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Branzy hums softly as Clown runs a hand through his hair. He’s curled up on Clown’s lap, resting his head against Clown’s chest and closing his eyes in contentment.
Clown frowns slightly and his hand pauses, moving to dance gently over Branzy’s jagged, broken horn. “How did this happen, violet?”
Branzy shudders at the mention. He hasn’t told Clown about it- he doesn’t particularly want to relive the memory. “Don’ wanna talk ‘bout it,” he says sleepily, turning his face into Clown. Clown doesn’t push further, but Branzy knows he owes his boyfriend an explanation.
He closes his eyes and lets them sit in comfortable silence for several minutes more, simply basking in the warmth of Clown. But he knows Clown’s dying to ask him about it, and eventually he’s going to have to tell him.
He sighs and opens his eyes, looking up into Clown’s. They’re the red of hearts, of love and of blood. They’re fitting for him.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Branzy mumbles, and Clown’s eyes widen.
“You don’t need to, really,” he assures him, but Branzy shakes his head.
“You should… you should know.”
Branzy has his back turned when it happens. He can’t see it coming, doesn’t know what’s happening. Now until a sword is digging into his horn and he’s screaming.
“I didn’t… I didn’t even know who it was. I don’t think they meant to-”
“Are you sure you can tell the story, hyacinth?”
A beat. Branzy gathers his composure and nods.
“Yeah.”
Branzy whirls around to see an invisible player swinging a bloodstained sword at him a second time. He lets out a yelp and dodges sideways, but not quickly enough. The sword misses him, mostly, but a sudden flash of pain in his ear tells him he hasn’t escaped unscathed.
Branzy shudders at the memory, and Clown runs a hand along his cheek, lifting Branzy’s head until their eyes meet. “You can stop at any time.”
“I know. But you deserve to hear it.”
“I don’t need to hear it if it means you’ll be upset.”
“It’s alright.”
Hot blood trickles down along his ear and his horn in little rivulets that dye his white hair a ruby-red. After far too long, Branzy remembers to raise his own sword in defense, but the damage has already been done.
Clown sighs, eyes narrowing in anger. He’s quick to reassure Branzy that it’s not directed at him.
“I’m going to hunt them down-”
“It was months ago, Clown, and I don’t even know who it was.”
“I’ll hunt every last player until I find who did it.”
“As sweet as that is, I think it’s a bit extra-”
“ I’m a bit extra, lavender.”
Nobody notices Branzy slipping away from the fight. They probably all assume he’s died, like he always does. They all know he’s an awful fighter. He’s absolutely worthless-
“You’re not worthless to me, lavender,” Clown frowns, and Branzy stares wordlessly at some point on the ground, where scarlet tulips sway in the slight breeze.
Branzy heard a story, once, that all tulips were white until one day when there was a great battle between gods. Blood rained from the sky, soaking into the flowers, and the tulips still bloom red to this day.
Branzy wishes his death would at least be half as glorious as that. But Branzy’s not a firework. He won’t go out in a bright, shining show of colors. He’s more like a candle, slowly burning himself down until eventually he’ll flicker out, making no sound. No one will even notice when his light finally fades.
“Why do you keep me alive?” Branzy asks. He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t see why Clown hasn’t killed him yet.
“Because I love you,” Clown answers easily, without a thought. It’s a terrifying thought, that the only thing keeping him alive is love. But then, Branzy has always loved the thrill of a romance that could end at any time, and bring the world crashing down with it.
Branzy sneaks off into the forest, high on pain and adrenaline. He leans against a wide oak and lets out a shaky laugh, the only thing he can manage. It’s not the reaction you’d expect, especially not when heat is pulsing from his chipped horn and ear, but Branzy hasn’t survived by being predictable.
Clown tilts his head in contemplation. “You said your horn was only chipped.”
“Yeah, it got broken in the next fight. That one was… not my best moment.”
“You don’t know who did it?” Clown muses. Branzy knows what he’s trying to do, but you can’t out-trick a trickster.
Branzy doesn’t offer a reply, simply continuing with the story.
