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Everything had happened far too quickly. Clown hadn’t been ready (but then, Clown would never have been ready for what happened).
He’d thought it was just an average fight (and oh, how wrong he’d been). He’d been running across a field, the same as hundreds of others. Vitalasy was chasing him in pursuit for some reason or other that wasn’t important anymore. And then he heard his name called.
He turned to look at who’d yelled for him (the last moment before the dread that hadn’t let him go since set in). His heart dropped when he saw who’d called him, and more importantly who they had.
On the opposite end of the field from Clown stood Parrot, but Parrot wasn’t Clown’s concern. His full attention was on the man Parrot had gripped tightly in his arms, sword held to his neck.
They had Branzy.
“Drop your weapon!” Parrot yelled (oh how he wished he’d listened, it would have been worth it, no matter what it would have cost).
Clown, of course, didn’t. He never gave up so easily (he should have given up this time). “Let Branzy go.”
“Oh, but it’s not that easy, Clown,” Parrot replied. Clown strode forward. Vitalasy had stopped attacking him- he wasn’t sure why (how had he not realized? Of course Vitalasy had been working with Parrot) but he was thankful for it.
Clown edged closer with his shield up, eyes fixed on Branzy from behind his clown mask. “Branzy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good!” Branzy called, so endearingly cheerful even when his life was being threatened (and of course Branzy had been lying. He had never been remotely ‘good’).
“Clown!” Parrot interrupted. “Here’s the deal; you give us each two hearts or Branzy dies!”
Clown hesitated, then did math in his mind. Branzy… how many hearts did he have now? He was safe on five or six, wasn’t he? And there were five of them, which meant he gave up ten hearts or Branzy gave up one. And Clown could give him hearts later (Branzy wasn’t on six. Or even five. He’d been on far lower, and Clown regretted ever thinking Branzy would be fine).
“I’m not giving you hearts, Parrot.”
“You’re going to let Branzy die?” Parrot questioned, worryingly surprised. Why was he so shocked that Clown wouldn’t give him hearts right away? It didn’t add up (why hadn’t he realized, how had he been so careless).
Branzy looked uncharacteristically terrified, which was the thing that made Clown pause. Branzy had been threatened before- but something seemed different this time (something was very different, and Clown cursed himself for not realizing what it was sooner).
“Branzy, you’re on five hearts, right?” Clown asked slowly.
That was the moment everything changed, at least for Clown (he should have known, he should have known-).
Because Branzy shook his head.
“How many?” Clown said. He hadn’t been dreading the answer; it had to be four, then. And four was fine (it wasn’t fine, it hadn’t been fine).
Branzy glanced nervously at Parrot, who nodded smugly. Then he opened his mouth and said the single (that was ironic, wasn’t it?) word that would haunt Clown forever. “One.”
“What!?” Clown froze, time seeming to slow. How- how had Branzy gotten to one heart!? “What- no, Branzy? What?”
“That’s right, Clown,” Parrot smiled cruelly. “You give us hearts or he dies.”
Anything. Anything for Branzy to live. He dropped his shield and reached into the air, wincing as he pulled lives away from himself. Each transfer felt like a part of you was being torn away, a logical feeling given that that was exactly what was happening. But any pain was worthwhile if the alternative was Branzy dying permanently.
(It wasn’t enough. It never would have been enough. No matter what he’d done, it would never have been enough.)
“Clown, don’t!” Branzy yelled, violet eyes panicked now (oh, how he wished he could see those eyes one more time). “It’s not worth-“
“Branzy, quiet,” Clown interrupted. He winced internally when Branzy fell silent, afraid. Scared of him. But he couldn’t let Branzy die.
Parrot was smiling as Clown approached him, holding out a single glowing wither star, contained within was a life. Branzy’s eyes darted around and he tried to say something, but Parrot pressed the sword closer.
Clown felt his heart drop and his eyes narrowed. But as Parrot assured him, “One wrong move and he is dead.” Clown nodded, every trained instinct screaming. What he was doing went against everything he fought for, but he couldn’t let them kill Branzy.
