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It had been the turn of autumn when he was rescued. Eight months ago, the door to his tower burst down again. Fire light framed the determined set of those broad shoulders, flickering with a sort of steady certainty that only his Torchbearer could carry, glinting off of bright yellow tape and wide hazel eyes. For the last time, he had been saved.
Three months later, at the edge of the hot springs, he scrubbed himself clean of the last smears of ink. It was dark, the air freezing, and he watched as a flake of know drifted slowly, slowly into the Torchbearer's drying curls. Chills tickled pleasantly at his skin. That was when he leaned in, their lips meeting in something new and familiar all at once.
Six weeks after that was "I love you." Beneath a sleeping bag, bracing himself against the foreign wind as it pressed in on all sides of their tent, he sought out warmth. Without hesitation, the Torchbearer had him enveloped. Without hesitation, he whispered the words into the chest he lay on.
Then, only twenty-two days ago, a kiss grew deep. Hands traversed uncharted skin. Fingers wrapped up in now healthy, growing hair. His jacket hit the floor, his muddied boots, his too many shirts and pants too cropped to keep the bramble from biting at his ankles. The tinkling of belt buckles shot him through with anxiety.
"You're safe," his Torchbearer had promised. "I've got you."
It was the truth. It always was. They fell into bed together, his face streaked with tears of relief and overwhelm. Thoughtfully, like worship, he was taken apart, known in a way he never had been; by the Torchbearer, because it would never be anyone else.
Tomorrow was the eighteenth of June. How he remembered, Clancy had no idea. After years of torture and mind control, it remained one of the only remnants of his past that he actually held onto: June eighteenth, the same year as himself, Joshua Dun took his first breath. Clancy's best friend - his everything - had lived another turn around Trench's sun, and Clancy was there to celebrate it with him.
Celebrate. What a strange feeling, to do such a thing. Happy for happy's sake, cheering "We did it" after years of "I'm sorry" and "I let him down". Clancy struggled to allow space for joy or assurance. Always checking over his shoulder, waiting for something to go wrong, expecting to be abandoned, finally. But this wasn't about him. This was for his Torchbearer - for Josh, because he was strong and sweet and deserving, and he always had been. A birthday was just an excuse to shower him with affection. Clancy could do that, at least.
This was how he found himself deep in the forest, sifting through leaf litter and moss in search of flowers. Yellow ones, of course. With a crease in his brow and a hand-woven basket on his arm, Clancy scrutinized every blossom, sweeping over any that were young or heavy with pollen. Of those remaining, he only harvested the brightest. Size was not important. Damage and consistency weren't factors. He picked the boldest, most blinding yellow, any whose intensity murmured, 'This is where he comes from.' Not all of them. Josh had taught him a long time ago to keep some untouched.
"She provides for us, so when we take from Her, we're careful," he had said one night, when they were twenty-somethings, already bearing too many worries and not enough dreams. "Always leave a few behind, we tell the kids. She will take what's left and turn it into abundance."
How Josh's face softened when he spoke of Trench, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the slightest smile resting on his lips - that was beautiful in its own quiet, grateful way. Clancy figured he was in love then, even if he hadn't recognized it. Now, nearly forty, he knew he was.
To have loved Josh all these years was the one thing that truly kept him afloat.
It was you all along, he thought as he plucked a lone flower from the damp ground.
Thank you, when he found another, larger one to lay in his basket.
I will give you everything, while he waited for a butterfly to finish her visit to the blooms at his feet.
And with each new addition to the thriving bouquet, he could only think, I love you.
The next morning, Clancy was up with the sun. He dressed quickly and quietly, paying close attention to the rhythm of Josh's breaths, only half-tying his shoes on the way out. In his hands, his ukulele; in his mind, a catalogue of every song he had ever written with tears in his eyes, a chest overflowing with devotion.
The scent of smoke clung stubbornly in the air outside. As he approached last night's now spent pile of tinder, a bird flitted away, leaving a cloud of down feathers in its wake. They drifted softly, silently, aimless in their fall, at the mercy of both gravity and the breeze. Summer's snowflakes, they were. He imagined dusting them out of Josh's hair just the same.
A caterpillar inched along the fallen log beside the fire pit. Clancy left it be, sitting on the other end of the makeshift bench. He crossed his legs under him in that way Josh said made him look young, like he was light and full of untapped wonder again, how he had been when they'd first met. Josh had told him all of this with the prettiest blush on his cheeks, not often one to articulate his feelings in words. Clancy's hands shook at the recollection.
He breathed deep once, twice, to compose himself. His cold fingers came to rest on even colder strings, falling into position on memory alone. He moved into a gentle warm-up: a scale lower in his range, climbing and falling; up a half step through one continuous breath, then onto the next scale; sure to adjust and smooth out the transition as he went higher. Near the end, he threw in some airy riffs, ones with no destination or purpose other than to exist. It was easy, instinctual. His throat still grew tight with the beginnings of tears.
