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Branzy… had a problem.
Look, Lifesteal had awakened a lot of things in him. Maybe some of those things had been there already, but the constant environment of death and slaughter was definitely affecting him in some way.
He’d killed before. He’d lied before, betrayed people before. This was just that dialled up to the max, and Branzy liked pushing limits. It was all exciting, not entirely new, but a different sort of danger to play with.
He was sure he’d never been this obsessed before, though.
Branzy rolled onto his back, groaning softly even as a smile tugged at his lips. This was a stupid, exposed place to be. But he’d wanted to go somewhere, to think in peace. Because thinking had gotten a lot more fun recently.
Clown was in his thoughts. Branzy could imagine whatever he wanted, sheltered by his own mind, live out a fantasy he’d never really get with the server’s deadliest player. But he could dream. And he could lie in the grass, far away from any allies or enemies or anyone, and pretend to be happy.
This was probably what love felt like. Branzy wasn’t the most familiar, but it felt right. He caught glimpses of Clown, around the server, and that was his mind gone for the day. If someone said something Clown had once said to him, Branzy had that on loop for the next week.
He only wished he could be a little closer to him. It was tricky, being in such a disadvantaged position, with this sort of need inside him. He couldn’t trick Clown. Didn’t have the reputation necessary to lure him to a game. Branzy was stuck, daydreaming about someone he just couldn’t have.
Maybe this wasn’t love. Branzy imagined kissing Clown, but all he could think about would be how much Clown would have to trust him to take his mask off. How close they’d have to be. That was what mattered. Branzy wanted close. He wanted to know where Clown was, every second of every day, and be next to him, all the time.
Clown made him feel happy. It sounded silly, and Branzy felt a bit ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny how his skin warmed up whenever he saw his jester. His. Branzy had no claim over him, really, but that didn’t change his head. It was all from inside him. It all felt warm, whenever he thought about it.
But it hurt. It hurt, a little, more than a little, to be so far. Branzy had been close to Clown once—once—and he still hadn’t been able to engineer it again. He was going to go insane if he didn’t get it again.
It was so warm. An unnamable sensation, not love, but almost, beating alongside his heart, twisting down his arms until Branzy wanted to touch Clown, hold his hand, share this warmth he’d been given.
But Clown never even had a reason to look at him. And Branzy wanted to hide from everything, until he worked out a way to get that same high he’d gotten in the End portal room, before everything had gone wrong. Clown probably thought he was weak, and useless, after that fight, and it felt awful.
Bad thoughts. Branzy slapped himself, mentally, trying to wrench his head away from the despondency of reality, and go back to what he’d come all the way out here for, to feel the sun go down and imagine watching it with his favourite person.
That was a good phrase. Clown was Branzy’s favourite. That was good, it made him feel a little in control, and it said love in a way that didn’t mean love. It had that possessiveness, too, and no one could judge him for something only inside his head. No one could call him weird, or clingy, like how he’d been with Rek.
Oh, Rek. Branzy almost felt sorry for him. Rek was supposed to be his best friend, but he felt like nothing, compared to this. Branzy had always been bad at friendship. Honestly, he’d hated Rek, most days, with his bright smile and excitable personality and undeniable skill. He’d nodded, and smiled, because Rek meant stability, and Branzy was sure that meant love, in some abstract way.
It all came back to love. Branzy loved Rek. He loved Rek because he was easy to play with, because he could make him cry, but he didn’t, because he saw Rek as he truly was. Sweet, mischievous, risk-taking and cautious at once. Branzy could manipulate that, make Rek happy or sad or maybe it was all in his head.
Branzy really did like Rek. Not as much as he liked Clown, though. Where Rek was amusingly flawed, Clown was perfect. Branzy couldn’t think of a single thing about Clown he didn’t like, except how little it seemed other people should like him, and that was fine too. Branzy wouldn’t mind, if he was the only person in the world who liked Clown.
If he tried, he could imagine Clown here now. Branzy had to be careful, he didn’t want romance, he didn’t want sex, not this time. He just wanted to pretend his favourite person was sitting in the grass beside him, and everything was safe and warm and peaceful.
There it was. A soft, tingling sensation washed over him, making Branzy hum in a small laugh, only to himself. Fear. Oh, he was scared of Clown. He loved it, because Clown seemed to like people being scared of him, and because it made this all feel so much more special. Not like some fairytale that would never come true, but real, possible.
