yes, drag path by twenty one pilots is about God but its also about loving yourself at your worst. being in the most treacherous place you've ever been/been in years and still choosing yourself anyway. its the evidence of the past yous that have unlearned bad habits, learned coping mechanisms, let people in, so that now you have a support system. its the past you that clawed at life even when everything felt too much because they loved you so much. its the evidence of nail marks in your skin, and mist of your eyes as you stumble over disjointed words that hardly make sense to anyone but you because at least sharing it to the air means youre not alone. the drag path is loving yourself, even when you hate yourself, because you love yourself too much not to give yourself the life you deserve. its the continuing when everything feels hopeless. you find yourself. every time.
Ship: Torchbearer x reader, Clancy x reader (PLATONIC)
Warnings: Threats of violence, Illusions to abuse, (Y/N) and Clancy don't know how to talk to each other lmao
Chapter 7: RAWFEAR
(Y/N)’s body rolled to the floor, a tangled intangible mess of limbs and blankets entrapping her to the ground as her heart pounded out her mouth. Bile rose in her throat, tearing acid in her mouth. Nails clawed out the mass of nightmares. She was choking. Dying. She had to be. Her lungs didn’t work, clogged. Smog, smoke as thick as tree bark wrapped the column of her neck until she was gasping. Fingers raking the floor until she could drag herself away and into the stump behind her. It was too dark, too alone.
She couldn’t be back here. Not again.
As quick as she was engulfed in the darkness, a quiet “flick-whoosh” sound permeated the air, lighting up the room in soft firelight, her eyes finally settling on the oil lamp across the room. The tent. Their tent. She was in their tent. Torchbearer’s tent.
The same Torchbearer who was settling onto one knee at the end of her legs, hands up where she could see them. That sight alone made the knot in her chest ease, breathing coming all that easier even as she wheezed out. No words came out, even as her lips moved to form them.
“I know,” Torchbearer whispered, quiet and gentle, barely breaching the air around them. Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, he extended his hands, offering them out to her, palms up. Wordlessly, (Y/N) gripped onto them, so tightly Torchbearer had to fight off a wince. That would only send her spiraling back. Back to that monstrous city. Back to that room.
Instead, he took a deep breath in, until his lungs burned with the stretch, keeping her eye. (Y/N)’s head bobbled into a half-formed nod, and her chest rose shakily. A desperate, earnest attempt at following his lead. Then back out, in unison. Her fingers moved effortlessly to interlock with his, and he squeezed, hard, firm and grounding.
This was a game they’d played many nights before, and yet (Y/N) still found herself amazed at how effortlessly he dealt with it. Dealt with her.
“Can I come closer?” Torchbearer asked softly. (Y/N)’s eyes finally focused on him, seeing him now. Really seeing him. His curls were disheveled, poking out in all directions like a bear after hibernation. Eyes crusted with barely contained sleep, slightly glazed as if he hadn’t properly woken up yet. Chest still bare, goosebumps risen on his tan skin, ripped from the cozy confines of their sleeping nest to the frigid winter air. Movements slightly sloggy and slow outside of their diligent focus on her. Like the act of her soothing was something he could do in his sleep.
(Y/N) let out a quiet affirmation and without another second, his fingers unravelled from her fingers to wrap both his arms around her waist and tug her forward, all encompassing and devastating. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck on instinct but she found herself frozen. No matter how much she revelled in the affection, in his warmth, in the quiet reverence in the reassurances he muttered into the curve of her throat.
Her brain couldn’t focus on any of his gentle affection when only one thought could circulate the rotation of her brain.
She was never going to end up back in that place. Even if that meant her death.
“You shouldn’t avoid her so much, y'know. She won’t bite,” Torchbearer teased lightly, throwing an apple in Clancy’s direction, which he caught with swift hands. Despite the mocking of his voice, Clancy could dissect the layer of tender care beneath it.
Torchbearer often cared too much by Clancy’s standard. But he couldn't say it wasn’t nice to have someone in his corner for once. Even if it meant pushing him every five seconds. He only wanted what was best for him - he knew that. Even still, it sparked something personally raw in the back of his throat and he had to fight back a biting comment.
He hid his barely contained irritation behind a small shrug, watching the girl in question from their place in the tent’s entry. It was pouring it down just beyond the shelter they’d taken, mostly to protect the maps they had been scouring over seconds before nature’s downfall. And yet, outside (Y/N) stayed, diligent in her duty on guard. Some of the children were playing, splashing and flicking mud across camp, the air filled with playful screaming and squealing, adding to the symphony of the pattering rain. A droplet would splatter onto her overcoat every so often, and the men could make out her laughter from the curve in her face, eyes squinted.
“It’s raining,” Clancy replied simply, and Torchbearer scoffed, raising an eyebrow in his direction in such a way that Clancy couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was a poor excuse and they both knew it.
“You ran through freezing cold water in Trench’s valley to get away from Nico,” He responded with a deadpan expression. Jesus, Clancy felt like he was getting scolded by his father.
Clancy gave him an incredulous look, that irritation burning his throat again, “I think the circumstances were a little different, Torch.”
“Still,” Torchbearer shrugged, “The rain won’t kill you. And she looks like she could use the company.”
A small smirk pulled at Clancy’s lips and he turned to Torchbearer with a self- satisfied look on his face. Unconsciously, Torchbearer frowned, aware of the bullshit that normally came with that look, “I think we both know who’s company she’d prefer.”
It was like a switch flipped in him. The almighty leader, collected, calm and chill turned into a stuttering teenage boy who’d never seen a woman a day in his life. His eyes widened, his entire body tensed and anxious unease rested on his shoulders like a shawl. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clancy rolled his eyes, giving Torchbearer a look from the corner of his eye, the smirk never wavering even as Clancy pulled his hood over his head, “Uh-huh.”
