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He felt exhausted.
His body felt like lead, and the tips of his fingers were numb. He feels like he's bleeding, but he knows he isn't. He has to remind himself he's in the present.
What can he feel… He can feel his sheets. Bedsheets. Not the ones from home, though. They're softer, more comforting. His wrist hurts a little, he notes. He felt the fabric of his shirt. And moisture from his sweat. He cringes slightly at the feeling, but tries not to get distracted.
What else?
He can hear the small humming of a fan, and his own breathing . He can smell some kind of scent, like the ones used in hotels to make the rooms nicer. He smells alcohol, the stench still faintly lingering on some of his clothes. His mouth goes dry and he swallows, derailing those thoughts while he can.
What else, what else?
He can feel the secure weight of his necklace, and he can feel his earrings that he must have forgotten to take out. Ok. Okay, he's doing good. Good.
He tries moving, starting with his fingers. They twitch a little, before he wiggles them out. It's a slow process, but he regains himself, grounding himself back in reality. Back in the present.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, squinting slightly to adjust himself, and sitting up. It was a slow process, and he debated if he should even move, but he sits up, leaning on the frame. His muscles feel stiff as he stretches his arms out over his head.
His hands are shaking. He can feel them shaking.
Shit.
He should have expected this, really. Suddenly stopping with his drinking. He felt nauseous, sweaty. Weak. His fingers itched to grab the flask he no longer had with him. It was late at night, he could get away with finding a bar-
He shakes his head. No, no. He needs to stop this train of thought. He feels sweaty and it makes him uncomfortable, having his clothes and bedsheets stick to him. He pushes the blankets away, the cool air making him shiver. His clothes still felt gross, but he didn't feel like changing. He'll be fine. Even though the feeling is absolutely horrid. Sucking in a breath, he looks out the window where the light of the silver, broken moon shined through.
He couldn't sleep. That wasn't a shock. He likes to think he's getting better, after all he's been sober for a few weeks now. Or at least he thinks it's been a few weeks. He can't be sure. It's hard to follow how much time has passed. A lot has happened.
He swallows, feeling a stinging in his throat. His limbs felt heavy, and his eyes were tired. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. He's used to it, but… he thinks back to the apathy, and that's enough for him to stand and pace around. His limbs protested, but soon enough he was able to ignore the numb feeling. He hadn't been taking his meds. He probably left them at one of their previous locations. He knows it's gonna be a bitch to deal with on top of him stopping drinking. He's been too focused on everything else to worry about himself. He's a lot more exhausted than he thought, really. He sighs, shaking his head.
He walks up to the window, a small murder of crows gathered around. He huffs. Of course they followed him here, too. That's fine. They've practically made him a part of their flock. He noticed a few new ones, though.
Of course, he'd never admit that he could recognize the birds. Ruby and Yang have even been teasing him, saying he's a corvid magnet. And, well, they weren't exactly wrong.
He had the urge to open the window and go for a fly. He doesn't usually turn into a crow unless he needs to. Like when he kept his eyes out for Ruby before he eventually joined her. How long ago was that ? Surely it couldn't have been too long, right? It feels like ages, but…
He shakes his head, grabbing his coat and exiting the room he was staying in, not bothering to change his clothes. He doubts anyone will be out- and even if they are, he doesn't really give too much of a shit right now.
All he needs is to sit on the roof and think for a while.
He swallows, still feeling shaky on his feet. His hands twitched and he felt hyper aware of his surroundings. You can never be too sure that you're completely safe, but… He feels almost anxious. Silently, he cursed at himself for being a drunkard. The road to recovery is a bumpy one or some shit like that. It sure doesn't feel like recovery. Alcohol was just one of his many, many bad habits. He's got dozens of more he needs to drop. Some not as bad, some that will be just as hard to drop.
He sighs as he arrives to the roof. Up here, he could see all the lights. All the buildings. And even though he stood above some of the towering buildings, he felt incredibly small. He walks up to the edge, sitting down with his legs dangling. If he fell he could die. Of course, he could shift into a bird, but… He shakes his head, and the murder of crows find him, settling down with him on the rooftop. Without really thinking, he strokes the inky black feathers with a certain gentleness he wasn't used to.
Birds… were even weaker than humans. It was a strange thought. Something swelled inside of him, knowing that this animal trusted him to not destroy it's fragile existence. He didn't know if it was a good feeling or not.
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Here he is, being sentimental over a stupid little crow.
...
It's gonna be a long night.
Clover's been awake for a while.