Branzy reached out, finding where Clown’s hand would be. They might hold hands. Or maybe Clown would take his wrist, and carve through each finger with a knife. Branzy felt the pain, white-hot and sweet, thin lines parting his skin as the phantom cut him until he bled.
That would teach him not to be scared of Clown. Branzy smiled, turning his hand over in thin air, watching in his mind’s eye as blood dripped onto the grass. Clown would get him plasters, sit with him as Branzy tried to move his hand.
Then… they’d hug, or something. Branzy’s imagination had its limits. He needed something real, needed, or the blood wouldn’t just be in his mind.
In his mind, his comm buzzed. Branzy pulled it out, feeling his heart race as he read Clown’s message. Something casual, friendly. Maybe he wanted Branzy to come to his base. Maybe he wanted Branzy to come back, that he’d wandered off and he was missed. He was missed.
In the grass, Branzy rubbed his eyes furiously, something lodged in his throat. No one would miss him, if he stayed out here a little longer. Not his silent comm, not the team who barely knew his name, not even his favourite person, halfway across the server with a real life that didn’t even involve him.
But… maybe Clown would miss him. Maybe Clown had noticed him too. Branzy wasn’t even sure what it was, that was so alluring about this flavour of danger. Something impossible, something no one expected him to even dare to want.
Clown’s knife trailed down his neck, coming to rest over his heart, and Branzy sighed.
It was only a dream.
He had work to do.
——————
“Whoa… this place- this place is awesome.”
“Glad you like it, BranzyCraft.”
Clown’s voice. It made Branzy feel like swooning, every time, every time he heard his own name in that soft, playful voice. Low, but not quite threatening, no more than he was naturally. Like Branzy was finally seeing everything he’d wanted from the inside.
Which he quite literally was, as he walked through Clown’s tent, very aware of the diamond sword held casually behind him, but even more aware that it was just him and his favourite person in here.
“C- Clown, is- is this for real? Not- not a trap, or- or anything?”
Branzy looked over his shoulder, trying not to smile like an idiot, or cry. Or both. This felt way too perfect. Like being summoned by the stars themselves, given his own light and a place to belong. Like coming to the centre of a storm, and knowing it would protect him from the dangers outside.
Clown tilted his head, in the way that Branzy was still so weak for, and nothing could ever go wrong, ever.
“Depends, Branzy. Are you planning to disappoint me?”
Branzy had changed his mind about kissing Clown. He was already close, he wanted to be so much closer, know what he tasted like from the inside. He wanted Clown to be able to taste how much Branzy needed this, he wanted to taste blood and not be quite sure whose it was.
“N- no, of- of course not, Clown!” Branzy mocked being offended, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Do- do I look like I have a- death wish?”
No response. Branzy’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe he’d said the wrong thing.
“W- well? Do I?”
“Maybe.”
Branzy didn’t like that. Clown sounded short, if amused, and he was still worried he’d done something wrong. His breathing was getting shorter to match, panic building, but he could hold it back, just about.
“H- hey, don’t- don’t say that, it- it sounds like you’re going to- to betray me.”
That got him a sharp look, and Branzy felt like he’d really prefer Clown to just stab him when he messed up, actually. He messed up so often, it was painful, seeing how clumsy he was compared to his favourite person.
“I’d never.” Clown’s voice softened, and his accent got a little stronger, before he laughed gently. “Not before you’ve done this for me.”
Better. Branzy felt his body relax, and laughed in return, a terrified thing that Clown seemed to like. It was terrifying, honestly, how much about him Clown seemed to like. Branzy wasn’t a very likeable person. He just convinced people he was, cobbled together distractions from whatever was wrong with him, and now he felt like his guard was the most down it had ever been, and Clown still looked at him like he cared.
He should tell Clown. Right now. Branzy should tell him how much this meant to him, and Clown wouldn’t even find it weird. This was the server for freaks with attachment issues. He wouldn’t even look at Branzy like a kicked puppy that didn’t know it had rabies, he wouldn’t even say that what he both did and didn’t call love was twisted in anyone else’s world.
But the silence stretched too long, and Branzy didn’t want to ruin this, not for either of them.
“…Ok, and I guess that’s the end of that conversation. Come on, Branzy. You look like you want to kiss me.”
Branzy blinked, startled back to the moment. Kissing. That was a thing he’d been thinking about. Had Clown just offered to kiss him?
“Uh- mhm?”
Definitely the most intelligent thing that had come out of his mouth, ever. Branzy was so glad Clown seemed to like wounded puppy energy.