Torchbearer scowled, leaning on the entry post as Clancy made his way out into the torrential weather, something smug and self-satisfied settling in his chest as the escapee moved to join his fellow leader despite his protest.
A small smile formed on Torchbearer’s face as the two began to chat. (Y/N)’s expression was soft and understanding, but he could spot the turmoil buried underneath it. Clancy was guarded as ever, but there was a yearning there. Like he wanted to spill over the edges but couldn’t let himself. It was an expression he recognised well.
It was one (Y/N) used to wear every waking moment.
(Y/N)’s eyes glided from the forest line to the approaching figure, rain droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked, making her face appear tear stained despite the peace that lingered. She could barely make out his squelching footsteps over the echoing of children's squeals and giggles, but she could just identify the calculated timidness of Clancy’s walk.
“You come to play too?” (Y/N) called over the heavy rainfall, a cocky smile on her face as Clancy fell in line beside her, eyes scanning the treeline.
Clancy rolled his eyes, a somewhat awkward smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow, fingers locked on his hood to keep it from falling. His head got a lot colder now that it was shaven. “Yeah, totally. Came to meet my friends Zach and Judy.”
The kids in question perked up, mischievous grins meeting each other, and suddenly something hit Clancy's back with a heavy, wet “thwack”.
Clancy’s shoulders tensed, knitted tightly, cheeks burning as (Y/N)’s laugh broke through the air. Raw and natural, without the pretences of leadership. Despite the discomfort of frozen, wet mud dripping down his back, he couldn’t resist a fond smile at the purity of her joy. She made it easy for him to talk to her, despite how he felt.
The apple in his hand extended to her like a fig leaf through a storm.
She took it silently, content in the quiet. Reading the moment. The last breath before a rattle. With a sigh weighing heavy on his chest, he turned to her, ignoring the evil cackles of the two children running away to focus on her grinning face, “I don’t mean to avoid you.”
(Y/N)’s eyes fell to him, eyebrows raised and eyes widened marginally, the smile on her face settling to a thin line. He never said what she thought he was going to. Thrown through a loop every time. The apple twisted in her hand, once, twice, three times before her mouth opened. Just looking at Clancy for too long forced a knot of anxiety to twist her stomach, hands trembling, words stumbling over each other.
“I know,” She replied simply, flicking her eyes, now fixed on the darkness before her.
Clancy's finger rolled on his pants, slipping and sliding against the peeling tape wrapped around his thigh. His eyes turned to the sky, flinching as the tears hit his face. Still, it was better to feel something, anything, than the blankness lingering in his chest. “You just…”
“Remind you of everything you ran away from,” Clancy’s shoulders loosened at her reply, his eyes snapping to her side profile at her words.
The silence between that followed was thick and heavy. Enough for him to choke if he breathed too deep.
“Yeah,” He found himself saying. He’d prepared a whole explanation, a spiel to justify his decreasing inability to function alongside her. And she’d just…
Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he’d tricked himself into believing he was.
(Y/N) let out a heavy sigh, finally turning to her companion. Clancy almost stepped back at the compassion in her eyes, gentle and forgiving. But haunted just the same. He made it easy to forget that she’d faced the same world he had.
“You’re the first person to make it out of there in seven years,” (Y/N) began, letting out a heavy breath in the gap that formed “I thought I’d be excited. Especially when I saw it was you on the other end of the call.”
She kicked a rock into the abyss of forest before them. A distant thud bristled in the trees, barely audible over the pounding of rain, but it gave a simple reprieve from the stifling conversation Clancy wanted desperately to run from.
“Every day since you’ve been here has been one of the worst days of my life,” Her words were locked between a shaking voice and unmovable indignation “Seeing you walking around camp, intertwining in my life, it’s like-”
“Like you never left,” Clancy answered, a heavy sigh breaking from his chest as one hand rose to glide over his face “Being haunted by a ghost you can’t ever get rid of.”
(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed, fingers twisting the apple in her hand once again, biting the inside of her lip in thought. Silence stretched between them, the moment between a firework ignition and explosion. Clancy’s pulse thrummed in his throat, fingers clenching at his sides.
Finally, her eyes met his, haunting and sunken, and suddenly, he wasn’t standing in front of one of the leaders of the Banditos. He was standing in front of the girl he’d met in Dema.
“I wouldn’t change it, Clancy,” She said, firm and unshaking despite the flash of residual terror in her eyes. Like the weight of everything they’d seen and lived sank in all at once. A dam finally broken. A peak behind the curtain. “Any of it.”
He didn’t reply to that, meeting her with a soft look, tension in his shoulders sinking marginally. Perhaps he didn’t have to. Clancy’s eyes wandered from her face, following a path back to the forest. It was his turn to stretch the moment, weight shifting from toe to toe. His hands found the tape on the thigh of his pants again, taking a loose strand and pulling until it curled around his hand, tacky and wet. His eyes followed the raindrops that raced down the yellowed side until they crashed down to the floor. The tape twisted through his fingers, splayed from hand to hand.
“Do you think this will ever end?” His question lay heavy in the air, filling (Y/N)'s lungs with a putrid betrayal, a foul fighting comment behind her teeth.
The gaze (Y/N) set on him was weighted, sharp, and had he been newly joined, he may have flinched, but his eyes remained unwaveringly connected to her own. “It has to. We keep trying until it does.”
Clancy was hushed into silence, tense this time rather than awkward, charged. His heart clenched in his chest, and his head ducked slightly, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Defensive irritation laced her face, and she breathed out a huff after a few minutes, fingers rising to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“I’m sorry I-” (Y/N) breathed, leaning her head back so the raindrops hit her face like paint on a canvas. She sighed, trying to ignore the cold that sometimes hit her lips when the wind blew. “Torch and I have been doing this for so long, it’s just…”
She paused, reluctance intertwined in the very root of her voice,“Sometimes I wonder how much I actually do compared to him.”
