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You wouldn’t think Branzy, of all people, would have scars.
See, Branzy wasn’t a fighter. His specialties were varied, from pranking and scamming to redstone, but the thing they definitely weren’t were PVP. He rarely engaged in direct fights of his own choice, and really almost never directly fought anyone. That was Clown’s specialty! Branzy was just the trapper.
In fact, you’d probably think someone like Clown would have a lot more scars. After all, he was always in some sort of battle and he was known for being the server’s top fighter. It was only logical that he would have a few scars here and there.
But Branzy did, in fact, have scars- quite a few, and even more obviously than Clown. The most notable were on his arm, and Branzy swore they were still red with blood that had never quite been washed off his skin.
How he’d gotten them was quite underwhelming, in reality. On a server like Lifesteal, you’d expect some epic battle story, or even a revenge trap! But it hadn’t been either of the two. Branzy hadn’t even been fighting anyone- ironically fitting, actually.
It was meant to be a simple test of a trap he’d planned out beforehand. He’d done it hundreds of times before, and the setup went perfectly, exactly as normal, up until that one moment.
The trap was almost complete, TNT minecarts in place and redstone all laid out in the proper place. Branzy reached out to set the last block in place, which just so happened to be a lit redstone torch. But then he got the tiniest bit too close to the TNT, and-
Uh-oh.
The redstone brushed the TNT the tiniest bit and it dropped into the bottom of the minecart, giving Branzy zero time to react before he was thrown backwards. The ground exploded around him, dirt and grass and metal flying away from the explosion wildly.
His ears rang with the sound of stone breaking around him as everything was thrown outwards. His outstretched arm was sliced with something sharp, and chunks of rubble scratched him as they went by.
Branzy landed hard on his back with a small grunt, arm alight with pain. The rest of him felt awful too, but his arm was burning. He almost didn’t want to look down at what he’d done to himself.
And, well, that was definitely not good.
His arm was covered in blood, deep, ugly scrapes weeping crimson. The color blended with the dirty brown and grey of soil and stone thrown up by the explosion in a way that was probably not great. To make things even worse, tiny rocks in hundreds of shades of rust and metal and asphalt were embedded in the wounds, stabbing him every time he shifted even slightly.
He probably needed to heal that, fast. But the issue was, Branzy hadn’t brought a lot of healing supplies! He’d just been testing a trap, he hadn’t expected to get hurt very badly. Or at all.
Of course, he should have remembered that you always prepared for the worst.
And sure, he could message Clown and ask for healing stuff! That would probably be the smart thing to do. But then Clown would worry, and Clown could get… overprotective. And Branzy didn’t need to worry him over a little injury.
Or… you know, a big injury. But it wouldn’t kill him, so he was perfectly fine! This wouldn’t come back to bite him at all, nope!
Branzy sat up dazedly, wincing at the pain. The destruction in front of him was something he definitely didn’t have time to fix. Well, he just had to hope that nobody minded another crater (it was Lifesteal. They wouldn’t even spare a second thought)!
Branzy stumbled to his feet and looked around. Nobody was in the area at all, so nobody had seen him fail spectacularly. That was great!
But his arm hurt, and it was only getting worse. Again, the best course of action, of course, would be to tell Clown. But since when had Branzy done the reasonable thing? No, the reasonable thing was no fun.
So he headed back to the casino, doing his best to ignore the blinding pain coming from his side. He didn’t need to look at that right now. If he didn’t look at it, it wasn’t a problem, right? Definitely, totally, 100% how that worked.
Branzy snuck carefully into the casino (he might not be able to fight, but he could certainly hide). There had to be bandages somewhere in here, surely! And hopefully Clown would be busy.
Luckily for him, Clown was somewhere else. Where he was, Branzy didn’t know and quite honestly probably didn’t want to know, but for now all that mattered was that he was free to bandage his arm without Clown knowing what he was doing.
Branzy dug out a long roll of cloth bandages from a disorganized chest stashed in the corner of the room. Already wincing at the pain he knew was about to come, he walked over to the sink in the corner of the little room and turned on the water (thankfully clear and steady).
He stuck his arm under the flow- yep, there was the pain, fun! The water ran a dark, rust-red with blood and dirt. After an agonizing few minutes in which his arm felt (quite ironically) like it was on fire, his wounds were slightly cleaner. They certainly weren’t clean, but at least he could wrap them up without as much debris being trapped in them.
His new problem, once his arm was wrapped up, was that Clown would definitely notice a very large, very obvious bandage on his arm. So, how to hide that in a way that wouldn’t make Clown suspicious?
The answer was really quite simple. Branzy was still an absolute genius, though. Anyone who said otherwise was clearly just jealous they weren’t this smart.
