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He hadn’t even had a nightmare.
If he had, maybe Clancy would be able to rationalize the flighty sense of panic that had needled its way under his skin.
At some point it must have become second nature – the way the terror would seep into his bones at the slightest inkling of danger. Sometimes that danger manifested as nothing more than a crooked thought, snowballing into something with teeth and claws and a face that reflected Clancy’s own. At some point in the night that very something had gripped Clancy’s core and twisted, leaving him to aimlessly untangle himself with trembling hands.
Torch lay in the warm space beside him, a pillar of stability in Clancy’s otherwise volatile existence. His breathing was soft and even, and Clancy tried his best to sync his own shaky breaths with Torch’s easy tempo. It worked up to a point, but each time he thought he had it under control his chest would buckle and he was put back to square one. He tried his very best to stay as quiet as possible, rasping out silent gasps as he focused his energy on not waking the man whose arm was currently looped around his back.
There was something about the darkness that invited the voices that usually resided in the periphery of Clancy’s mind to the forefront. They made themselves a home in the burning behind Clancy’s eyes and the faint prickling of his skin. The band around his wrist burned, demanding his idle thoughts roam to the sting of elastic and the tally marks of past mistakes that were eternally scratched into the walls of his skull.
Torch stirred, head lolling to the side to rest his chin on Clancy’s head. Clancy froze, breath stuttering as he let out a quiet exhale. He worried his lip between his teeth, mentally hitting himself for having disturbed Torch’s peaceful sleep. When it came to Torch, Clancy took and took and took and took. Torch already gave so much of his energy to Clancy, even when he was far from deserving of it. It was the very least he could do to make sure the Bandito leader was getting as much rest as possible.
And yet he couldn’t even seem to do that right. Torch was no stranger to Clancy’s night terrors – when Clancy would wake up gasping in the night, the memory of hands around his throat burned into the backs of his eyelids. And then there was the insomnia, when he would spend late nights tossing and turning until the day had bled into the early hours of the morning. Every time, Torch was there by his side – soothing the crease in Clancy’s brow and whispering words of reassurance into his hair as he held him tightly as a person could possibly hold another.
Back in Dema he’d been alone. And when he wasn’t, it was far worse than the solitude ever was. Cruel words and even crueler hands that molded him into a version of himself that he could hardly even recognize. He couldn’t remember a single night that didn’t end in him curled up at the end of his bed, arms wrapped above his head as he pulled roughly at the bubblegum pink hair that had made an imposter of his reflection.
When the sea beast had flooded the submarine during the Annual Assemblage of the Glorious Gone, Clancy had wanted more than anything to let the waves take him. It had seemed like a mercy – finally getting the opportunity to rest without giving the Bishops the smug satisfaction of proving themselves right. But then there was Torch, dragging him to the surface with strong hands and an even stronger resolve. He’ll never forget the way that Torch looked at him as they broke the surface of the water – eyes wild and full of fear and exhaustion and relief.
Clancy knew he never wanted Torch to have to look at him that way again.
Clancy turned onto his side, causing the cot to creak loudly beneath his shifting weight. He cringed, bringing the heel of his hand up to his forehead and knocking it against his head. God, if he could just stay still. If he could just fall asleep in the arms of his lover like he was supposed to. If he could just put to words why it was that he felt like this – or even what it was that he was feeling in the first place.
Here in camp, Clancy was safe. Here in Torch’s arms, he shouldn’t have any other cares in the world.
He was safe. He was home. So why was it that he still felt this way?
His lungs burned. His head felt like it was underwater.
He hadn’t even had a nightmare.
“Mm.. ‘Clance..?”
Torch’s voice was soft and gravelly as it cut through the silence of the tent. He shifted closer to Clancy to close the space between them from when he had turned away, a hand resting lightly on his arm. Clancy whimpered, pressing his forehead against Torch’s shoulder, torn between his shame of having disturbed the man and the all-consuming desire for comfort.
“Hey my love, what’s wrong?” Torch cooed, moving his arm up to cradle Clancy closer against his side. Clancy just shook his head, eyes wide as his words died not only in his throat but in his train of thought. He’d been asking himself that same question all night.
Everything. Everything, and absolutely nothing at all.