Clancy’s eyebrows pinched, shoulders bunching together, bile rising in his throat at the sudden confession, widened eyes turning to her with all the fear of a feral animal. His eyes met her side profile, holding himself like a deer in headlights. And yet he somehow found himself stepping closer until their shoulders brushed. (Y/N) flinched like a bow wound too tight, face shooting back down from his tilted angle to settle on the man beside her.
Clancy’s eyes were kinder than they used to be, she noticed. Still worn and fire-riddled, but he seemed lighter somehow. He’d started volunteering for more social work, eating lunch and dinner with the Banditos, and especially spending almost all of his free time with Torchbearer. And yet, he still avoided her like the plague.
She tried not to think about why that hurt so much.
“I never thanked you for pulling me out of there,” Clancy said simply, keeping his eyes dutifully fixed on her, watching the pull of her eyebrows as they contorted in confusion.
“You don’t have to-”
“I do,” Clancy’s voice was borderline biting as it cut her off, but somehow managed to lack in venom. The same tone Torchbearer sometimes used to cut through the chatter when something needed announcing. Clancy sighed, turning back to the forest as his jaw set, teeth grinding beneath the skin. “I’m not good with people. Not like you are.”
(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed further as she extended a hand to him, to which he pulled away slightly. (Y/N) frowned. “That’s not your fault. I’ve been out here much longer than you have.”
Clancy turned back, eyebrows narrowed slightly, as if he were offended by the frankly unneeded reassurance, “I know that.” his face settled back to a somewhat neutral expression as he pressed the tape still in his hands between his fingers mindlessly. “Part of me is scared that if I’m not good with people, then maybe…”
Clancy let out a heavy breath, looking skyward, mimicking the pose (Y/N) had been in just minutes prior.
“Then maybe it's because I shouldn’t be around them. That I’m meant to be alone”
It was as if (Y/N)'s heart fell right to her feet, a hole punched right to her gut. Queasiness gripped her throat, and it took every ounce of self-restraint still left in her not to yank Clancy into a hug and not let go until the very thought was buried in the tight squeeze of their interlocked bodies.
That was what she had needed, she realised, as the same situation punched her right in the face.
Instead, (Y/N)’s pinkie finger outstretched, brushing Clancy’s as the pair stared out into the darkness of the evening wood. Droplets soaked their faces, through their clothes and into their very bones. Behind them, the sounds of the camp settling in for sleep rang through the air. And Clancy’s finger wrapped around hers.
Hey y'all!! I know its been super long since i posted an update - I am still working on it!! Im ngl guys, I just moved to the USA from my home country with my studies so I've been super busy but the next chapter should be out SO SO soon!!! Thank you guys for how patient you've been, and for how much love you shown this silly little story!
drum show is for the kids who never felt safe at home.
who looked for everything as an escape for being home.
for the adults who to them home isn’t a safe place, a place of comfort but rather a place where they dread staying, even now.
drum show is for the people who use music to survive.
who connect with music in a way most people wouldn’t understand.
drum show is for 11 year old me who didn’t think i’d make it this far but found comfort in twenty one pilot’s music because when i listened to them i felt seen, i felt heard, i felt understood, and for the first time in my life i didn’t feel alone.
|-/
i’ve been listening to drum show for the past 3 days because i need to make sure tyler and josh get their bag
Ship: Torchbearer x reader, Clancy x reader (PLATONIC)
Warnings: Brief mention/implication of psychological torture. Dema and the Bishops doing dema and the Bishop things. Fools in love, to the point it makes you roll your eyes
Chapter 6: Holding Onto You
He was breathing too loud. Was he breathing too loud? Because it really felt like he was breathing too loud. As if hearing his thoughts, (Y/N) turned, glancing over her shoulder to him, and he froze like a deer in headlights. Shit, he was staring. He didn’t mean to stare, he was lost in thought, and his eyes must have found their way back to her. Like they knew where they belonged. That was weird. He was making this weird. Say something, Torch.
Torchbearers mouth opened and closed again, then opened…. And closed. And opened. (Y/N) laughed, lifting herself up from where she was rearranging her bedding to intertwine with him and wandered over, pressing a finger to the bottom of his chin. His throat bobbed at the contact, eyes staring into her like she was his everything. Like she was everything. With a teasing smile, she closed his mouth with a light push before wandering back to the cot. As if that simple touch hadn’t just sent his world twirling on its axis. Like his world hadn’t just crossed the room. His face was hot, the room suddenly suffocating. Part of him screamed to go outside, get some air, so he could hide the fact that he was hopelessly in over his head.
They’d shared a tent before. So why did it look so different now that her stuff was entangled in his. Her sweater was thrown over his desk, next to his letters and rotas. Her shoes carelessly scattered beside his own, cot pressed next to his and pillows mixed together to make a nest of comfort. This little pocket of space wasn’t just his now, but theirs.
It didn’t feel like this before.
Before it was survival. Theirs because they had nothing else. Theirs from necessity. He wasn’t sure how to handle the intimacy of theirs from choice. Their lives were so intertwined already. He hadn’t called it HIS in so long. Not since the first morning he woke up before her, all those years ago. Since he watched her sleeping and took no hurry in waking her, content to watch the green flick of her eyes beneath her eyelids, quiet sounds of comfort escaped whenever she resettled.
That was the morning he realised how screwed he was.
“You’ll catch flies, Torch,” (Y/N) teased gently, lightly punching one of the pillows to get it to sit how she wanted to. Her voice pulled him out to reality like a sinner hearing God in hell.
God he looked like an idiot.
“Did- Do you need any help with-” He gestured around loosely to her belongings, scattered in various states of unpacking. He needed something, anything to occupy himself.
(Y/N) giggled softly, turning back to him with a raised eyebrow, “How many all-nighters have you pulled, man?”
Torchbearer’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, glancing between her and the wall like he couldn’t quite process her words. Granted, he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, constantly running on two to three hours or none at all to try and tie up all the loose ends.
