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One week. It had been one week since Clancy became a bishop. Or maybe it had been a month. Time became harder to track after that day.
The fire snapped softly in front of him. It was the loudest thing during these long, lonely nights. This was where he spent his most of his time, nowadays, because he couldn’t bear to sleep. Why? Because his brain was a traitor. Every time he let his eyes close, he’d get whisked off to a fantasy world where he was still with him, and they were travelling together. He would still be sitting by his side; maybe not talking, but that comfortable silence he grew so accustomed to would be settled over the pair. Once upon a time, Torch used to love that silence.
But now? That silence haunts him with what could have been.
Nico’s gone forever… but Clancy replaced him. His Clancy. He couldn’t break the cycle; he knew it was inevitable, but fuck, he thought this one would be different… he meant it when he said that he truly liked this Clancy. Maybe just a little more than the many that came before him.
Torch sighed quietly, his mind beginning to wander. Slowly, the crickets’ chirping and the fire’s whispers started to drift away. Maybe it was foolish of him to hope that this time would be different. To hope that Clancy would stay, that he wouldn’t turn into the thing he fought against most. But he just couldn’t help himself; he grew attached.
“Clancy?” His voice started one night, carefully approaching him from behind.
At the mention of his name, his sharp eyes shifted from the crackling fire to Torchbearer’s gaze. For once, his cat-eared balaclava wasn’t on, so he could make out the features of his face.
“What were you going to do after all of this? If we win?” He sat beside him, fingertips brushing against each other’s. “You wouldn’t go back to Dema, would you?”
“Never,” For a moment, Torch thought he spotted a small smile creep across his lips. A rare sight, one that Clancy would never admit to happening. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do after all of this. I haven’t really thought that far ahead…”
“Well… how about going with me?” Clancy’s head shot up, his hazel eyes meeting his own brown ones. “Just to travel around Trench. I know you haven’t gotten out of Dema much…”
“...sure. That sounds… nice,” For the first time since he’d known him, the tension lessened in Clancy’s shoulders. “With the other Banditos? Or just… us?”
“...you and I. If you want that?” A hint of hesitation slipped into Torch’s voice.
He watched Clancy mull it over in his head, before finally, Clancy looked up and smiled. Just a little. But nonetheless, it never failed to capture his heart.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
Torch groaned quietly at the memory and ran a hand harshly through his hair.
A senseless, stupid promise; one that would have never come true, but he’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t a beacon of hope in that dark point in time. Something to look forward to, something to fight for; a future for him and Clancy to travel together. He would’ve shown him the lush green grass, the towering canopies of trees dotted over a vibrant green landscape. Torch would have killed to see the amazement in Clancy’s eyes.
There were times at night, where he’d stare distantly at the tower where it all went down, wondering if he thought about him too.
Of course, he knew he didn’t.
Because that wasn’t his Clancy up there anymore.
He sighed quietly to himself, his head in his hands. He had spent every waking minute without him doing his best not to think about the past; it was his role to look forward, to know what to do next, and what the Banditos’ next move should be. Realistically, he knew that he should try again; that another Clancy would come around, then the cycle would start all over again.
But the thing that stung was that it wouldn’t be his Clancy.
This Clancy… he felt something special with him. Something that he hadn’t felt in a long time, long enough to the point where he thought that he could never harbour those feelings ever again. But with him? Everything was possible. The days that once blurred together had since lightened up. Clancy would always brighten his day, even if it was just by existing next to him.
But now… everything was blurring together again. He doesn’t know how long it had been since everything went down.
Torch had always been a man of a few words, but he’d become a silent poet with all of this thinking he’d been doing. His feelings were all muddled up; he didn’t know how to express them, or how he felt, so he shoved everything down. Tried to stay strong. Tried to keep being a leader.
But God, it’s hard.
It was silly, really. Why was he grieving someone he was never even with? He’d spent all this time mourning the loss of Clancy as if they were… more than friends. And it wasn’t like he was dead - at least, not directly. Clancy was still out there, but it wasn’t the Clancy he knew anymore.
So why mourn someone who no longer existed?
That was what Torch kept telling himself. Over and over again. And every word of it was complete bullshit.
Deep down, Torch knew the truth. He wanted more than friendship. He wanted Clancy. He’d wanted him from the moment they met. But now… he couldn’t go any further. Because Clancy - his Clancy - was gone.
And somehow, that hurt even more than death. Because Clancy wasn’t dead. He was just unreachable. Forever out of Torch’s grasp.
Torch idly poked at the fire in front of him with a branch, watching the flames crackle before his eyes. Ideally, he’d be out on patrol, guarding the camp on his own… but for whatever reason, the other banditos insisted that he take it easy for a while. He tried to protest and tell them that he was fine, that he could do this, that nothing was wrong and that he was fine, but they seemed oddly stubborn. He supposed that that stubbornness could be a good trait at the right time, but it was the last thing he needed.
