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It wasn’t uncommon for Banditos to get sick, when there was nothing but tent canvas to protect them from harsh winters. And this past winter had been the harshest yet, unprecedented snowstorms extinguishing their torches and threatening their whole existence. But they’d made it through, just barely.
Many of the Banditos had come down with colds near the end of the winter, their peers picking up the slack around camp to take care of them. That was only for the ones who admitted it.
Torch was sick, everyone could tell. But no one could convince him to rest. Even Clancy, his best friend and life partner, tried and failed to make him admit it.
It took Torch stumbling to the ground after trying to get up one morning for him to admit that maybe, just maybe, he needed to rest. He hit the ground roughly, barely bracing himself for the impact. The noise had woken Clancy, who’d rushed to his side in worry.
“Torch, hey, come on. Back to bed.” He tried to keep his tone casual, and not make Torch feel bad for needing the help.
“‘M fine, ‘m fine.” Torch batted his hands away, and tried to stand again. He swayed, and stumbled forward, right into Clancy’s waiting arms. As Torch crashed into him, Clancy became acutely aware of just how warm his skin was.
“No, you absolutely are not. Bed. Now.” Torch leaned on him heavily, and began coughing violently. He doubled over, almost slipping from Clancy’s hold.
“‘M almost better, swear.” He mumbled, letting Clancy lead him back to bed.
“Your cough is getting better, but I think you have a fever, Torchie.”
Clancy set him down gently on the bed, and pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was hot, far too hot, even beyond his usual warmth. Sweat had gathered on his forehead, and his face was pale.
“I’m going to go get a few things, but you definitely have a fever.”
Torch sat up, and mumbled something under his breath.
“No arguments. Lie down. I’ll be right back, promise.” He pressed his hand firmly into Torch’s chest, pushing him back onto the pillow.
Clancy stole a last look at him, before heading to the Bandito healer for advice.
||-//
When Clancy re-entered the tent, Torch looked significantly worse, his face entirely drained of colour and his hair soaked with sweat. He looked up at Clancy, a pained look on his face.
“Hey.” He whispered, setting down what he’d been given, and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sorry I took so long. Healer’s too busy to come in now, but I’ve got a bunch of stuff here that should help.”
Clancy pressed a water bottle into his shaky hands. “You gotta drink, okay? Water will help. I have a few painkillers too, do you have a headache?”
Torch nodded stiffly. “Okay, you can take these too.”
He watched as Torch swallowed the pills, and patted his head when he finished.
“Good.”
Clancy poured some water into a wooden bowl and soaked an old cloth in it. He gently pressed the cloth to Torch’s forehead, hearing a soft groan as he leaned into the cool material. Clancy carefully wiped away the sweat, and tried his best to cool him down. He set the cloth down, leaving it to cool Torch’s face.
“Feeling a little better?” He whispered. Torch’s eyes wandered the tent before settling on him.
“Mmm. ThankyouClance.” He slurred out.
“It’s fine. You need to rest. I’ll stay right here,” he took Torch’s hand. “But you need to rest.”
||-//
Torch slept fitfully, his body felt like it was on fire. And not the pleasant, campfire way. More the burned alive way. He shivered. It felt like hours had passed as he tossed and turned, his mind filling with disconnected thoughts from his childhood.
He could remember being a teen at the camp, when he’d gotten sick like this. He’d cried himself to sleep from the pain, but refused help from the others. It was only the Torchbearer that he’d trusted, the only one he’d let see his suffering.
The Torchbearer had seen his suffering in all its many forms.
||-//
“‘Lance, it hurts.”
Clancy hadn’t been sleeping, but the sudden sound still caught him off guard. He jumped, and turned to Torch, wide eyes pleading for help.
“Thought you were sleeping.” He moved to sit on the side of the bed, stroking Torch’s hair. He whined into the touch.
“I’m serious, Torchie, you just have to rest.”
“Hurts. Hasn’t hurt this bad since…” Torch was visibly trying to regain control over his slurred words. “Don’t matter.”
“Since what, love?” Torch’s eyes landed lazily on Clancy, only just focused.
“Since surgery. Don’ worry, I wanted it. Only good thingtheyeverdid.” He trailed off, slurring his words together.