Apparently, his silence was a lot longer than he even registered, doing little to help his case, as (Y/N) rolled her eyes and gestured him forward with a sway of her hand. His feet were moving before he told them to kick them into gear, guided on a pre-plotted course of home. Her smile never wavered, as her hands rose to rest on his chest. Something in her expression shifted. Torchbearer’s heartbeat shot to his ears, heavy and all-consuming when her hands lingered, fingers automatically tracing light patterns. She’d touched him before. They were affectionate all the time, if the looks they got whenever a new set of Banditos joined the camp told them anything.
So why did this feel so intimate?
And why did he feel so cold when the warmth of her palms departed with a soft push?
He landed on the cot with a soft huff, shooting her a playful glare. Both of them knew that her touch wasn’t enough to move him, the expanse of his muscle vastly overpowering hers. But he went anyway, letting her take the reins.
He’d go anywhere she wanted him to.
(Y/N) stayed smiling down at him, tilting her head softly. She looked ethereal in the soft lamplight of his -their- tent, the soft yellow flickers casting delicate shadows that danced across her eyes and the curve of her smile. It was like her hair was on fire, practically glowing, like the torch he held so dear.
“What?” She asked after a long pause, giving him the liberty of taking her in. He was so pretty. Soft tufts of curls fluttered over his forehead, still slightly damp after its wash. The red in his underside had started to fade, now a more pinkish colour. She needed to redo that sometime soon. No matter how cute it looked, he’d start to whine about it in the next few days. His eyes locked onto her, mocha and wide, pupils dilated, like he was looking at the moon.
Sometimes she wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It made it almost impossible not to spill everything right there and then.
His head tilted slightly, leaning back on his hands slightly. A smile curved his lips, something warm and gentle. Unspoken. Familiar. “Nothing.”
—-
The night was quiet, much more quiet than he was used to, even after months in Trench’s tranquility. Clancy wasn’t used to a silence that wasn’t charged, heavy with fear, tension. Rather, he wasn’t used to silence without the reality of consequence. Nothing chirped in Dema. Nature evaded the thick smog, dark streets and silent people. Took its course outside the walls, as far as possible. He used to be envious of them. Now he understood.
They didn’t belong there. Just like how he didn’t belong here.
But he didn’t belong there either. He felt like a ghost in limbo. A wanderer, with nowhere to go. Not quite at home anywhere.
His eyes darted to (Y/N)’s tent, briefly drifting from their commitment to the fire, now dark and empty. Clancy wished he could ignore the cruel, dirty curling in his stomach, his eyes narrowing to an unconscious glare.
She made it look so easy. She laughed, and smiled, said the right thing. Her words struck deep within the Banditos without effort.
She breathed, and Torchbearer came running, like a dog on a leash.
This was her home.
Not his.
Clancy sighed, the weight of his breath flickering the fire. This wasn’t fair. She fought tooth and nail to get him out, had watched him and catered to him, brought him food, pushed him to the others until he finally made connections. Pushed him toward Torchbearer, until he found companionship.
And most of all, she didn’t let him push her away.
(Y/N) was patient, kind.
Sometimes he hated her for it.
Running a hand over his face, he smoothed the harsh edges and corners, wiping the glare he didn’t realise he was holding off his face until it was blank again. His gaze instead fell to the only other light source in camp. Everyone else was asleep.
Except him.
Shovelling the pile of dirt beside the fire over it, the escapee wandered to the supply tent, the one he’d called his home for the first few weeks until they could source another one.
Lamplight flickered under the closed edges of the entry way, and slowly, he pushed inside.
Torchbearer was hunched over the desk, head resting precariously on his hand, fingers locked into his hair. His beanie lay on the floor, sleeves of his hoodie half rolled up. Ink stretched across his skin like sap, and exhaustion dragged from every muscle and bone.
Weary eyes scanned the papers before him, pen twirling in his fingers effortlessly. Frustration pulled his eyebrow, puzzled. He glared at the papers as if they’d translate themselves.
Torchbearer’s eyes barely lifted to meet the disturbance at his door, sagging upwards until they met Clancy’s. Clancy didn’t say anything, simply tilting his head at the papers until Torchbearer stood up. His bones stretched, crunching and popping uncomfortably as the man groaned, reaching for the sky as Clancy stepped closer.
“Admin was never quite my forte,” Torchbearer explained, mid-groan, before shifting to stand in front of the desk and leaning back on it. Clancy hummed quietly, glancing at the hazily scrawl of writing on the papers, nonsensical and borderline gibberish from what he could make out.
“Why didn’t you go on the fishing trip instead?” Clancy asked, folding his arms over his chest, positioning himself over the tent's centre pole.
Torchbearer scoffed quietly, a laugh in his voice as he spoke, “She’s a better fisher than I am.”
Clancy raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t take her for a fisherman.”
“She’s not,” Torchbearer's smile was wide, fond and gentle, a certain familiarity behind it. So soft that Clancy himself found himself smiling.
A chuckle escaped Clancy’s throat, eyes drifting back to the papers beneath Torchbearer’s supporting hands.
“I never thought that we’d get big enough to ever need admin,” Torchbearer confessed, chin tucking to his chest in thought. “She figured it out in days.”
“(Y/N)’s good like that,” Clancy commented absently. Something in Torchbearer’s eyes shifted, eyebrows twitching slightly, but he nodded regardless. “She had an entire system in Dema.”
Torchbearer seemed to freeze, shoulders tensed. A small scratch sounded as his nails scraped the wooden desk. Clancy’s eyes watched curiously, head tilted slightly. “She had a job?”
“We all do,” Clancy shrugged, “Unless you’re someone who does well with structure. Then they leave you to wander.”
The leader glanced away. He didn’t understand how Clancy and (Y/N) could talk about Dema so casually, when every single thing they mentioned made his stomach churn, and bile rise at the back of his throat.