Then, he strummed with intention.
E. B. G-sharp minor. F-sharp. He did it a few times, just to remind himself how it felt, where things sat. The original key, because he liked it best that way. It wouldn't sound right otherwise. E, B, G-sharp minor, F-sharp. Simple, some of the first chords he ever learned, used all the time. E, B, G-sharp minor, F-sharp. He let his eyes slip shut.
"You are surrounding all my surroundings…" he began, voice already fraying at the edges.
His Torchbearer always tugged at his heart like this, constricting his lungs and heating him up from the inside. It was comfortable, now. He didn't have to run.
"…sounding down the mountain range of my left side brain."
Clancy knew Josh liked that line, all its repeating vowel shapes, how they formed in his mouth. He liked it, too, for different reasons.
"You are surrounding all my surroundings," he continued, "twisting the kaleidoscope behind both of my eyes."
The next chords crunched pleasantly. He wasn't even sure what they were - he had uncovered them so long ago, before gaining any of the more technical knowledge he now held. All he knew was that they evoked pure Josh when he heard them, ever since putting them to these lyrics. He never used those chords anywhere else.
"And I'll be holding on to you."
He plucked out a few more notes, right finger and thumb working fluidly together. His left hand glided on the neck of the instrument as he moved to the next song, seamless, practiced.
"Sometimes you've gotta bleed to know that you're alive and have a soul."
The corner of his mouth quirked up at the long sound of a tent's zipper.
"But it takes someone to come around to show you how," he sang softly. "He's the tear in my heart, I'm alive; he's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire. He's the tear in my heart, take me higher than I've ever been."
When he opened his eyes, Josh was standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his bare chest. Everything about him was peaceful and tender - slow and even breaths, sweatpants hung low on his hips, eyes still half-lidded from sleep. Clancy's usually lithe fingers stuttered on the strings. A helpless little breath escaped his lips, and he felt his cheeks and core flood with heat.
With a small grin, Josh said, "I think the audience would like an encore."
Clancy couldn't help but smile back as he slid his left hand along the ukulele. He had thought extensively about what he would play for Josh once he was up, flipping through a mental list of songs for the past week or so. By last night, he realized the choice was obvious, always had been.
"You are formidable to me," the first line came, saccharine and warm.
Immediately, Josh's expression shifted. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, lips pressed into something bittersweet, eyes more open and so full of fondness Clancy almost froze again. He watched Josh's hand slowly drift inward, landing between his pecs to grasp at the dog tags that hung around his neck. They clinked against each other, somehow louder than Clancy or his uke, a sharp slice through the air between them. The music grew gentler.
"I might be cynical toward you, but I just can't believe that I'm for you."
He could hear Josh's breath hitch. The man's grip was white-knuckled where he clutched the tags, like they were the only thing keeping him on the ground. Clancy simply gazed, focus singularly on Josh, pouring his heart into this quiet performance. It was no surprise to him that tears threatened to spill the longer he went on.
"I'll follow you, but you should know…"
He couldn't look away. Josh was stepping closer each second, and Clancy couldn't take his eyes off of him, with his now parted lips and pink-flushed skin.
I love you, he was thinking; but it manifested as "Can I take you everywhere we've ever been?"
Josh knelt at his feet with a reverence that stuck somewhere in his throat, threatening to close it, to cut him off. Each strum had devolved to trembling tinks, barely there. Still, he played; still, he sang. The blush on Josh's face and down his neck was too gorgeous to risk stopping.
"I can die with you, just let me know.
Yeah, yeah, yeah - I can die with you, just let me know."
Without his permission, Clancy's breath caught. His fingers buzzed with the final note of the song, strings vibrating right beneath them, the music fading to complete silence. A passerby would think no sound had been made at all.
They stared. Not much blinking - just two sets of wide, dark, damp eyes, enraptured. Josh's glittered in the clear, young light of the morning. Even from a distance, it brought out the green streaks and specks in them. Clancy took note as if he hadn't memorized them already, tracing reflections of sunbeams, making pictures with catchlights like constellations. For all the talking Josh did about Trench's natural beauty, he must not see himself very often. His eyes alone were as vast as its skies and waters.
Then was his voice.
"Tyler," he whispered.
It was deep, sleep-worn, kind and overflowing with affection. It was everything Clancy was not.
"You told me years ago," Clancy began, hushed, "that waking up like this was one of your favorite things. I'd stayed up all night, hadn't touched my uke in weeks. You were so happy."
"Couldn't think of a better way to start my day," Josh had said, with that big squinty smile. "I like hearing you, love your voice. Best morning."