Long sleeves! They fit his outfit anyway (they really did look quite nice). He just had to hope Clown wouldn’t question his fashion choices too much (the man dressed in an old-fashioned, ridiculous circus outfit. Branzy didn’t think long sleeves would be too wild in comparison).
Now he just had to hope his arm didn’t get worse. Spoiler alert: ignoring massive wounds that were most definitely infected did not end well. But that was future Branzy’s problem (Future Branzy really, really did not like Present Branzy).
The next week was was a long several days. At least Clown made no comment on Branzy’s new “fashion choice,” but Branzy was fairly sure Clown had noticed the slight dizzy spells he had started to have. He hadn’t said anything though, so Branzy went on pretending nothing was wrong.
He pointedly ignored the fact that he was starting to shiver with fever. Branzy didn’t need to deal with that today, thank you.
Branzy should really have known a mining trip wouldn’t be a great idea in his condition, unsteady and weak as he was. But he wasn’t letting a little thing like an infected wound stop him!
He was lucky he was quite the distance down the tunnel from Clown when he inevitably slipped and knocked his arm into the wall. Branzy let out a quiet yelp and instantly bit his tongue to muffle the noise, automatically grabbing the injury.
Clown still turned worriedly towards him and Branzy dropped his arm to his side to hide what he was doing.
“Branzy, are you alright?” Clown asked suspiciously. Branzy felt his heart jump, only making his slowly growing dizziness grow. Clown had noticed that! That was fine, he could play it off!
“Oh, yeah, I’m great!” Branzy lied easily with a small anxious chuckle, his absolute worst habit. It always clued everyone in when he was lying, which he hated. How was he meant to trick people when he gave his own tricks away!?
“If you’re sure,” Clown replied, not seeming very convinced. But he didn’t ask any more questions, which Branzy was thankful for. Thanks, Clown!
“Yeah, just gonna go check out this section over here!” Branzy called casually, hoping the nerves, tension, and weakness filling his body weren’t obvious in his voice. He could totally pull this off. Who had ever doubted him?
The tension is his voice was apparently not obvious, or if it was then Clown was choosing not to mention it, because his only reply was an equally casual “alright.”
Once he was around the corner, Branzy collapsed against the rough rock of the wall, out of sight from Clown. His arm was stinging, and he couldn’t go any longer trying to keep up his usual bright personality in front of Clown. Gosh, who knew being happy could be so tiring?! (Or maybe the exhaustion was the fever that Branzy definitely didn’t have. But he wasn’t going to think about that).
He tore off the hurriedly-done bandages and a new wave of nausea hit him at the sight. He swallowed back the taste of vomit and closed his eyes to steady himself.
The wounds had gotten much worse. Dirt was caked in the dried blood, making for an unpleasant sight and a painful sensation. Yellowish pus rose up in bubbles clinging to the edges of the cuts, which were barely dried over and still erupted in pain whenever one of the rocks trapped inside them moved.
Branzy couldn’t just let this heal and be okay. He had to get help or it would only get worse (and it was already pretty bad- he was starting to get some sort of headache, which- not ideal. And that wasn’t to mention the fever and dizziness).
But did he? No, of course not, who did you take him for, someone with actual self-preservation skills?! His only help was Clown, and Clown would probably kill him for hiding this from him. And he could barely find the courage to talk to Clown on a good day. This was decidedly not a good day.
So Branzy clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and wrapped his arm back up, pretending that blackness didn’t tinge the edges of his vision. He could pretend. Acting was one of his few great strengths.
He gasped quietly at the way the wounds stung, but he couldn’t make a sound or Clown would definitely hear.
Branzy stood up, letting himself lean against the wall for a minute until the dizziness passed. Once it did, he reluctantly crept back into the main tunnel Clown was in, trying and failing to put on a fake smile.
“You all good?” Clown asked. Branzy’s feverish paranoia shot up- why was he asking!? Had Branzy accidentally made a noise of pain? Had he finally decided to ask about all the dizzy spells?
“Oh, I’m alright!” Branzy assured him, not turning towards Clown. He didn’t want Clown seeing the obvious grimace on his face.
“You know, you’re a terrible liar, Branzy,” Clown signed, an affectionate note in his voice. Branzy turned slowly, glancing down at his arms- the sleeves were still there. His head swam and everything was spinning, but he was fine! Right?
“Uhm- what? I don’t know what you’re talking about! I wouldn’t lie to you-” Branzy rambled. He hadn’t lied to Clown lately, had he? He didn’t lie to Clown! That was like a death sentence! And Clown didn’t seem like he was about to kill Branzy, but you never know!