Clancy cleared his throat, shuffling slightly under the new tension in the room. He didn’t intend for his words to have that effect. He and (Y/N) could move on almost immediately. Sometimes he forgot that other people were out of the loop that had been their entire lives. So, in a half attempt to ease the uncomfortableness that radiated his body, the escapee gestured to the papers that were now mildly crumpled underneath Torchbearer’s clenched fingers.
“I can give you a hand with those, if you want,” He offered passively. Admittedly, Torchbearer looked like shit. A small smile quirked Clancy’s lips at the realisation. For him to even see the proud, ever put together leader in such a state of disarray was a privilege, reserved only for him and (Y/N).
It was almost alien to have made it close to their world.
Torchbearer’s eyes widened for a second, as if he’d been lost in space and then dragged back by the scruff of his neck, before settling back on Clancy with raised eyebrows. He was silent for a long second, eyes flittering between the man and the papers, releasing them from his claw grip.
“O-Oh!” His brain caught up in real time as he pushed himself off of the desk and stepped around it “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
Clancy raised an eyebrow “I don’t seem to remember you asking.”
Before Torchbearer could open his mouth, Clancy had stepped around the desk, pushing the papers around to get a better gauge of what he was doing.
He could see the exact moment (Y/N)’s handwriting ended and Torchbearer’s began; Neat, fine print, meticulously cared for shifted to exhausted half scribbles. It was barely above chicken scratch, and Clancy’s eyes squinted with the effort of deciphering it. Something something, rations, something something hunting group, indiscernible, fishing trip. All in one bunch.
He wasn’t even sure if Torchbearer could understand his own work, let alone present it to (Y/N) when she returned in a few days.
Torchbearer sighed quietly, turning his neck in a poor attempt to ease the tension that had wormed itself into his muscles. A disgusting crunch filled the air as he tilted his head to watch Clancy decipher his writing, and Clancy winced, head ducking at the sound.
Torchbearer muttered a hushed sorry, half sitting on the desk beside his friend’s arm to observe, his eyes focused on the paper “Did you have a job?”
Clancy hummed, erasing something Torchbearer had written to replace it with his much neater, awake word, “I taught the kids in Dema for a while. The Bishops knew I hated kids, but they grew on me.”
Something in Torchbearer's eyes softened. He couldn’t imagine Clancy interacting with children - he kept enough distance from the ones in camp. Maybe that was why.
“Nico just wasn’t a fan when I started to tell them that the Bishops were lying to them.”
A snort escaped Torchbearer before he could stop himself, and Clancy's eyes met him with a long hard stare. Torchbearer’s shoulders tensed, watching the man carefully, when Clancy’s eyes slowly shifted to a squint as a small laugh made its way into the air. Short and to the point, but melodical. Perhaps like the man in question, in a way.
The pair’s laughter eased after a few seconds, and the air around them turned comfortable. Almost cozy.
This moment was the closest to a home Clancy had ever felt.
Pencil scratching against paper, and the occasional sound of the pencil getting dropped in favour of ink, was the only thing Torchbearer could hear, and he basked in the peace of it. It was oddly satisfying to watch Clancy work, scribbling down numbers as he did quick math, quietly muttering under his breath and scrawling down names, dates and estimates. He was efficient and concise, and seemed to pick up (Y/N)’s system within seconds. Like it was a dance he’d done a million times before.
“How come you’re so good at this if you worked with children?” Torchbearer finally asked, and the question seemed to break the tranquillity like a scratching record.
Tension filled the air, and Clancy’s shoulders shifted. His entire demeanour sucked inwards, suddenly cold. Like the man he’d been when he joined the Banditos months ago.
“(Y/N) never used to be any good at it,” Clancy's voice was suddenly quiet, just barely loud enough for Torchbearer to make it out. Glancing at Clancy’s hand, he spied the white knuckled grip he’d suddenly developed, pressing so hard onto the paper that it was seconds away from ripping straight through.
“What changed?” Torchbearer asked, raising an eyebrow, in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Clancy hadn’t quite seen how much he was capable of freaking out over stuff like this. He preferred to keep it that way.
Clancy was quiet for a few minutes, and Torchbearer felt his heart sink slightly. It took a lot to make Dema’s latest escape artist hesitate. “Dema demands perfection. And there are consequences when you don’t fulfill that demand.”
Every fibre of Torchbearer’s body turned icy cold, his body tensing, charged like air before a thunderstorm. If his fingers could break through the desk, they would. It was like he had jumped straight into the Paladin Strait.
Part of him didn’t want to ask. It wasn’t something (Y/N) had shared with him, and that wouldn’t be without reason. They shared everything. But this was her life. Had been her life. Her day-to-day, her nightmares, her trauma. It was something she carried with her every single day.
That was much too heavy a load for one person.
Besides, if he were to ask, Clancy wouldn’t give him an answer if he didn’t think he deserved to hear it. He was annoyingly loyal to her like that. But, as if reading his mind, Clancy’s voice broke through his bomber plane of thoughts with hardened, cold words.
“Solitary confinement was the only thing that the Bishops could find that actually had an effect. I used to think that she wasn’t scared of the others out of protest. But her eyes when she came back from those days…”
He was silent for a long time, head hunched down at the papers, even though he’d long since stopped writing. Torchbearer could feel the unease flowing from him in waves. He couldn’t say it made him feel much better.
Those mornings when she wakes up thinking she’s still in Dema, she got this look. An amalgamation of horrified, angry and haunted, wandering around camp like a lost spirit. Just glancing into her eyes, the shell of herself, on those days, lingered in his mind for days, right there whenever he closed his eyes. He was never looking at (Y/N) on those days. Just her vessel.
If that was enough to torment his days, he didn’t want to begin to imagine what it was like for Clancy to see it straight from the source.
“That would make anyone a fast learner,” Clancy finished, voice slightly hoarse, shifting to something darker, before his attention turned once more to scribbling. Although the lines were more jagged, pressed deeper into the paper than they had been before, “I just helped keep her steady.”