Now, he replied, "I am happy, Ty. You're— God, it's stunning. You are so—"
He interrupted himself with an airy laugh, soft and bright. That may have been more wonderful than his voice, Clancy decided, and he resolved then to hear it every day for the rest of his life. He would do anything.
"I love you. You know that?" Josh added.
Yes. I never doubted it. I'll never tire of hearing you say it, anyway.
Clancy dropped his right hand to cradle Josh's face, fingers on his stubble-prickly jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Immediately, Josh sighed into it. Their grins grew together. They did everything together, always had.
"I love you, too, J. Love you so much."
He bent down and coaxed Josh into a kiss - the first of many that morning.
The afternoon was cloudless, on just the right side of hot when the breeze passed through. Birds twittered and swooped about, sailing carelessly, sometimes landing to ask for a snack. Josh tossed them a handful of plain popcorn whenever he assumed Clancy wasn't looking. Of course, Clancy saw it every time, and had to fight a smile to keep up the ruse.
His meticulously selected bouquet, now at home in a wooden vase, sat upon a rock beside them. The midday sun made the flowers nearly impossible to look at directly, they were so brilliant. Clancy could still picture how Josh had teared up at the sight of it. Never mind the fact that his own eyes stung thinking about that moment, the embrace that followed.
Presently, they lay side-by-side, hands intertwined. Free of their jackets, the skin of their arms pressed into each other. A large tree - Clancy had no clue what kind, even after his time here - cast shade over them, protection from the otherwise unfiltered sun. Beneath them, the grass and clover were slightly wet and cool, a welcome contrast to the drier, warmer air. Only the touch and sounds of Trench could reach them here.
It was perfect.
Josh sighed and tipped his head to gaze at Clancy. And Clancy, well - he was already looking.
"Good day?" he asked with a smile.
"Mhm," Josh nodded. "Really good."
Clancy took a minute to reflect. It was a slow morning, lots of time to pay Josh the attention he so well deserved. They went into camp just before noon to have lunch with the banditos. For the first time since coming back, Clancy didn't feel suffocated by their presence, grinning back at them as they passed. He sat with Josh and they talked to Debby and Jen; a full-fledged conversation, laughing and all. The two of them left camp lighter than they had in months, hand-in-scarred-hand.
At home, they sang and slow danced, because the world wasn't ending anymore, and they could. Clancy gifted the bouquet with shaky hands, and Josh had kissed him and kissed him until his lips went numb. They swam in the creek. A joy-drunk Josh dragged Clancy by the wrist to his favorite spot nearby. When a rabbit had approached them, timid, he picked it up. Josh knew everything about that rabbit - what it ate, where it lived, when it came out of hiding. Clancy listened because he always would, especially when he was on the receiving end of that smile. He listened because he had believed not long ago that he would never hear that voice again.
"You know," Josh admitted, "I wasn't gonna make a big deal. Of my birthday, I mean."
Brow furrowed, Clancy balked, "What?"
He could see Josh scanning his face, glancing between his eyes, focus flicking briefly to his lips. Thoughts tumbled audibly in Josh's head. Or, Clancy just knew him well enough to recognize that he was overthinking.
"I don't know. I've never really celebrated, I guess. Don't think anyone even knows when it is," he said.
"I do."
Josh's face softened.
"That kinda surprised me, actually."
At that, Clancy's heart deflated. Josh expected so little, even from those who loved him. He expected nothing and deserved everything.
"Well," he posed, "do you remember mine?"
"December first," answered Josh without even a breath.
Ignoring the way his stomach flipped, Clancy asked, "Why wouldn't I remember yours, then?"
"You've been through a lot, and I know your memory has been touch and go in the past. Forgetting my birthday - that would be perfectly reasonable. It's not the most important thing."
"Not important?" Clancy parroted. "You must not understand my list of priorities, like, at all."
There it was, again: that pretty blush, so slight but just enough to emphasize the freckles on his strong nose. As if, after all this time, Josh still couldn't believe he was worthy of such a sentiment. As if Clancy wasn't the one wondering how he was worthy of living these moments.
"You've always been it for me. Hell, I remember the first year I knew you - so clueless - staying up the whole night before school, wondering if you'd like the gift I made you. The first year."
"You wrote me a song," Josh reminisced with a fuzzy smile.
"I did," Clancy chuckled, "and God, was it bad. But you loved it. Your reaction is burned into my memory. No amount of smearing or brainwashing or— anything could scrub that from my mind. Nothing."
Josh groaned, rolling to bury his face in Clancy's shoulder. It wasn't earnest; he could feel the content rumbling of a laugh.
