you, but it was worth it because you made it back here, and I’m so happy that we get to be together again because I really miss just being with you, and I hope you understand this run-on sentence because I want you to know how much I feel for you, and I want to tell you that…” He takes a gasping breath, partially so he can close his eyes and he doesn’t have to see Clancy looking at him like that. “…I think I’m in love with you.”
Clancy doesn’t respond, allowing a thousand thoughts to flood the Torchbearer’s brain.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to avoid Clancy’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have—“
“Please don’t apologize,” Clancy says, and when the Torchbearer finally looks up, he’s smiling. He cups the Torchbearer’s face with his hand, drawing circles on his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I think I’m in love with you too.” He leans in, blocking all the screams in his head telling him he can’t, he shouldn’t, he wouldn’t, and kisses him on the lips.
The Torchbearer kisses him back, pressing his hand harder into Clancy’s knee. He tastes like campfire smoke and wild berries, his lips dry and cracked from the change in altitude.
“This is not what I expected to happen tonight,” Clancy breathes, breaking the kiss for just a second.
“Yeah, me neither.”
Once they finally pull apart, Clancy reaches further up and starts twirling a strand of the Torchbearer’s hair around his finger. “Can you stay in here tonight?” he asks, although he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.
“Absolutely,” the Torchbearer smiles, using his fingers to draw absentminded shapes on Clancy’s pant leg.
Suddenly, Clancy’s head snaps to the side as he hears a slight crack. Without thinking, he grabs the Torchbearer’s shirt sleeve, his breathing picking up pace. He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.
“It’s okay, Clance. That was my hand on the tent floor,” the Torchbearer says calmly. He repeats his motion again, this time where Clancy can see it. Sure enough, it’s the same noise. Clancy sighs.
“Okay. I just get scared sometimes.”
“Come here.” The Torchbearer sits up on Clancy’s cot, letting Clancy sink into his arms. He gently rubs his back, waiting for his breathing to slow.
A few minutes later, Clancy is fast asleep.