Clown stared at him for several seconds, then pulled off his mask and set it down. Branzy watched its movement nervously, then his glazed purple eyes flicked back to Clown’s sharp, worried red ones. “Branzy, you look like a ghost.”
“I’m fine!” Branzy assured him. His burning arm, pounding head, and burning body would disagree, but really Branzy would be alright. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they had plenty of resources, they could afford to spare a few, but you never knew when they would be needed! What if a war broke out and Clown needed healing potions and they’d been wasted on Branzy?
“Really, I’m…” A wave of dizziness painted the edges of his vision with dancing black spots, creeping inwards. He felt himself swaying slightly, head suddenly feeling very heavy. “Oh… pretty…”
A giant black blob grew steadily larger in Branzy’s view and it took him several seconds to realize that this one was Clown. “Really, Clown, I’m okay-”
The blackness at the corners of Branzy’s vision were growing again. His skin prickled like he was back in the middle of the explosion, tingling sensations running up and down his arm, which still felt like it was on fire. And not just on fire, but aching agonizingly, almost like there were things crawling inside his wounds (which he knew wasn’t true, because he’d made sure of that much at least). The rough bandages pressed tightly against the swollen cuts and he wanted to rip them off, but he couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want Clown to know.
“Branzy?” Clown called his name faintly, fearfully. Fear was an emotion Branzy had never heard in Clown’s voice before, and he didn’t know quite what to make of it. What did Clown have to be afraid of?
Branzy didn’t even have the drive to tell Clown he was okay anymore. He couldn’t keep lying, and besides, he just wanted to sleep. Escaping the pain sounded… very nice…
“BRANZY!” Clown yelled with such force that he scrambled up to his feet instantly, automatically (oh, he’d sat down sometime. Huh). Were they being attacked, or… Oh, he was falling over again.
He landed on something much softer than the hard stone ground he should have fallen onto. Worried eyes the color of roses stared down at him, red lips stark against pale skin as Clown said something to Branzy that he was too unfocused to hear.
He thought he must have fallen asleep, because he was lying on something soft when he drifted back into consciousness, and everything hurt, even more than before.
Branzy opened his eyes slightly, waves of heat washing over him. It felt like he was submerged in the lava ocean of the Nether; so, so warm but unable to do anything about it.
He groaned unhappily, barely aware of his surroundings. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes or do anything besides lay there, feeling only his body, every part of it screaming in pain or fever.
There was a quiet mumbling near him that he couldn’t make out the words of, and then his arm was being touched, moved, and the rocks he’d never gotten out of the wounds were stabbing into irritated flesh and his mouth was open. Maybe he was screaming. He didn’t know.
He drifted away gratefully into the blackness of sleep, although not for long.
Branzy woke disoriented, drenched in cold sweat. He was half-convinced he was dreaming, especially when Clown leaned over him and draped a cold, wet rag over his forehead. “Oh, Clown, have I ever told you your eyes are gorgeous?”
Dream-Clown blinked in surprise. Why would he be surprised? Was he truly so oblivious to his own beauty? “Thank you,” he replied simply, cheeks flushing slightly red, matching those beautiful eyes.
“Mhm,” Branzy hummed. “They match your lips,” he added, staring at Clown’s face, which contorted indecisively, flashing through surprise and adoration before finally settling on embarrassment.
He went cherry-red at Branzy’s comment and replied with a meek, “Really?”
Branzy wanted to kiss those lips. They stood out, bright crimson clashing with Clown’s ashen skin, large and pursed and pretty and he was down so bad for Clown-
“Can we kiss?” he asked bluntly, because gosh was Clown gorgeous. Clown surprisingly didn’t blush or hesitate to reply. Definitely a dream, then. Real-Clown would never be so nice.
“Only if you promise to drink this.” Branzy looked curiously at the potion Clown was holding out to him. Anything for Clown. He trusted Clown with his life (and his love). And nothing could hurt him in a dream!
“Okay!” Branzy said cheerfully, downing the potion unhesitatingly in one giant swig. Clown’s hand darted out to grab it and tilt it away from Branzy.
“Don’t choke on it!” True to Clown’s warning, Branzy nearly instantly started to cough harshly as he struggled to swallow all the potion he’d just drunk. “Branzy!”
Branzy managed to slowly choke it down. Clown watched him anxiously, eyes darting around quickly but always focused on Branzy. He wondered vaguely if Real-Clown would ever care about him as much as this Dream-Clown did.
The next time Branzy woke, his head was thankfully absent of the fog that had been plaguing it for days. Which really wasn’t a good thing, because that meant that he realized just how badly he’d messed up. Oh, Clown was not gonna be happy.
Well, time to see just how quickly Clown would kill him!