"So yeah - an entire day just about you? We're celebrating, no question. Especially after… everything. Any chance to show you how— that I—"
An unexpected wave of emotion surged through him. His words caught in his throat, fingers squeezing Josh's with white knuckles. The sigh he let out was trembling, high, uneven. Josh lifted his head just enough to make eye contact.
"Tyler?"
Before he could think better of it, Clancy's hand was on the back of Josh's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He skipped the closed mouths, the short and sweet. No - Clancy kissed long and slow, lips opening for Josh's tongue, unoccupied hand sliding to his firm waist and kneading, legs parting to make room for him between them. It was patient and deep, full of pure want. Clancy needed it to say so much about his devotion and loyalty, to carve a hole in his chest and offer up his soul, to tell Josh everything the tears wouldn't allow to be said.
"I love you," he whispered in the spaces between. "More than anything, J. Obviously I remembered. It's 'cause I love you. Love you so much, don't ever forget it."
Josh's hold on Clancy's side released, legs slipping into place above him, not once breaking the kiss. Fingers trailed absentmindedly across his ribs, down to his belly. Clancy raked his against the taut muscles of Josh's back.
Close, nearer than necessary but somehow never enough, he heard, "I love you, too, Ty. Thank you. Today's been so good, thank you."
"Night's young," Clancy quipped, leaning up to peck Josh on the lips.
He closed his eyes and melted into it, finally resting the weight of his entire body on Clancy's. His exhale was quick and hot against Clancy's face.
"Keep this up and we may not sleep at all," Josh teased.
"Anything you want."
Already diving in for more, Josh declared, "Happy birthday to me."
He was breathtaking. Clancy had always known this. It was impossible to ignore. But under the warm light of a lantern, curls tossed artfully and lashes casting long shadows onto his high cheekbones, Josh was more stunning than anything Clancy had ever seen.
And he was undoubtedly in love.
He had been, probably for years at this point. Ever since he donned Josh's rebel yellow for the first time, maybe. It could have been on Voldsøy. Really, Clancy guessed it happened when they were kids, when they stayed awake until the chapel bells rang out across the city, when he started to question the world around him. That questioning created more than enough room for loving Josh Dun.
Maybe it was fate.
To Clancy, it was all the same. It was all inevitable in its own way, so natural it must come to pass. They were a pair so perfectly matched that they couldn't have left this life without falling for each other.
He reached across the small space between them, lifting some faded red hair from Josh's forehead with a gentle touch, one reserved only for moments like these. Even so, Josh stirred. His silver nose rings caught the light as he turned to meet Clancy's eyes.
"Hi," he mumbled.
His voice was rough and deep. Clancy wanted to drape himself in it, like a weighted blanket.
"Hey," Clancy replied just as quietly, still sweeping through those curls. "Sleep well?"
"Like a rock."
Clancy simply hummed.
"You?" asked Josh.
With a tiny smile, Clancy replied, "I'm good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just thinking. You know me."
Josh dragged Clancy closer without warning, eliciting a surprised grunt from him. He felt Josh nestle into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, one leg thrown over both of his. Warm breath tickled his collarbone.
"Tell me," Josh muttered.
Again, Clancy hummed in acknowledgement. The fingers of his right hand found the ridges of Josh's spine, counting each one, up and down, back and forth. His others dug themselves into Josh's hair and scratched at the damp scalp. On every fourth stroke, he twisted a few strands around his index finger.
"It's fine," he admitted. "I'm okay, promise."
"Don't care, tell me."
His palm dragged across Josh's shoulders, all the way down his back, stopping finally on his bare upper thigh. The hair here was soft, short. Clancy found himself drawing his hand repeatedly over it, seeking the barely there brush of it on his scarred skin, wanting to bury his entire body in something so gentle and Josh. Gorgeous, lovely Josh. His Torchbearer.
"Would you marry me?"
He wasn't sure what he thought would happen; an instant resounding 'no,' tears, astonishment, confusion. All he knew was that he definitely wasn't expecting what he got.
Josh pulled his head away. His dark eyes glittered with the orangey reflection of a flame, so at home there. The room was silent, the air thick with anticipation. Clancy stared back, unblinking, impatient.
"My darling Tyler," Josh said, smile easy and perfect, "of course I will. There's no world where I wouldn't."
The only reaction Clancy could manage was a laugh. The answer was so immediate - "Of course." Like there was never a doubt in his mind, like he had been waiting. Like he had imagined it, too.
Clancy glanced at the bouquet on the nightstand, his ukulele in the corner. On the floor, clothes lay scattered without a single care, shoes left at the door. A grin sprouted on his face, a small, tender one to match Josh's, and tears bit at his eyes. As always, his gaze found its way back to Josh.
"Good day?" he asked breathily.
Josh chuckled and leaned in to press their lips together.
"Really good."