He couldn’t understand why the others kept laying him off; Torch was the leader. He was expected to carry everything on his shoulders and stay strong. It was what he was used to. And sitting here, idle and helpless… it felt so goddamn wrong. But maybe… just maybe, the banditos could see something he couldn’t. Or rather, something he didn’t want to see.
Perhaps it was a good thing that they didn’t allow him to guard the camp… because that was one of the other many places that he used to have quiet talks with him.
“Torch,” Clancy spoke up one night during their night shift of guarding the camp. Everyone was sleeping, so no one was out there to hear them. “Do you really think we’ll make it?”
“Make what?”
“Make it out of the cycle. Do you think I’ll be able to escape Dema? Permanently?”
Torch’s gaze shifted towards the other man, whose eyes seemed to suddenly find the texture of the dirt beneath his boots very interesting. As usual, he had an unreadable look on his face, but he looked more tense than he normally did.
“What if we don’t make it?” A slight tremble crept its way to Clancy’s gloved hands. “What if I’m just… doomed to go back there…?”
“I think you’ll make it, Clancy. I really, truly do.”
“You believe in me too much, Torch.” He murmured quietly, almost offhandedly. The remark was so quiet that Torch almost didn’t catch it. “Too much.”
“But not enough for you to believe it.” Carefully, he grasped Clancy’s shaky hand. The man’s eyes met his. “We’re gonna get you out of this… we’ll break the cycle. And after everything calms down, you and me, we’ll go around Trench.”
“And you… really wanna go and travel around Trench? Alone? With me?” He pointed a finger at himself, his head cocked to the side.
“Yeah,” Torch smiled. “I… I’d really like to.”
“Okay… okay.” He murmured quietly in response, his shoulders sagging a little. “...why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to go with me?
“Oh,” Torch’s face reddened slightly. “Um.” God, think of an excuse! This isn’t the time to ask him out! “I know that you haven’t seen much of what’s outside of Dema, apart from the bandito camp… I’ve heard that Trench is really nice, and it sucks that you haven’t seen much of it, so…”
Torch dared to glance over at the man beside him, attempting to gauge his reaction. His face was a little red, and he shifted his feet a little. “...you’re a very sweet person, Torchbearer.” He mumbled softly.
Well, better than being friendzoned, Torch couldn’t help but think. Not that this was the time to entertain thoughts of a life after all of this… that’s for later. And maybe for his dreams when he couldn’t sleep.
“...but yeah. After we defeat Nico, we can go and explore Trench. Together.” Clancy looked back at him, a beautiful shade of red spreading across his cheeks. “Just you and I.”
Torch offered a small smile back, doing his best to stifle the butterflies running rampant in his stomach.
The sound of footsteps came into earshot, and Torch dropped Clancy’s hand. He didn’t get the chance to mourn the loss of Clancy’s warmth before the sight of a pair of torches became visible. Torch relaxed a little. Two Banditos approached the pair, one of them waving a friendly torch-free hand.
“Time to switch?” He properly turned around the face the two new faces. The first Bandito - a slender girl with a chunky green jacket and the yellow tape wrapped around her bicep - nodded. The second one, the one that waved before, smiled. He was a taller guy; a bit lanky, but good with his weapons when needed.
“Yup! We’re your relievers. You and Clancy can retire for the night.” He smiled.
“You guys get some rest…” The first Bandito gave a small nod. “We’ll take it from here.”
After exchanging small pleasantries, the pair walked off, leaving the other Banditos to take their places. A comfortable silence settled amongst the two before Torch spoke up.
“So… should I be expecting you to sneak into my tent again?” He hid the hint of a smile underneath his bandana. A small hue bloomed across Clancy’s cheeks, and he lightly swat at his bicep. “So… that’s a yes, and I should make room for a spare sleeping bag. Got it.”
He responded with a mere “tsk” and walked faster towards the tents, resulting in a quiet laugh beginning to bubble up from Torch’s throat. Clancy always was the more feisty out of the two, at times.
Oh, Clancy… how I adore you. The thought was a mere handful of words… but they had never rung more true.
He wanted to build a future, a future just for the two of them, together. It was what he aimed for, what he strived for.
But fate is cruel… and Clancy slipped right through his fingers.
“Maybe in another life,” He whispers quietly into the night. “Maybe in another life… you would’ve made it. We would’ve broken the cycle together… and we’d be travelling around Trench together. I would’ve shown you how green the grass could be on the other side… and… maybe we could’ve been…”
…more than just friends.
He let the words die on his tongue. To say them out loud made then more real, and God, Torch didn’t think he was ready to face a truth that harsh just yet. Burdened by the weight of the words left unsaid, Torch retreated back to his tent. He tried his best not to think about the person that could’ve been by his side, or the person that he’d shuffle over for so he could lie next to him. His body, forever unfaithful, dragged him back to his dreams the moment his head hit his sleeping bag.
That night, Torch dreamed of a future where Clancy wandered through the luscious fields with him, his hand intertwined with his own and the comfortable silence he ached for settled amongst them.
And God… what he’d do to live there forever, and never wake up.