It was like white noise had flooded his mind and muffled his internal voice, leaving nothing behind but an overwhelming need to be held. He felt like a little kid, lacking the language and experience he needed to navigate what it meant to be alive. In its wake nothing was left but pure emotion – jumbled and wild and with nowhere to go but the slight sting at the corner of Clancy’s eyes.
“Hey… can you speak?”
Clancy pursed his lips, the confirmation sour on the tip of his tongue. He found himself stopped before the words could even leave his mouth. It was like magnets had been placed between his lips – weak enough that he could pry them apart if he absolutely needed to, but strong enough that he didn’t have the willpower in his already fragile state.
Oh. He blinked, a dazed look in his eyes. Guess not.
Torch must have seen the fear that passed over Clancy’s features, because a moment later he was looking at Clancy with a softness in his eyes that made him want to scream. “Oh Clancy,” Torch breathed, his hand coming up to cradle Clancy’s face and lightly stroking his thumb across the apple of his cheekbone. Clancy squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into the touch like a moth drawn to a flame.
“...This alright?” Torch asked, thumb stilling against his cheek. Clancy nodded frantically, the fleeting moment of stillness enough to send him into a brief panic before Torch resumed his light touch. He felt like a separate entity trapped inside the cage of his body, the rational part of him thrashing and raging against the sinew and chemicals that had developed a taste for rebellion.
“Clancy… come’ere..” Torch whispered, tender and sweet. Clancy was grateful for the lack of concern in his words. It made him feel more human. Torch opened his arms, inviting Clancy to drape himself across Torch’s bare chest. Clancy did.
Torch hugged him close, rubbing circles against his spine and pressing his cheek against Clancy’s own. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, Clance,” he murmured. Clancy choked. He wished more than anything he could tell Torch that everything was alright… that he didn’t need to worry about him.
He tried to open his mouth. All that came out was a small whimper from the back of his throat.
Torch simply hugged him tighter.
When Clancy was alone he could be numb. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t articulate the way it felt like the air had been stripped from his lungs, or how forming a cohesive thought felt like grasping into the darkness. He could simply lay with his back pressed against the tent floor, focusing on the way the lantern hung from the ceiling and languidly swayed back and forth to the tempo of some yet unwritten song.
Being with Torch felt like putting on glasses. The whole world came into clarity, but it made him all the more aware of the ugly parts of himself that he could usually ignore. The cracks in his walls were no longer blurred to the point of being invisible. No – now they were the most obvious things about him, and it was the person he loved most in this world who was given the clearest view.
It was mortifying and vulnerable, and some days Clancy still felt the urge to hide away – to never let anybody else see his scars. Some days he just wanted to disappear to some far away place where he could never be found – run off into the woods and build himself a new life separate from everyone he’d ever known. Some days he missed the isolation of his cell in Dema.
And yet… who was he without Torch? Without him, he may as well fall apart entirely.
Clancy was a pendulum, swinging between states of being without any reason or care. In one moment he could feel like the luckiest person in the world – unadulterated joy coursing through him as he went through the paces of life side by side with his soulmate. In the next it would feel like the world was crumbling beneath his feet, and no matter how much he clawed and scratched and cried out for help, he still couldn’t prevent himself from being swallowed whole. It’s a funny thing – feeling like a prisoner trapped inside your own brain. The worst part was that no matter how self-aware Clancy may be, there was never anything that could keep the pendulum from swinging back.
Except for this:
Torch, clutching Clancy to his chest and tracing shapes across his spine. Torch, whispering praise and reassurance into the stillness of the night as Clancy’s broken sobs continued to wrack his body. Torch, pressing the softest kiss to Clancy’s temple as he lifted his head to meet Torch’s gentle gaze.
“Hey, did I ever tell you about this squirrel I saw earlier today?” Clancy blinked, watching as a smile crept its way into Torch’s eyes and caused them to crinkle at the corners. Clancy shook his head, enamored by the way his honey-brown irises sparkled when he tilted his head. Torch grinned, squeezing Clancy’s hand before launching into a story.
“Okay, so I was walking in the woods this morning, and…”
God. Clancy could not be more in love with him. Even in Clancy’s most unreadable state, Torch always seemed to know just what to do.
Clancy let Torch’s soft baritone wash over him as he nuzzled his face closer to his chest, reveling in the way he could feel the vibrations of his voice against his skin. He sighed, allowing Torch’s words to quiet the raging static in his head. Eventually the magnets between his lips loosened ever so slightly, and gentle giggles were spilling from between his lips as Torch regalled him with the tale of his dramatic stand-off with a particularly angry mother squirrel. He even had some scratch marks to prove it.