Clown looked at him, head cocked like he’d said something strange, and the ice had resumed its steady descent down Branzy’s spine.
“That… wasn’t an offer. Follow me.”
And he hated himself. Branzy felt his cheeks glowing, and all the warmth was in his face, because his chest was cold as ice with a sudden rush of freezing not-quite-guilt. Clown had gone cold, so he was too, and it all felt awful again.
Branzy followed, because there was nothing else to do, because he needed to know how to apologise to Clown before he inevitably pissed him off for real.
Clown walked the same, always. Like a dancer, silently, on the balls of his feet first, flighty like he was ready to run. Every part of him was controlled. His sword was in one hand, and he ran his other hand up and down the blade. Always doing something. It was captivating, like watching a thousand different parts of a machine tick back and forth.
Branzy adored it. He still felt terrible, but he’d do anything to make it up to Clown. As long as he got to carry on seeing this, the way Clown adjusted his mask slightly one way, then another, like a compulsion. It might be a compulsion.
“Here.”
There was nothing here. Branzy hesitated, but Clown was already on the ground, and for some reason his body was following without his input. Ground time was fun. He could have fun here.
Then Clown was placing a blueprint, and it made sense now. Branzy felt stupid, sometimes, around here. Really stupid. Of course Clown wouldn’t have built anything already, that was what he was here for.
“You’re obedient, right, Branzy?”
Clowns eyes were on him. Branzy was certain of it. He could feel it, despite his mask, and it made him glow inside to feel like he knew Clown like that.
“M- mhm. For- for you.”
A small hum, almost approving, and Branzy was floating. Clown was asking him easy questions, and he was giving good answers. This was so easy. Even if he was stupid, it was already slipping out of his mind, because Clown was such a good distraction from everything.
“Good. Look at this.” Clown pointed to a spot on the blueprints, and Branzy looked, even as he saw his partner move away in the corner of his eye. “And… stay still.”
Silk-gloved fingers traced down the back of his head, and Branzy had never been more delighted with himself. This was good, he’d been right, Clown was perfect for him. Someone who could actually tell him what to do, maybe even forgive him, once or twice, if he messed up.
Clown’s hand settled on the back of his neck, holding him gently in place, and Branzy could hear himself breathing. He could die right now. That was very much a possibility. He was on his knees, in a dim tent, and no one would ever come to save him.
“You… like me, don’t you, Branzy?”
As Clown’s free hand carded through his hair, Branzy tried to recover his ability to breathe. This was a really important question, one he really wanted to get right.
“M- mhm. Can- can I talk?”
“Yeah.”
“I- I like you, yeah.” He’d be a fool not to, when Clown was currently holding him like a dog, and Branzy was staring at this blueprint like it could defend him, in any way. “You- you’re protecting me! So- that- that’s nice.”
“I’m not protecting you. I’m controlling you. Get it right, Branzy.” There was something in Clown’s voice, something flat, like this was purely business. Or like Clown was hiding something. “You shouldn’t like me.”
“W- why not?”
Branzy tried not to let his voice crack, he really did, but he was a little scared out of his mind right now, a little focused on how it would feel for Clown to break his neck. Pretty good, probably. He’d have to have his hands on either side of Branzy’s head, and he’d probably do it fast, maybe even painlessly.
“…Because I’m me, Branzy.” Sighing, Clown moved away, removing his hands from Branzy entirely. “I just… need you to know what you’re getting into. No one around here really likes me.”
There was a pause. Branzy’s heart was in his throat, because this didn’t feel right. Everyone liked Clown. Or- maybe they didn’t like him. Too much fear of death, or betrayal, or getting caught up in his rivalries. But Branzy liked him!
“I… I don’t know why I said that.” Clown laughed, a small, nervous thing that seemed to catch both of them off guard. “Just don’t go around trusting me, ok, BranzyCraft?”
“No, wait- w- why don’t people like you?” Branzy shifted, turning around a little, hoping it was safe to look at Clown. “If- if you want to say.”
Clown didn’t look like he wanted to say. He looked like a street cat caught in a searchlight, frozen in place and hackles raised defensively.
“I’m just… me, Branzy. Don’t worry about it.”
“Clown…”
Branzy was gambling here. He really, really hoped Clown was willing to talk to him about this. If he wasn’t, then Branzy was being pushy, way too pushy, and he’d probably come off clingy and unbearable.
