Drake’s hand trembled in his. “I know it was the lesser of two evils, but… I still did it, and I can’t get it out of my head. Now you also have his mark on you, and it’s my fault,” he said in a tiny whisper.
“It hurt, but I’m okay now, I really am, Drake. You can stop avoiding me.” Clover smiled despite it being the last thing he wanted to do.
Drake pulled his hand away. “Stop saying that. You’re too good. You always try to excuse people, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got stained by this monster because of me. I’m not a good influence on your life. I pulled you into a suicidal mission, just because I didn’t want to go alone, and you’re excusing Pyro even though he just choked you.”
Clover groaned. He really didn’t want to get into an argument right now. He wanted Drake back. The Drake who had so much passion for him, and who remained focused on Clover. The Drake who had kissed him with so much passion. But instead, he found out Drake thought he was ‘stained’.
“I wanted to go.” Clover grabbed Drake’s sleeve, but when Drake retreated, the fabric pulled up his arm, revealing round dots of red on the skin. Clover wasn’t sure what he was looking at until he realized he’d seen them before. Two, on Drake’s back. Drake had told him they were cigarette burns. So where did he get new ones? The worst thing was Clover knew the answer. “Drake…”
Drake pulled away as if he’d been shocked by electricity, already scrambling to his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”
Clover dared look straight into Drake’s eyes and followed his lead, getting up as well. “It does.”
“Stop. I’m serious. I don’t want to talk,” Drake snapped, stepping away as if he didn’t want Clover’s touch.
Clover spread his arms but then let them fall. “Fine. I guess we can all just hate each other.”
Drake exhaled. “I don’t hate you,” he said but left the room, shutting it behind him. A few heartbeats later, Clover heard the door to the apartment open and close too.
The bastard left him on his own.
He let out a roar of fury and pressed his forehead to the wall. A dead guy hung in the living room, and all they could do was have fights with each other. He hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he was going through, because Drake was too wounded to hear any of it, and he’d still managed to scare Drake off.
“Fucking useless,” he muttered.
Moments later, a voice.
“Clover?”
Clover chewed on his lip in a struggle to not lose it too and leave Tank to deal with everything himself. Once the need to cry subsided somewhat, Clover moved to the living room, where Tank glanced at him from above a hole in the floor.
“Found the secret compartment, but it’s cleaned out,” he said, showing an empty metal box in the underfloor space.
Clover sighed, eager to take his mind off Pyro’s hurtful words and Drake’s avoidance. “Fuck. I guess that’s it then for Mr. Hake.” He met the dead man’s gaze, nauseated at the thought that he might find Drake like this one day.
“Yeah,” Tank said, carefully putting the floorboard into place. He then covered it with the carpet and leaned against the wall. With his shoulders low and a puffiness underneath his eyes, he looked tired. “I’m sorry about this mess. I’m not doing a good job at keeping us all together, am I?”
Clover let out a choked laugh. “It’s hardly your fault. You’re the one stable person here, picking up everyone’s mess.”
Tank’s mouth twisted into a weak smile, but he reached for Clover and pulled him down to sit against him, with the safety net of his arms keeping Clover warm. “Just us now. Left on the battlefield.”
Clover instantly melted into Tank with a deep sigh of relief. They’d had their share of spats, but with Tank Clover didn’t need to feel like he was balancing on the edge of a knife. “Drake’s been burning himself. With cigarettes. Didn’t want to talk about it, obviously, so he left.”
Tank huffed and banged his head against the wall. He stayed silent for several moments, but his fingers kept rubbing Clover’s flesh through his clothes. “You’re the only one who’s coping with this mess.”
“Not really. It’s you who keeps me sane.” Clover put his head on Tank’s shoulder, unfazed by the corpse in the middle of the room. “Pyro hates me. Boar left that night because of me. I’m really embarrassed. We’ve had sex last night, and he said some horrible things to me just now.”
Tank’s chest expanded rapidly. It happened whenever he was trying to hold in his immediate thoughts and think of something else to say. “You couldn’t know what would happen with Boar. It was an error of judgment. You shouldn’t feel guilty. You did your best, and if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have even known what happened to any of you. You’re very brave.”