“...and that was my life lesson for the day. Don’t make kissy faces at baby squirrels unless you want to get your world rocked, I guess.”
Upon seeing the grin that had spread across Clancy’s face, Torch returned the favor with a small, tender smile. Something caught in Clancy’s throat at the sight, and he was unable to fight back the urge to affectionately bump his head against the bottom of Torch’s chin. He may not be able to speak, but he could still express his fondness for the man in other ways.
Torch chuckled, playfully nudging Clancy away and earning a grumpy huff in return. “You’re just like a cat, you know that?” Clancy scowled, sticking his tongue out in a mock-pout. Torch ruffled his hair playfully, and Clancy couldn't help but lean into the touch. He could tell by the way that Torch snorted that he wasn’t helping his case.
Eventually the silence settled back over them, and based on the way Torch’s breathing evened out Clancy could tell that he was beginning to drift back to sleep. The hand that had been lightly stroking his back eventually stilled, and Clancy was left without the lifeline of distraction that he had been clinging to. He tried his best to focus on the steady thrum of Torch’s heartbeat instead.
When the static inevitably returned, it crashed over him with a force that nearly knocked the wind from his chest. He gasped, biting his lip between his teeth with such a force that he drew the tiniest bit of blood. If nothing else, the taste of iron on his tongue served as a welcome enough distraction. He squirmed, bringing his wrist to his mouth to bite down on the flesh, trying his very best to stifle the ragged breaths that were once again shattering the peaceful quiet of Torch’s tent.
“Clancy…” Torch whispered, squeezing the man tightly against his chest as he resumed stroking his thumb against his back. Clancy whimpered. He’d woken him up – again. All for nothing. All for absolutely nothing at all.
Clancy gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth as he tested the strength of the magnets between his lips. He had just enough strength to say what had been running through his mind all night.
“M’sorry,” Clancy sobbed, doing everything in his power to choke back the tears that were rapidly welling up in his eyes once again. “Sorry sorry sorry m’sorry.” Torch frowned, threading his hand through Clancy’s hair and using a finger to tilt Clancy’s chin up towards Torch’s face.
“Oh my love,” Torch breathed, cutting off Clancy’s mantra as he pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Clancy shook his head. There was everything to be sorry for. Tomorrow Torch would wake up sleep deprived and exhausted, and Clancy wouldn’t even have a good excuse to explain himself. Torch gave and gave and gave and Clancy just couldn’t stop taking.
Torch frowned, cradling Clancy’s cheek in his hand. It was as if he could sense the storm raging inside Clancy’s head – like it was nothing more than second nature to him. “Hey…” he murmured softly, forcing Clancy to look at him. “Did you know there’s nowhere else I would rather be right now? There’s nothing else I would rather be doing than holding you in my arms.”
Clancy’s head went blank, the words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He sputtered. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe him. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already heard Torch say this very thing hundreds of times before. But something about hearing it in this moment made something in his chest blossom with warmth.
“I love you so much,” Clancy choked, melting even further into Torch’s chest. “God I just… I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.” Torch grinned, tongue poking out between his teeth in that overwhelmingly endearing way that Clancy loved. “You’re stuck with me, ‘Clance.” Clancy sniffled, smiling against Torch’s skin as the reassurance washed over him. Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily, either.
Torch brought his hand to the small of Clancy’s back, causing Clancy to shiver as his warm fingers trailed up beneath his shirt. “Here, breathe with me for a little bit, okay?” Torch whispered. Clancy nodded weakly. “Okay, ready? Start when I start…”
Maybe he’d never be able to control the darkness that would creep up on him time and time again. Maybe the pendulum would continue to swing, and the thing in his head would continue to rage and weep in the dead of night. Maybe one of these days he’d end up back in Dema, dreaming of this very moment and promising to himself that he would do everything in his power to have it again. But for now… for now he was in Torch’s arms.
For now everything was going to be alright.
Tomorrow the sun would rise, and he would wake up with Torch by his side – with messy curls and gentle eyes as he was bathed in the glow of morning light. He would get out of bed and pull on the sweatshirt he’d stolen from Torch all those months ago, and he would walk into camp and help out where he could.
Tomorrow was another day, and he would try again.