But he sort of seemed like he was. Branzy wasn’t going too far, was just asking, with a slight whine he thought Clown might appreciate. He was still on his knees, hands on his thighs as he sat back on his heels in the grass.
Clown looked at him, really looked at him, and Branzy felt the full heat of his partner’s stare burning through him. It felt like being examined under a laser microscope, taken apart and reduced to every way he could be a risk.
“…Branzy, I- no. Never mind. No.”
“Clown, please.” Branzy swallowed, fingers curling into his knees. “I- I’ll be ok. I’ll still like you.”
That felt right. That had definitely been the right thing to say, judging by how Clown relaxed a little.
“People just… don’t like me.” Voice dropping, Clown adjusted himself, crossing his legs awkwardly as he stared at the ground. “Think I’ll kill them. I… normally do. If you… talk about this, Branzy, I will kill you.”
Branzy nodded. He understood. He didn’t have anyone else to tell, and he wouldn’t even if he did. He just wanted to carry on hearing Clown talk to him like this, trust him like this.
“Don’t like people either. I don’t, that is. They’re… annoying.” Clown’s voice twisted, and so did his hand, twitching upwards for half a second. “Branzy, you’re the first person I’ve met who I don’t want to tear your guts out. Which is more impressive than you’d like to think.”
Honestly, Branzy was almost disappointed. Not disappointed in Clown, Clown was everything he’d hoped for and Branzy was delightedly grateful to be here, for his partner. But he wouldn’t mind Clown eviscerating his insides, maybe once.
“That- yeah, that’s impressive.”
Another risk. Branzy held out his hand, a little shyly, just as the smallest suggestion. Clown didn’t have to take it. But a lot of his dreams had already come true, so maybe his favourite person would hold his hand.
Clown didn’t even look at him. Just reached out, and clasped their hands quietly, holding on with a restrained firmness that made Branzy think he was trying not to hurt him.
“People are hard. It’s… it’s not scary, but it- it makes my head feel weird, and then I can’t hear, and…” Clown’s hand spasmed, his voice getting quieter and more vulnerable by the word. “I don’t like it. But I like you. And I don’t want to hurt you, Branzy.”
“You- you won’t.” Branzy matched his voice, keeping it soothing, trying not to vibrate with excitement. “I- I don’t mind, anyway.”
He wanted Clown. He wanted Clown to keep talking like this, to give Branzy every part of himself out of pure trust, forming a bond neither of them could ever deny.
“I hate this.” Clown pressed his mask against his face, almost like he’d forgotten it was there, and was trying to rub his eyes. “Way too much to think about. It’s… better, if people only talk to me about killing people. That’s easy.”
Branzy imagined he could feel Clown’s blood coursing through both of their hands. Their veins were stitched open, and sewn together, and they were sharing the insides of themselves with every heartbeat, circulating their blood together until it didn’t matter whose was whose.
“Do- do you want me to do that?”
If it made Clown happy.
But Clown shook his head, the tiniest bit, still stiff like he was running through a program.
“No. Not you, Branzy. I… want to trust you.”
——————
“This was so good! Clown- Clown, we did well, right? This- this is so good!”
Clown finished pulling off his armour, having been entirely impervious to Branzy’s sheer, giddy delight the whole time since he’d emerged from the cave. He was covered in dust, and Vitalasy’s blood, but he looked up, and it felt like he really was looking at Branzy like a partner.
Then, he moved, and Branzy was hit with the full force of Clown hugging him, so tightly, so close, and he might be shorter, but he had muscle on Branzy, who couldn’t help staggering, even as he made a noise between a shriek and a giggle.
“O- ok, hi, Clown, you- you’re happy, aren’t you?”
Clown nodded, and Branzy was fairly sure this was the highest peak his life would ever reach. High on the buzz of adrenaline, on his first kill on Lifesteal, proud of himself and Clown for sticking this thing through, delighted with the outcome, with how he’d proven himself to Clown, and now he got this.
“Thanks for betraying Vitalasy, Branzy.” Clown’s voice was muffled, shaking with joy or something else, but it sounded happy either way. “I’m so happy to have you. So happy.”
“Of- of course, Clown. I- I’m your partner, I’m not going to- to betray you.” Branzy was hugging Clown back, his partner’s hair in his face, and he could feel their heartbeats syncing to each other in the non-existent space between them. “You- you’re mine, Clown, I- I’m- I’m not-“
Branzy stuttered off, realising he might have said too much. He shouldn’t say that stuff. He didn’t have the position to, had no right to claim Clown to be his.