Torchbearer remained silent, brain running a million miles a minute. Something about it filled Clancy with unimaginable rage, visceral and biting, although he tried to disguise it in the aggressive words that formed on the paper before him.
“You saved her life, man,” Torchbearer replied quietly, speaking as if what he had said was sacred.
The weight of his words wasn’t lost on Clancy.
“Thank you, Clancy.”
Clancy found it impossible to meet his eyes, but he couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed in his chest upon hearing the desperate earnestness in Torchbearer’s voice.
Despite the intensity in his chest, the escapee could only shrug, “We looked after each other. She saved mine.”
Torchbearer let out a long breath, feeling the close of the conversation. There was so much left unsaid. On both their parts. Neither of them quite knew what to do with that. So Clancy focused his energy on the work, as Torchbearer began to make his way to the tent's entrance to finally get some rest.
Clancy's departing words lay heavy on his shoulders, and as he stepped into the cool of the late evening air, the weight seemed to settle onto his entire body. “Mine too.”
Ship: Torchbearer x reader, Clancy x reader (PLATONIC)
Warnings: Maybe the tiniest implication of starving? Some fluff!!
Chapter 5: The Craving
The world always seemed so quiet at sunrise. Not the kind of quiet that (Y/N) had gotten to know over the years. Filled with hushed whispered and cautious footsteps, fuelled by fear and trepidation. No, this wasn’t quiet through fear or intimidation. The morning was quiet, simply because it could be. Not because it had to be. It was the universe’s way of waking up. Perhaps its natural version of crusty eyes, and confused speech. What a gift to sit and watch the world as it arose from slumber, to feel the first rays of light on her face after years of darkness. The only light she’d ever had had been artificial, burning her retinas while she tried to sleep. A heavy breath made its way from her chest, finding company in the air in front of her eyes. Morning dew glistened from the trees, reflecting on the sun in such a way that it looked like the forest was on fire. That same dew soaked the bottom of her pants, sure to make her receive mockery from the children in camp in a few hours.
This made it all worth it, though.
Besides, she was glad she could give them something to laugh about. With Dema starting to expand its reach to other areas of Trench, tension laid thick across camp. A large influx of people seeking refuge from capture had appeared within a matter of days, transforming the camp to a small cluster to a bustling community.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” Torchbearer’s voice sounded, fondness dripping from his voice. Turning to look at the man, (Y/N) found him fully dressed, knife clipped to his waist and unlit torch in hand.
“Not my fault you’re a stalker,” (Y/N) shot back with a smile, shuffling slightly to make room for him. The shift had put her onto a new wet patch of grass, but it meant that Torch got to have at least a portion of dry grass. That alone made the horrible sensation of cold moisture leaking through her pants that bit easier.
Torchbearer scoffed, taking a seat beside her. (Y/N) laughed quietly when he grimaced at the same sensation she’d just had to experience. “Not my fault you sit in the same spot every morning.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but folded her legs in front of her, leaning on her arms. Silence stretched between them for a few minutes, comfortable and gentle. Soothing. She could already hear the rest of camp beginning to rouse, the faint workings of the kitchen and guard rota already rumbling. Another day, another set of responsibilities.
Neither of them were quite ready to face it yet,
“How are our supplies looking?” She asked, voice hushed. Torchbearer hummed beside her, setting his torch on the ground, propped between his legs so the rags wouldn’t get wet.
“Not enough for the people we have,” He sighed. He looked tired, bags heavy under his eyes. He was pale, almost sickly looking and she found herself frowning. She was probably in a similar state. They’d both been running themselves ragged, taking extra guard shifts, hunting, scrambling for tents, cots, clothes. Many nights had been spent in his tent figuring out rotas and rations, sometimes going hungry themselves to spread their thin supplies across the group.
No matter what they did it never seemed enough.
(Y/N) let out a long breath, dropping her head slightly as she looked at him. “I can go hunting today,” she replied.
Torchbearer shook his head, a frustrated furrow in his brow, though not, she felt, at her. “It’s not food, it's housing.”
“Oh?” He nodded at her prying, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Well, we’re not doing great for food right now either but we’re getting by. There’s a team going hunting along the valley today,"he explained. The valley was always good hunting terrain but it was a two day trip to get there and back. And honestly, with how busy they had been, they couldn’t really afford to spare the hands. Although, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice right now.
“That family that came in last night,” He continued “I managed to bunk them with Josh for the night but we need somewhere for them to stay long term.”
“We can’t expect Josh to give up his space like that. Or for that family to be cramped in that space,” She replied, covering her face while she thought. Torchbearer hummed in response, watching as she quickly moved her hands to the side of her face when she realised she was hidden from the sun's rays.
Torchbearer’s lips pulled into a gentle smirk as she bathed like a sunflower in the morning light, despite the circumstances.
Josh’s tent was comically small. He’d taken it intentionally a few months back when he’d joined, grateful just to be taken into the rebellion.That was barely enough space for one guy let alone a family of four.
(Y/N) huffed again, looking up to the blossoming sky, weighing her options. She didn’t need all her space. Her tent was much too big for one person, but Torchbearer had given it to her when they’d split from sharing years ago. She’d appreciated the sentiment then, still did, but it was more room than she’d ever need and the perfect for their family.
Besides it wouldn’t be forever, just until they could source another tent. She could bunk down in one of the supply tents until then. One less problem for them to worry about.
“They can have my tent. I can just stay in the food or medicine tents until we find something new,” (Y/N) stated with a shrug, meeting Torchbearer’s narrowed eyes.
“(Y/N), I’m not letting you do that,” His voice was firm, leaving little room for argument, and she raised an eyebrow at him.
“What other option do we have?” She said, challenge in her tone, though no venom. She expected that response. He had an endearingly annoying habit of making sure she was taken care of, even when they had nearly a hundred other people to look after.