Branzy slowly opened his eyes, sitting up and looking around groggily. He was laying in a makeshift bed in a room he barely recognized. It was undoubtedly a tiny storage room they’d carved below the floor of the casino, never meant to be anything permanent, but it had been redecorated while Branzy was sick.
Clown sat beside his bed- had he been caring for Branzy? That was nice of him! And also not great, because that meant Branzy would probably have to pay him back somehow- Clown wouldn’t do that for free.
“Branzy, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Clown demanded immediately, not harshly. He sounded like... well, like a worried lover if Branzy was being honest.
“I was fine!” Branzy insisted unconvincingly (especially given that his arm was aching slightly and he still felt shaky). “Just a little cold-”
“Branzy,” Clown sighed, pressing his free hand to his face in exasperation. “You passed out.”
“Totally fine!” Branzy repeated. Sure, maybe he’d passed out, but he could have managed it! Probably! And he was definitely doing fine hiding his injury-
“Branzy, you were rambling about how pretty I was,” Clown groaned with a wince. Branzy didn’t see how that was a bad thing; he would ramble about that when he wasn’t sick, just not to Clown. Oh. That, uh. Hadn’t been a dream, had it.
“Okay, I will not apologize for that- I mean, um-” Branzy scrambled for words, his face turning red now. He definitely didn’t have a massive crush on Clown! Not Branzy!
“And care to explain your arm, Branzy?” Clown continued, skipping over Branzy’s reply completely. Uh, yeah. Shoot. His arm. Of course Clown had probably been the one to fix it, and it had been bad.
“I didn’t want to use up our supplies?” Branzy explained meekly. It was an awful excuse now that he said it aloud, and both of them knew it.
Clown stared, then yelled at him. But it wasn’t a yell of anger; his voice was laced with terror. “We have plenty of supplies, Branzy!”
Branzy didn’t have a reply to that. “You scared me.” Clown admitted, cheeks tinging like roses once again, a very different red to the bloodstained crimson of his costume.
“Oh,” Branzy said simply. Clown had never struck him as the compassionate type, but he supposed he really should have picked up on the hints by now. “You really… care?”
“Of course I care, Branzy!” Clown retorted, edging closer to and taking Branzy’s hand in his own. Branzy looked down, electricity racing over his body as their skin touched, because Clown didn’t have his gloves on-
Clown stared down at their connected hands, and then looked up, just as Branzy did. Branzy coughed and looked away awkwardly. A matching red blush spread across both their faces- neither was quite used to such closeness (and neither quite wanted to admit they wanted that closeness).
“I’m sorry,” Branzy admitted quietly. Clown’s breath shuddered from an emotion Branzy couldn’t place.
“Branzy, I- I thought you were going to die,” Clown confessed. He supposed it made sense that Clown wouldn’t want his ally to die (or maybe there was something more. Was it possible Clown had another reason for worrying? No. He didn’t dare let himself hope).
“Just another day on Lifesteal, right?” Branzy tried to joke. But Clown didn’t laugh. Well, that was… awkward.
“I really don’t want you to die.”
Branzy had to admit, he couldn’t really deny that Clown cared anymore. No matter how hard he tried, there was no explanation for Clown’s words besides the obvious truth (the one he didn’t want to admit). “Well, uh, thank you-”
“I’m serious, Branzy.”
“Really, thank you, I do appreciate it,” Branzy assured him. He took a deep breath in and decided he had nothing left to lose- and so he asked the question. This would probably backfire horribly, but-
“Do you love me, Clownpierce?”
Clown stared at him, face unreadable behind his mask. Then, wordlessly, he lifted the mask, revealing beautiful cherry-colored eyes and cheeks flushed peach.
“I do love you.”
“How much?” Branzy smirked cheekily, feeling his heart flutter with nerves, like the rush of adrenaline during a thrilling dash for his life. Romance was a dash for his life, really, just in a different way.
Clown inched closer silently until Branzy was frozen, sure he was going to have a weapon pulled on him any moment. But instead, he simply whispered something conspiratorially in a voice so quiet Branzy had to lean in to hear.
It was only once Branzy was being pulled into Clown’s lips that he realized the words that had been said.
“This much.”
‘This much’ was quite a lot, really. Clown’s touch sent shivers down Branzy’s spine (much more enjoyable shivers than fever shivers, he had to say). He melted into the warmth of Clown’s lips on his. The feeling was like a fuzzy blanket, giving him comfort he hadn’t known he needed, but desperately craved.
Branzy was sure this moment would last in his memory forever. It was impossible to forget the tingles racing through him, setting his nerves alight with pleasure.
His new scars would always be red, not with blood, but with love.