“I don’t understand.” Clancy kept his hands in Torch’s hair, stroking through his curls, curiosity getting the better of him.
Torch sat up abruptly. He would have fallen straight back onto his pillow if Clancy hadn’t been there to catch him, steadying him upright. Torch batted his hands away, and lifted his shirt over his head.
“What are you-“ He trailed off as Torch took one of his hands and pressed it to his chest, tracing it along a faint scar.
“It hurt. But it was worth it.” Torch guided his other hand to an identical scar on the other side of his chest.
“Never told you. Scared.”
“I… Scared of what, Torchie? You know I love you, no matter what.”
Torch smiled wearily, then folded forward, suddenly unable to stay upright.
“Woah, hey, I got you.”
Clancy lowered him gently back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up to his chest. His hands lingered there for a moment, as Torch’s breathing evened out. His skin was warm under Clancy’s fingers, as he stroked up and down the scars.
“Beautiful.” He whispered to himself.
||-//
When Torch woke up next, Clancy had hoped his fever would have died down a little. The opposite had happened, Torch was even more erratic and confused than before.
“Whathappened?”
He pushed himself off the bed before Clancy had realised, and collapsed heavily to the ground. His head slammed into the canvas floor, and Clancy was glad there was only dirt beneath them.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Clancy knelt down beside him, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes and helping him sit up.
“Where’s my shirt? Where’s-“ Torch mumbled, shielding his chest with his arms. “Don’ look!”
Clancy averted his eyes, and found the discarded shirt on the ground, handing it over. The delirious man fumbled with the fabric, barely managing to get it over his head. He was panting, his cheeks flushed with fever.
“Torch… you don’t have to hide it. I know.”
“What? N-no, you’re not… not supposed to find out…it’s a secret…hate me if you find out.” He was rambling, not making any sense.
“Hey, I’d never hate you for that. You’re okay.” Clancy tried to be reassuring, rubbing Torch’s back. The man only grew more erratic.
“No! Not…don’t tell Clancy, please! Please don’t tell him! Please!”
“Torch. Josh. Look at me.” He positioned Torch’s face to look at him. “It’s me, it’s Clancy. And I know. But it’s okay, I don’t hate you, I promise.”
Several different emotions played across Torch’s face, ending in tears dripping down his cheeks. He gasped, and shut his eyes tight, like a child. Clancy wasn’t quite sure what to do, his own confusion had been constant. Slowly, he placed his arms around his love, and drew him close.
“It’s okay, shh. Hey, it’s okay.” He whispered into Torch’s hair, listening to the choked cries. He began coughing violently into Clancy’s chest, gasping for air around his sobs.
“Shh. Just focus on your breathing.”
“Hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart. Have some water, yeah?” Torch obediently downed the cup of water, handing it back to Clancy and sniffling.
“Good job. Let’s get back to bed now, okay?” He nodded weakly.
Clancy stood slowly, lifting Torch to his feet as gently as he could. He swore that the second they stood, Torch had gone somehow paler, and he swayed dangerously.
“ThinkIneedtositdown.” He mumbled. Clancy tightened his arms, supporting most of Torch’s weight.
“We’re almost there.” They stumbled to the bed, Torch barely making it onto the edge. “There you go, you made it.”
Clancy assumed that Torch would be fine now that he was sitting again. He was wrong. Torch suddenly went limp, head dropping to his chest and arms falling by his sides. He crumpled forward into Clancy, and probably would’ve fallen off the bed if he hadn’t been there. The simple effort of walking to the bed was too much.
“Shit, hey okay. I’ve got you.” Clancy sat beside Torch, easing his limp form back onto the pillow, holding his head so it wouldn’t fall too roughly.
He was fully out, not stirring even as Clancy moved him under the blankets and tucked them tight around him. Clancy lay down beside him, pulling him close. He studied the way Torch’s lashes fluttered, and how the paleness of his face revealed freckles he’d never seen. and drew him close.
Despite everything, he was glad Torch was resting. The man had been on the verge of losing control for far too long, and he’d been stubborn as ever, refusing Clancy’s help wherever he could.
“‘Lance…” Torch murmured weakly.
“I’m here, Torchie. Sleep. I love you.” Torch relaxed at that.
“Love you too…” he trailed off, drifting back into sleep.