“I’m going to protect you, Branzy.” Clown didn’t even seem to have noticed, nuzzling against his shoulder, breathless and heady on delight. “We- we’re gonna kill everyone. Everyone.”
Branzy smiled, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and all he could think was how much Clown was probably going to hate him, if he knew how badly Branzy wanted to just make him happy. Did that make it any less real?
Too late, Clown pulled away, masked eyes scanning Branzy in delight. Too late for Branzy’s heart, already sinking, even as he fought to keep his smile in place. This would go wrong. It always went wrong. He’d mess up, and that would be that.
“Branzy…” Clown’s voice had dropped, and it was so hard to tell what he was feeling with that mask, so hard for Branzy to school his expression. “What’s wrong? We did good.”
Now. Now was the time to be vulnerable. If ever, now. Branzy opened his mouth, but didn’t even know what he was trying to say. What was in his head, apart from the dread that this was the happiest he’d ever be.
“Th- thank you, Clown.” Branzy blinked viciously, smiling even as his throat felt like it was shaking. “Just- just- thank you.”
Clown seemed to freeze. Maybe it was better to wreck it now, and go out on a high. Branzy was fairly sure losing this would kill him, but it would be a quicker death the faster he pulled the ragged blade back out.
“Don’t… say that, Branzy, I don’t… I don’t want to hear that, ok? We did good. That’s it. Both of us.”
Branzy nodded, quickly, feeling dizzy on a thousand things and half of them were guilt. Don’t thank Clown. That was easy. He wasn’t going to push. Not when this was perfect, all he’d ever wanted.
“O- ok. Won’t- won’t happen again.”
“…please don’t lie to me.”
That didn’t sound like Clown.
Branzy hesitated, words replaying in his head. His voice was soft, and gentle, and nowhere near scared, but with the lilting threat on the wrong words to truly be intimidating.
“Wait- do you want me to-“
“Just don’t.” Clown was back, the Clown he knew, and everything had happened so fast Branzy was dizzy and spinning as he felt like he’d fallen off the ride of his life. “We’re ending this season on twenty, BranzyCraft.”
His throat was getting tighter, but Branzy nodded. He could do that. He needed to stop overcomplicating these things, needed to stop himself from saying that he didn’t really care about twenty hearts, actually, but he’d do anything, absolutely anything, if it meant Clown hugged him again.
“Y- yeah, totally.”
Something stretched, in the brief silence. Branzy got the swooping sensation of an opportunity, one that was passing him by already, but for a moment, he could pretend he lived in a world where he was brave enough to tell Clown how much he needed him.
“Now’s… the time to tell me anything.”
Clown’s voice was careful, soft again, but Branzy had frozen like ice. Clown knew. Clown must know. Maybe he hated Branzy already, or thought he was too weird, too unnerving, too something that no one had quite explained to him. Branzy never understood why people didn’t like being cared about.
But now was his chance. And Branzy wanted to say, wanted to act on this insane impulse that maybe, just maybe, Clown wouldn’t hate him. That he could have what he wanted, for the first time, and get to keep it.
“I really- I really like you, Clown.” His voice had dropped, shaking, but Clown was listening, and it made Branzy’s stomach twist. “Like- like like, maybe, I don’t know, and- and just- please don’t- don’t hate me.”
In the end, that was all he wanted to say. Branzy stared at Clown, wide eyed and breathing too hard, and it felt useless to talk about need, or want, or desire. None of it really mattered, it didn’t matter to Clown, and all that really mattered was that he wouldn’t be disgusted by Branzy’s affection.
Clown hummed, softly, and adjusted his mask, like he was self-conscious about something. His excitement had died down, like he was trying to cover for it, now, and Branzy felt himself calming down in turn.
“We need to talk.”
No. It had been going so well. Branzy felt numb, tingling horror spread up his arms, but swallowed, and nodded. He should have seen that coming. His type of love wasn’t what anyone wanted, Clown was probably just going to tell him that no one actually cared about each other around here.
Clown started walking, and Branzy followed, because he’d follow him no matter what. He’d already alienated himself from the only other people on this server who tolerated him, and he’d done it with barely a thought, because he got Clown.
“Clown, I- I can be normal, I swear, I just- frick, Clown, please-“
Branzy’s voice broke, as Clown walked all the way to their single-room base, aside from their bedrooms, storage and medical and everything else shoved into a box large enough for both of them to stand in.
