high rise hearts ☆ lifesteal smp au

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊 ✦

𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲: normal oneshot
𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀: clownzy/branzypierce
𝘁𝘄: n/a
𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: n/a
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁: clown tries to drink off his latest breakup, but while he's at the bar he meets someone special

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝐏𝐎𝐕: clown

Clown's rather ordinary vehicle pulls into the parking lot of a shady Brooklyn bar. It was the one closest to his house, and it didn't serve poison, so he didn't really mind the flickering of the obviously cheap, brightly colored neon sign marking its entrance or the overflowing dumpster sitting lopsided against the graffitied brick wall.
A ragged-looking man sat near the dumpster on a flattened cardboard box, probably homeless judging by the labeled tin cup next to him, and Clown did his best not to look like he was staring before the man could beg him for change. He debated just putting him out of his misery, but decided against it. He was already wallowing in enough misery himself, and if he couldn't be free of it, neither could this guy.
He adjusts his mask so it fits more smoothly over his face- it's surprisingly steamy for a spring night, and the snug-fitting plastic doesn't help with the warmth. He always wears it in public, even if it's easier to recognize than his real face- he feels more comfortable with the anonymity, and it's become a habit anyways.
While he walks through the nearly-empty asphalt lot, navigating around the few cars of the bar's patrons, he pulls out his phone and rereads the last messages from his latest ex, one of a long list of former boyfriends and girlfriends he'd accumulated over the years.

> wtf claudia
> claudiee: what?
> claudiee: thats kinda rude, whatd i do
> u know what u fucking did
> claudiee: wdym bro
> fuckin cheater
> i saw u back there with him yk?
> claudiee: oh
> claudiee: that
> yeah right
> "that"
> dont act like its not a big deal
> bc it fuckin is
> claudiee: chill out
> claudiee: lol
> dont tell me to fuckin CHILL OUT
> u cant expect me to stay calm or whatever
> after you just fucking cheated on me
> liar ass bitch
> were fucking done