He’s not expecting a fight the very next day. All he’s doing is walking along a path near spawn. He doesn’t even remember why. The reason was never very important. However it happens, he knows what happens next. An axe held to his face is very hard to forget.
Branzy blinks in surprise and follows the axe blade until he sees who’s holding it. And that is… not who he’d expect. Branzy didn’t pin him as the type to get revenge. But even this guy’s a better fighter than Branzy, so it makes sense.
“Why are you hiding their identity from me?” Clown demands. Branzy swallows; it’s quite the risk to lie so openly to Clown.
“I don’t want you to kill them,” Branzy answers. He doesn’t blame them for what they did; he would have gotten payback on himself (although that didn’t make the pure agony go away).
“Branzy, they broke your horn.”
“I had it coming, and-”
“What could you possibly have done to deserve that!?” Clown sighs. Branzy flinches involuntarily, nearly jumping out of Clown’s arms. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell at you, violet.”
Branzy smiles halfheartedly in response and offers a meek reply. “That’s okay.”
It’s not, really. They don’t mention it.
“You betrayed me, Branzy.”
“It was a misunderstanding, really-” Branzy chuckles nervously, backing away from the axe. His attacker steps forward, matching pace.
“I don’t think you understand. You betrayed me.”
Branzy feels his heart begin to race as he realizes that he could die here, to the hands of one of the few people he cares about-
“Someone you care about?” Clown comments, raising an eyebrow. Branzy curses internally. That slip-up alone narrows down the options to a very small group of people.
“Clown, please-”
“Nobody hurts you and gets away with it, darling.”
Branzy appreciates the sentiment, really he does. But he doesn’t want Clown killing the one of the only friends he has left.
“I’m sure we can talk about it-”
“No, Branzy. We’re way past talking.”
Branzy has no time to do anything but duck down and hope as the axe is swung. He can hear the whooshing of the weapon going over his head, thankfully missing him.
Or so he thinks, until he’s crumpling to the ground in agony, and his head is lighter . He doesn’t realize what it is, at first, until he feels blood streaming down his head and dripping down onto his face, obscuring his vision in one eye.
Clown winces, inhaling in a sharp gasp. Of all people, he knows how painful horn injuries are. They’re quite literally exposed bones.
Branzy trembles at the memory- blood, so, so much BLOOD- and Clown grabs his chin, tilting Branzy’s face upwards. “Branzy?” he questions. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Branzy says unconvincingly, refusing to meet Clown’s eyes. He’s fairly sure he’ll start crying again, and he doesn’t want to deal with that.
“Look at me,” Clown says gently, kindly. Branzy refuses, and Clown releases his grip on Branzy’s face. Instead he presses a kiss to Branzy’s ear.
Branzy blushes and begins to stammer out the next part of the story, still avoiding meeting Clown’s eyes.
Branzy hears a cut-off curse from his enemy. He’s completely at the mercy of his attacker now, in no state to fight back.
“Branzy? Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to hurt you that badly-” There’s a hint of regret in his voice as he says Branzy’s name. Branzy doesn’t know how the guy had thought Branzy wouldn’t be hurt, but that’s a problem for another time.
Branzy doesn’t reply to his words. He-
-feels himself beginning to cry. His horn has healed since then, but he still doesn’t want to relive the memory. He should have known this would happen, that he couldn’t handle it-
“Branzy? Branzy, violet, can you look at me?”
Branzy shakes in Clown’s arms, offering no reply. The tip of his broken horn brushes Clown slightly and he jumps. Clown’s grip on him tightens- he’s trapped, Branzy’s trapped, Clown’s going to-
“Branzy! I’m not going to hurt you!”
That’s what they all say, isn’t it? That’s what they say before- before they-
“Branzy!”
It’s Clown. He’s okay. He’s safe; Clown won’t hurt him.
Branzy finally lets himself breathe. “Thank you, Clown,” he murmurs.
“Your horn wasn’t the only thing they broke, was it?” Clown whispers. He doesn’t sound like he’s expecting one, but Branzy nods anyway. Clown kisses Branzy’s hair again and Branzy drifts away, slowly falling into sleep.
Clown smiles down at his boyfriend. Whatever they’d broken, he’ll be the one to fix it.