When Clown stopped, so did Branzy, although his reflexes weren’t good enough to keep him from stumbling. Another thing he was messing up today.
“Branzy.” Clown was facing him, and Branzy was paying attention, despite the awful feeling inside him. “Touching?”
“Y- yes?”
Anything. Touching sounded really good right now, actually. If Clown wanted to touch him. He probably didn’t.
With a sigh, Clown moved, and Branzy barely had time to yelp before he was against a wall, his partner’s hand next to his head, and all the blood in his body either in his ears or his cheeks.
“Branzy. Focus.”
How was he meant to do that? Branzy was fairly sure he was in a state halfway between hysteria and sheer delight, and his head was spinning either way.
“You either need to tell me what you want from me before I kill you, stop… whatever this is, or tell me something else. Understood?”
“Wh- what- what is?”
“This.” Clown’s voice was flat and furious at once, something helpless slipping just under his harsh words, like he had no good foundation. “Following me like a lost fucking puppy. It’s not good for you.”
“I- I can stop, if- if you don’t-“ Branzy couldn’t breathe right, terror in every form imaginable waiting his insides into knots. “If you don’t like it, I- I’m sorry.”
Clown’s hand shifted, in the very edge of Branzy’s periphery, far too close to his throat for any sort of comfort.
“I’m not the one who needs to know what’s good for them, Branzy.”
“You. Y- you- you’re good for me.”
If Branzy could have seen his partner’s face… honestly, he didn’t know what he would have seen. But he was glad not to be able to, as Clown froze, and he had no way to know if it was horror, shock or disgust silencing him for those few, breathless seconds.
“Branzy-“
“I- I don’t want anything, I swear, I just- I just want this, Clown, please. I can- can be normal, I can leave you alone-“ He couldn’t, but Branzy was desperate. “Please.”
“…ah.” Clown was quiet for another few seconds, long enough for Branzy to consider sliding down the wall and trying to pass out on the floor. “Just… how attached to me are you, Branzy?”
“Very, oh my god, Clown-“ Branzy could feel himself turning even redder, and he might not even need to try, he might faint right here. “Not- I don’t care, you- you can kiss me I- I really don’t care, just- just you.”
Clown was his person. Branzy felt like soulmates existed, maybe, if anything like that had ever existed. Clown made him feel alive. Like he was free, properly, no need to worry, as long as Clown was happy with him Branzy could cope with the sickening weight of being himself.
For a few, terrifying seconds, it was quiet. Branzy could pretend it was alright, that this was a normal thing to want, to want Clown so badly it got muddled in his mind, he didn’t know who was whose and if it even mattered, because this was the closest thing to heaven he was ever going to get.
“…I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t want me to.”
That? Branzy must have gone slightly still, caught off guard by the fact that Clown was thinking about that, not how fucking weird he was for all of this.
“You already have me, by the way. Anything you need.” Clown tilted his head, just enough to feel like he was smiling. “You’re mine, Branzy. Goes both ways.”
“You- you can kiss me.”
Out of sync. Nothing made sense. Branzy had slipped, slipped into a world where things were possible, and he really didn’t want to get poetic with his own awful desires, but he couldn’t help the feeling in his heart and his throat and his lips as he stared at Clown like it was the last time they’d ever see each other.
“Not… now.” Clown pulled away, a little, and awareness rushed back as Branzy remembered he had a body which he didn’t really know what to do with. “So you…”
“O- obsessive. I- I think.” Branzy stared at the floor, kicking at it, no longer sure if he wanted it to give out or not. “Sorry, I just- I really like you, and- and god, it- it sounds stupid-“
“Sounds flattering. You’re cute.”
Branzy’s head snapped up, and no, he’d been wrong about everything. This was the best experience he was ever going to get.
“Wh- what?”
There was a glowing, inside his chest, like a few words could cover a lifetime of angry scarring. Like none of Branzy’s itemised, systematically checked and proven list of reasons to hate himself mattered anymore.
And Clown was grinning. Definitely grinning, and Branzy was smiling too, laughing, in a ragged, breathless way that sounded wrong, but Clown didn’t seem to mind.
“Said you’re cute. It’s okay, Branzy. You can be obsessed with me. So long as you know what you’re doing.”
No, he was crying. Branzy was definitely crying. This was a lot, and a bit overwhelming, if he thought about any of it too much, and relief was a drug better than anything he’d had before.
Maybe, for once in his life, something could stick around.