He hadn't given Claudia a chance to respond after that, just blocked her. He'd been done watching her spew her shit, he was done with everyone trying to spew their shit at him. He was so done with love, he told himself. It always had to fucking end like that, that was all there was to it. Right?
He'd tried everything, from barhopping to dating apps, and nothing seemed to work. There was absolutely nobody in this world who seemed to be able to provide basic affection for more than a month without cheating or ghosting him or deciding they'd had enough and dumping him over the phone. It sucked, the world sucked, all of it could just fucking burn in hell.
But at the same time, he was sorry that it hadn't lasted longer, the feeling of having someone beside him, someone who'd claimed they would support him no matter what. No matter what. The irony of it struck Clown as funny in all the wrong ways, and he gave a dry chuckle at the thought.
He wasn't sure whether he was about to explode or about to cry. He supposed he was doing a bit of both as he approached the bar's entrance, shadowed by its low striped awning, and pulled open the door by its slightly crusty handle. The moonlight outlined the contours of his head like a faint silver halo, giving him a strangely ethereal look. The effect disappeared once the door swung shut behind him, followed by the dinging of the bell just above the doorway, announcing his arrival.
The bar's counter was mostly empty, mirroring the occupancy of the parking lot. A guy he didn't recognize was slumped at the counter next to an almost-drained glass of beer, no doubt drunk off his ass and probably half asleep. The bartender was wiping down the counter of the drinks station, his earbuds plugged in. A few other patrons sat in their own faraway corners, immersed in their own separate worlds.
Clown sank into the nearest barstool, a reasonable distance away from the other patrons. The low-quality leather cushion, dyed what might have once been bright red, sank beneath him, and Clown could feel some of the larger rips in the fabric that had surfaced on top. It was a little uncomfortable, but tolerable.
The bartender looked over, recognizing the infamous mask. He was young, but he had the tired, aged look of a thirty-year-old man, with sagging eyes and creases already forming in his forehead. "Hey, the usual?" Clown gave a lifeless nod, and with a similar lack of energy he moved to prepare the drink.
A few seconds later, his glass of amber-tinted, frothy beer was set on the table with a clink. Clown extended a hand over the scratchy wooden countertop to pull the drink closer, the sides of the glass already dripping with cool condensation, and used his other to fish through his pockets for his wallet. It wasn't there.
Clown let out a string of obscenities under his breath and asked the bartender to excuse him for a moment. He stood up and patted his other pockets, all empty. Maybe it was in his car. It better be, he thought to himself, his obvious irritation hidden behind his mask. As if this day couldn't get any worse.
He pulled out his car keys with a violence undeserving of the action, and flung open the door so forcefully it bounced back and almost hit him when he leaned inside to check the driver's seat. Luckily, he found his wallet in the dusty little nook beneath the dashboard, hidden by a crinkled supermarket receipt. He grabbed it with a grumble of annoyance and stalked back to the bar to pay. At least he hadn't been robbed.
The bartender managed a look of nervous pity for him, probably realizing he wasn't in the best mood. Clown would have glared at him but the mask prevented that, so he just slid over a bill without looking at him again.
Once the bartender went back to scrubbing down the drinks station, Clown cast a quick glance around to confirm that nobody was watching. Nobody was, so he carefully lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth, then brought the glass to his lips, taking a small, careful sip. The beer fizzed nicely on his tongue, and the feeling soothed his jumbled thoughts a little.
The bell just behind him gave a loud jingle, catching Clown off guard. He quickly lowered the mask over his face and roughly set the glass on the counter. He spun around on his seat for a better look at the customer, and was greeted with the familiar face of one of his friends.
Branzy was a fellow member of the Lifestealers, and one Clown had the pleasure of working with occasionally- he'd sometimes help the PMC arrange some of their more complex hits. But he'd never really taken the time to get to know him well, and he certainly hadn't expected him to actively seek him out.
A little less on edge now, he found his voice and managed to make his greeting sound cordial enough: "Hello, Branzy." Branzy gave a nervous smile in return. "Hey Clown." In truth, Clown wished he'd be quick with whatever he was doing here- he didn't feel like talking to anybody, especially not people he knew, with the mood he was currently in.
Branzy took a seat next to him and ordered his beer, and Clown looked up at him through the eye slits of his mask, trying to discern some hint about his purpose from his expression. It was hard- the dark film covering the slits coupled with the dim lighting of the bar didn't give him a very good image.
"Thanks," Branzy told the bartender as he grabbed the cold glass of bubbling alcohol and started to dig through his pockets. "I'll pay." Clown steadied Branzy's hand by grabbing the sleeve of his black hoodie, and although he regretted the motion almost instantly, it being a little too forward for his liking, he held his hand there for a moment longer before awkwardly drawing away, sitting up and pulling out his wallet again. Branzy's arm freezes for a second, almost as if it's still in his grasp, before coming to a rest on his lap.