He glanced around, as if something would present itself before turning back to her “I can give up my tent.”
“How is that any different?” She said, a fond smile playing on her lips at his stubbornness. He frowned, looking akin to a petulant child. “Besides, mine’s bigger.”
He scoffed at the teasing tone in her voice, looking away briefly even as he chuckled. He was quiet for a few seconds, dwelling in the silence of consideration.
“You could come stay with me,” Torchbearer offered, voice low, like he didn’t want to face her potential rejection of his suggestion. When (Y/N) turned to him in surprise, his cheeks were red and eyes fixed to the ground ahead of him. Instead of the apprehensive look he half expected, her smile only widened.
“You sure?” she questioned. But she knew his answer.
He shrugged, trying his hardest to appear effortless, “We used to share a tent in the early days. It’s not any different,” he paused before suddenly looking at her with moderately widened eyes “Unless you don't want to.”
(Y/N)’s smile stayed and he found himself stuttering over his words, far from the cool, collected, stoic leader of the Banditos. Jesus.
“I spent two years with your snoring, I think I can do a few more weeks,” she teased, giving him a gentle thud with her hand. He pretended to rub his arm with an overpronounced hissing wince.
Rolling his eyes, Torchbearer shoved her shoulder with his own, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Move your stuff at some point,” he said with a fake sternness before rising to his feet.
With his non-torch hand, he offered her help, which she took graciously. She gently wiped the ass of her pants with her hand, before looking at him only to find his eyes boring into hers.
It was only then that she realised her hand was still in his. But nothing about it was awkward or uncomfortable. It never was with Torchbearer. His palm was warm, and ever so slightly clammy despite the chill in the air.
His gaze was intense, as it usually was, staring into the very depths of her soul, eyes warm but heavy. Whenever he looked at her like this, (Y/N) found herself unable to break it, not that she wanted to. He’d been doing it more and more as of late.
Nerves prickled the back of her neck as she kept locked eyes with the man before her, before she took half a step towards him, a small smile pulling at her lips again. Something in his eyes seemed to shift, widening ever so slightly, and ears turning a pretty shade of scarlet and he suddenly stepped back, making a failed attempt of smoothness by redirecting the hand that had been holding hers to his hair.
“I- uh - they need me on patrol so-,” He stumbled and stuttered, finding himself stumbling more and more as he caught the quiet giggle in her throat and the soft smile on her face. It was like he forgot how to be a person around her recently.
(Y/N) nodded fondly, waving her wrist at him slightly, “Go keep watch. I have to move my stuff anyway.”
In the few seconds between their conversation and now, he had somehow managed to blank that snippet from memory. She was going to be in his tent, in his cot, surrounded by all her belongings and his.
It was oddly domestic considering the life they lived.
The thought made him rush off to his job, cheeks burning and chest tight, leaving behind a grinning (Y/N).
—---------------
Clancy stuck out like a sore thumb. While the rest of camp gathered around the fire, laughing and chatting, exchanging pleasantries over the soup that the kitchen team had lovingly crafted from the deer that Josh had hunted earlier that day, Clancy resigned himself to a lonely log. His lips pressed to a thin line when they weren’t open to eat, flickering eyes frantically glancing from person to person. It had taken weeks for him to even come out to eat with everyone else. There’d be a time for (Y/N) to push him to join the others. Today wasn’t that day.
Regardless, (Y/N), after making her rounds and muttering polite greetings to the rest of her Banditos, found a seat beside the man. He didn’t look at her, didn’t even acknowledge her presence, but he didn’t move away either. As far as (Y/N) was concerned that was a small victory. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a huff of annoyance, as it threatened the corners of her mouth as she chewed.
Neither of them exchanged any words, and the silence, while not awkward, was heavy. The silence of two strangers who used to be friends. Although, neither of them could quite say they knew what friends were supposed to look like. (Y/N) knew what a friend should look like now, she’d found that here in Trench, but she didn’t know what that looked like in Clancy.
A few long minutes passed like this, the pair people watching as they chewed, comfortable in their silent solemness. Torchbearer passed with Tyler on their guard rotation, the duo giving them a wave. (Y/N) waved back with a small grin, and Clancy nodded silently.
After another few minutes, Clancy turned his head to her, eyes blank and weighted. He could stare into the soul of anyone, just like Torchbearer. It had been one of his unsettling skills since the day they’d met. But unlike Torchbearer, whose knowing gaze filled her with comfort, eased by the ability to be known without explanation, Clancy’s stare was intimidating. Bordering cold, it was like he was staring into the darkest parts of you, scrutinising and harsh. (Y/N) had found years ago that it was impossible to lie to him.
“How did you get out?” He asked quietly. His voice was hoarse, unfamiliar with its sudden use after days of borderline silence. (Y/N) grimaced, feeling the scratchiness of his throat in her bones, stabbing a chunk of potato as she shrugged.
“The same way we got you out,” She replied mindlessly, shoveling food into her mouth. Clancy set her with a long stare, tongue tucked into his teeth before nodding.
“You just found it?” His tone was disbelieving but not accusatory. Even still, her shoulders tensed, as if she was getting caught in a lie she didn’t even know she was telling.
“Saw it, in a dream,” She wasn’t used to being this blunt. It had been a long, long time since she’d worried about wasting her breath. Clancy’s eyebrows flicked up quickly, taking in her words.
He was excruciatingly familiar with her visions, despite the seven years they’d been apart. He’d spent countless nights trying to convince her that she wasn’t going crazy when she folded inwards, fretting over her self-perceived collapsing mind. Clancy supposed it was payback for the nights she spent comforting him after the nights where sleep escaped in place of torment. Permanent reminders of what the Bishops did to him.
“And you ran?”
(Y/N) hummed quietly, something guilty and heavy settling in her chest, “I didn’t think, I just saw it and ran.”
Clancy shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the words coming from her mouth, oblivious to the way she avoided his eyes. “I would’ve too.”