“Clown-” Branzy choked out, blood (the first of so much blood to come) painting a dripping red line across his throat as it was pressed against the sword by the movement of talking.
“Branzy, stop talking!” Clown insisted (why had he told Branzy to stop, oh what he would give to hear that voice again, to listen to him talk forever). But then he’d just wanted Branzy to stay unharmed- the slightest injury could kill him now, his light skin pale from weakness and eyes filled with fear (whether it had been fear of Clown or Parrot, they’d never know now).
Branzy cringed backwards into Parrot, who didn’t even react, hand still extended to grab the heart Clown was giving him.
Slowly, the transfer happened- one heart, two, three, ten. Clown watched carefully the whole time, making sure Parrot wasn’t hurting Branzy (it hadn’t mattered in the end, it had happened anyways).
Clown would never forget the next few seconds.
Parrot’s hold on Branzy released, the sword pulled sideways but not through Branzy’s throat. Instead the metal glinted as it twisted away. Clown was flooded with sweet relief- Branzy was okay (SAVE HIM, SAVE HIM, SAVE HIM-).
Branzy called Clown’s name with that beautiful voice, his body sagging as the tension flowed out of it (NOTICE IT, NOTICE IT, NOTICE IT-)
Clown rushed forward as Branzy did to embrace his lover (NOT YET, NOT YET, SAVE HIM-).
Branzy stopped running, eyes widening in shock at something Clown hadn’t seen yet, frozen in that single image that would haunt Clown’s dreams for forever to come (YOU’VE FAILED, YOU’VE FAILED, YOU’VE FAILED HIM).
And Clown looked down to see the faint blue masked by scarlet of the bloodstained sword whose tip poked out of Branzy’s chest.
And time stopped.
Branzy fell to the ground unceremoniously (Clown had failed him. Clown had failed Branzy) as Parrot’s sword was pulled uncaringly out of his body, revealing Parrot standing there. “Should’ve dropped your weapons, Clown.”
Clown stood deadly still, in the way that he knew terrified the others, but this time it wasn’t an act of aggression (yet). He stared blankly at Branzy’s limp form lying unmoving on the ground, crimson staining his purple jacket a dark, wet magenta. Blood still trickled from his throat and oozed out of his chest (Red was supposed to be Clown’s color, void damn it all).
Parrot was running as soon as he’d spoken, knowing Clown was going to be furious (and rightfully so, but he simply hadn’t made his way to rage yet). Luckily for Parrot, Clown was kneeling in disbelief next to Branzy, numb as he lovingly cradled Branzy’s body in his arms.
His eyes didn’t stray from his lover as he sat motionless on the field, the grass still swaying rhythmically in the wind. Nothing else seemed to have changed. Everything was the same, but Brazy was… Limp. Dead. The words didn’t feel real. They didn’t apply to Branzy, his Branzy (they applied to everyone else, when he’d torn them apart for ever daring to hurt Branzy).
Clown stood up slowly, gripping Branzy. He was still warm (his Branzy was so full of warmth, so full of life, always moving, he wasn’t meant to be still) in Clown’s grasp. The trickling of blood was slowing gradually, but crimson already coated the ground. Clown had to ignore it to keep up his calm exterior. He couldn’t afford to break down out here, someone would take advantage of it (and wasn’t that just pathetic? But that’s how Lifesteal was).
He walked carefully back towards the casino, staring down in disbelief at Branzy. Shock slowly turned to despair and Clown swallowed down the taste of salt, an emotional mask joining his physical one in a doomed attempt to maintain his deadly exterior.
It was a failed attempt from the start (of course it had been doomed. There was something about Branzy that made him act differently, emotionally, irrationally), and once Clown was back inside the casino his mask was torn off, his usually stoic face contorted in grief as tears finally came.
And later, when he was sitting numbly again, his tears run dry and his shaking breaths turned to deep rage, he vowed was going to tear every one of them apart for taking Branzy from him.