He slid the required amount over to the bartender, who took it with a blank stare and shoved it in a drawer beneath the counter. "Oh, thanks Clown- I could have paid though..." Branzy turns to look at him, and Clown can see he's grateful for the gesture. "Don't worry about it," he replies, and nothing more is said on the matter.
The silence is thick with tension as both of them sip on their beers, neither willing to be the first to speak. Clown sighs to himself, realizing he should probably say something or they'd be sitting there waiting for the entire night. "How'd you find me?" It was the first question that came to mind, although it wasn't the most pressing one. He figured it wouldn't be best to start off the conversation by getting straight to the point.
Branzy seemed to notice he was skirting around the more important question at hand, and so he tried to run around it too: "Oh, I asked around." The reply was supposed to have the light air of small talk, but still felt a little out of place. Clown shifted in his seat, searching gaze fixed on Branzy, inspecting him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. He always did this when he talked to anybody- he usually used the information he gleaned against them, although he wasn't planning to do that today. Another bad habit of his.
Branzy knew he was being examined, and although he tried to mask his thoughts, he failed in hiding some of his nervousness. Clown decided he looked innocent enough, although he was still confused on why he'd come to talk. Might as well ask the question right out. "Why are you here, Branzy?"
Branzy paused for a second, thinking over his words. "I- I guess I just wanted company, really. I didn't have anything to do tonight and... you know, we haven't really talked often. So I figured I'd- say hi. I dunno." His eyes, vibrant purple, looked down into the swirling glass of beer he held over his lap. A few drops of condensed water dripped onto his jeans.
Clown chuckled. He was still half-focused on Branzy's face, and he still couldn't detect anything incriminating about it. If anything, he was just taking in his features by now. "Lonely, are we?" Branzy laughed too, and the sound was soft, almost musical. "I suppose you could say that..."
The other man looked up and caught Clown's gaze, and his eyes seemed to pierce straight through the mask. It gave Clown a weird, fluttery feeling, and he quickly looked down into his own beer glass, taking another sip and trying to stomp out the butterflies. Usually, he was just fine with holding awkward eye contact, but with Branzy it felt so different, different enough to stir some fear within him. He would not fall for this again.
The quiet lasted for a minute longer before Branzy tried to continue the conversation again. "How are you doing today?" He asked, offering a small smile. "Juust great." Clown stretched it out a little to convey sarcasm. "I'm drinking to celebrate my birthday, actually." He realized he probably should have been less truthful about it, but the beer was slowly dragging his inner walls down. He should probably drink a little less, then.
"But your birthday isn't until- oh." Branzy cut himself off, having realized Clown wasn't being serious with that remark. "I'm actually doing horribly." Clown said bluntly. He'd messed up already, so he might as well just be honest. "Oh, I'm- sorry to hear that," Branzy replied, the smile wavering in place as he fumbled for more words. "Uh, what happened?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just broke up with Claudie." With some effort, Clown lifted his gaze enough to see Branzy's face, only to find he was back to staring at his drink. "Oh, your girlfriend? That sucks." Branzy slowly moves his hand in circles, swirling around the beer in his glass, then takes another sip. He winces when he pulls away- Clown knows he's never had a thing for alcohol, but he drinks it anyways. He takes another sip too, hoping it'd chase away the resurfacing memories.
"Yeah. Bitch thought it'd be funny to cheat on me. I guess I'll just have to organize a personalized hit on her, might make me feel a bit better about it." He laughed to himself, although the sound was unmistakably hollow. Branzy laughs along with him, if only to carry on the conversation.
"So you're single again?" He asks, although the answer is obvious. "Yeah, I guess... I'll probably be single forever, honestly. This whole love business is killing me slowly, and... to be honest, I don't think I can handle another relationship." The words spilled out of him against his will, and Clown immediately wished he could retract what he'd said, because Branzy flinched, and his look shifted to that of hurt, just for a moment, before returning back to that fake look from before, tinged with dull sadness. He wasn't sure why it made such an impact on him.
"I- I mean, that's- maybe in the future, I'd consider it again..." Clown stumbled, trying his best to fix what he'd done, and thankfully Branzy seemed to relax a little, if not look the tiniest bit hopeful. He let loose the breath he didn't know he'd been holding- the relief in Branzy's face was infectious in a way, and it seemed to reinforce the shaky belief that he could believe in what he'd just said.
"That's good. If you give it enough of a chance, I think that love could be something worthwhile, you know?" Branzy smiled at him, and it somehow felt more genuine than all the previous ones, and it made him consider the truth of the statement. "Yeah, I guess so." Clown smiled back, and even though Branzy couldn't see, he got the feeling that he knew.

─── ⋅☆⋅ ───

𝗮/𝗻: i was gonna make this a clownzy ex oneshot but i could not think of anything that sounded good for the life of me, so i rewrote it! i like this version a lot better so take whatever this thing is instead lol ☆ bk

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: claudia is an oc of mine and is not based off any real person, lifestealer or otherwise. if you'd like to know why i include ocs, i reccomend checking out the note at the end of the "wingman" oneshot bc i'm lazy lol.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2511