Silence dragged between them. Clancy’s ever exhausted eyes continued to scan the crowd, catching the moments of calm around the campfire. A mother and daughter cuddled up together, sharing some soup; a couple in the middle of a fight, backs turned to each other, a storm upon each of their faces; a girl glancing at her friend whenever she wasn’t looking with a gentle smile on her face, cheeks flushed; Tyler and Torchbearer stood on the camps outskirt, the former with a cheeky, mischievous smile on his face and the latter in the middle of rolling his eyes. Torchbearer shook his head, his face shifting to something disapproving, folding his arms over his chest. His head tilted when Tyler’s eyes were closed mid-laugh to their direction. But instead of watching Clancy with suspicious eyes, Clancy noticed his attention fixed almost entirely on (Y/N), a softness to his face. The escapee glanced at the girl beside him, an eyebrow raised in interest. Hm.
(Y/N) caught Clancy’s gaze in Torchbearer’s direction, unbeknownst to the one her own way, and a soft smile rose to her face. Giving his shoulder a light tap with her own. His head shot back to her as if she’d gunned him down, and she nodded towards Torchbearer and Tyler, her smile never wavering.
“You should go join them,” (Y/N) egged gently. His eyebrows narrowed slightly, eyes wandering back to the pair slowly and then back to her. As if he were scoping the situation out. The thought made his skin crawl, bugs under his skin, and part of him wanted to dash back to his tent. But there was something underlying. Something deep down he knew he had already figured out, but it piqued his interest nonetheless.
Clancy looked between the two again, a slow heavy breath wheezing from his lungs. Well, he had to integrate himself in this group one way or another. This was as good as any.
With another sigh, he shoved his bowl of leftover broth into her hands, ignoring her resigned “hey!”, and slowly made his way over.
(Y/N) watched with cautious, somewhat nervous eyes. She didn’t want to push him too far, but this seemed the perfect opportunity. For some unknown reason, she wanted them to be friends. Or at the very least, share civility. Clancy was a stranger now, despite the ache in her chest at the confession, but he had been her whole world once upon a time. Whether she was willing to accept or realise it or not, there was something special about the idea of her two worlds colliding into one that fueled that spark of hope in her chest.
Torchbearer let out a sarcastic chuckle as Tyler took another blow, giggling between breaths and leaning on a tent support pole to keep himself upright. He was too tired for this.
Clancy moved like a ghost. A shadow on borrowed time. Urgent, yet weightless. Silent footsteps, until he wanted you to know he was there. So, it came as no surprise that Tyler jumped when Clancy appeared beside Torchbearer, seemingly out of nowhere. It was the leader’s turn to laugh as Tyler gripped his chest, panting like a dog as he shot the newcomer an ingenuine glare.
Clancy just stared back, eyebrows furrowed slightly before pulling his eyes to Torchbearer. The man was already studying him, brown eyes fixed onto analysing every twitch of his face. While his presence was not unkind, he was intimidating. Perhaps if he hadn't been haunted by the Bishops his whole life, Clancy might even feel uncomfortable by the weight of his gaze. Tyler glanced between the two, watching their silent exchange. Each measuring the other. Great, Torchbearer was bad enough, now there were two of them.
“You guys done?” Tyler asked, leaning back against the pole with crossed arms and Torchbearer's eyes snapped to him, as if he had forgotten he was there.
Finally, Torchbearer turned back to Clancy and gave a polite smile. It was practiced and precise, a bit too perfect to be completely genuine, but too lopsided to be entirely fake. One of a leader. “It’s good to see you out, Clancy.”
Clancy’s stare remained on Torchbearer until he turned back. Something in his eyes shifted, an awkward softness that didn’t quite look like it belonged to a man of his hard exterior. He nodded stiffly, “Thanks, again. For bringing me here.”
Torchbearer shrugged, “That was all her, man. Told you that back in Dema.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow, a gentle scoff escaping him, pulling their attention back to him. “So he told you about their two-man vision group, huh?” He made his way over, worming an arm over Torchbearer’s shoulders and patting lightly “You guys against the world, right?”
His shoulders twitched, shifting to unease and irritation, played off in an attempt of playful scowl. Clancy could see the truth behind it. Torchbearer shrugged him off, stepping back slightly “Knock it off. Don’t forget who’s in charge of your shift rotations.”
It was an empty threat, one that Tyler caught onto by the way his lips curved into a mischievous smile “Not you.”
Clancy turned his attention to Torchbearer who, despite his exasperated look at Tyler, caught it with a quick reply, Curious, waiting. “That’s (Y/N)’s area of expertise.”
The escapee hummed, eyebrows bending together, unease crawling up the back of his neck. Quickly pushed away by a flash of movement in his peripheral, his back straightened. Taut, like a bow about to release an arrow. (Y/N), as if summoned by the grace of her very name, flitted through, passing by with another Bandito. She broke between the group of men with practiced ease, hips evading obstacle with a certain finesse. One that Clancy didn’t miss Torchbearer’s attention dragged to. She passed through simply, without stopping or questioning, minus a soft smile of greeting, only dropping a plate in Torchbearer’s hand without a word, before disappearing with the Bandito. Ritual.
Without a second of question, Torchbearer dug into the stew inside which, when Clancy glanced, only held broth and pieces of beetroot. Once again, the man’s eyebrows turned together, looking at Tyler in query. Tyler was already smirking, eyes set on Torchbearer who seemed lost in the food, like a man starved, before his gaze fluttered to Clancy.
Tyler chuckled, reaching to pat Clancy’s shoulder, seemingly ignoring the flinch it ignited from the man. Whether from oblivion or uncaring, he wasn’t quite sure yet. “She hates beetroot. Them against the world.”
Torchbearer said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the stew in his palms, but when Clancy watched the firelight flicker on his face, his face seemed more flushed than it had a few seconds ago.
origamiaround
gummygunk
izzy806
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