He just… didn't feel tired. It wasn't too uncommon. He usually stays up late to train, so he doesn't have a very solid sleep schedule. His teammates are still sleeping, probably. The room is mostly quiet, and the curtains have been closed, blocking out the lights of Atlas. He sits still for a moment, collecting himself as he slowly steps out of bed. If he's not going to sleep, he may as well do something useful with his time. Maybe he'll train- even if he wasn't asked to. He exits the room with a sigh, slowly closing the door with a small click.
And out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone enter the elevator. That's strange… He furrows his brows, straightening his stance and pursuing whoever just entered the elevator. It may just be one of the kids, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
He waits a few seconds before taking the next elevator, not wanting to rush and alert whoever was sneaking around. Then once he enters, he sighs, realizing he wouldn't know what floor the elevator even went to.
He stares at the buttons for a moment, before taking a lucky guess and selecting the roof. Something told him that's where he'd find them.
He waits silently, tapping his fingers against his leg as he waits. The elevators weren't slow by any means, but the silence of everything made it seem longer than it actually was.
He exits the elevator, and opens the heavy door, cool air immediately greeted him as he does so, the weight of the door making it slam behind him. He looks at the door, before looking out and seeing none other than the huntsman Qrow Branwen. Of course, who else would it be?
The huntsman doesn't flinch at the sound of the door, but the birds around him- which Clover had only just noticed- startled, but didn't fly away.
The lights illuminate the man, sitting so close to the edge. A chill of cold air blows by, and he only just realizes he didn't bring a jacket. It's not too bad- he'd survive. He begins walking towards the other man.
"Hey, lucky stars." Qrow greets without turning around. He stops a foot or so away from him.
"How'd you know it's me?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Dunno… Lucky guess." He hears the smirk in Qrow's voice, causing him to smile as well.
"Looks like your luck's turning, huh?" He smiles, and sits down next to Qrow. The man lets out a huff of a laugh, but nothing more. He could tell at this point that something was wrong, but Qrow can talk when he's ready.
Still, he couldn't help but curse his pounding heart. He felt like a school boy, having some silly crush. Even the word 'crush' made it feel all the more childish. And at first, he didn't think much of it. Qrow was attractive, he knew that his feelings would be over in a few days.
Turns out he was wrong.
At first he thought it was just how attractive the man is. But he didn't anticipate he'd start to love things besides his pretty face. He was such a complex person, a mystery with walls built up around him. He was sarcastic, funny, and kind. But also cold and calculated. There was just so much to him.
But he doesn't know… He doesn't want to pursue Qrow if it turns out his feelings are wrong. He's never had a serious relationship before. Sure, he's dated people before, but… He didn't want to mess anything up with Qrow.
So he's never really thought about serious romance. What if what he's feeling is admiration? Or just lust? How would he have a good relationship based off of feelings that might go away? He hasn't known Qrow for that long, so it makes sense it might not be permanent, right? But this is the first time he's seriously considered a serious relationship. He doesn't know... It's a lot to think about, but...
Qrow looked stunning.
He always looked pretty. But he truly seemed to be in his element, not caring about anything. It was almost vulnerable. His heart swelled at that small show of trust. He wanted to hug him, or kiss him maybe. But it's too soon. He doesn't want to push his boundaries. And using his luck almost feels like cheating.
He stares at Qrow, silently surprised the corvid hasn't caught him yet. He has such nice skin… and beautiful eyes. Like velvety wine. There were some dark bags beneath his eyes, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and feeling them.
Still, even this tired, spaced out Qrow was gorgeous to him. Slowly, he looks away, heat crawling up his cheeks for staring so hard when he was right next to him. Stupid, stupid Clover!!
Qrow idly plays with his necklace, another crow landing on his shoulder, that he doesn't really notice. He seems to be in his own little world. Qrow blinks, glancing over, before looking back out at the sight.
"So what are you doing out here at this time, lucky charms?" He asks. "You don't seem like the time to come to the roof in the middle of the night."
"Oh, well… I couldn't sleep. I saw you enter the elevator, too." He shrugs, looking at the murder gathering around him. He had no idea why the man had so many crows surrounding him, but he doesn't comment.
"So you're stalking me, huh?" He teases, a smirk on his lips.
"Oh, hush." He rolls his eyes. "... Off topic, but what's with the birds?"
Qrow looks at the crows, as if just now remembering that they're here.
"Oh… No reason. They follow me everywhere." He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. "They've made me a part of their flock, I guess."
Clover smiles at this, and he recalls seeing crows around him before, though not this much. It was interesting.
"So are you able to understand them? Do you speak crow now?" He teases. Qrow shrugs.
"... Kinda. It's not like a language… I just know what certain calls mean." He glances over.
"Oh, so you're like a disney princess? But with crows?" He smirks, but it drops when he hears Qrow's uncomfortable laugh.
"Yeah, sure." He says, voice slipping back into an uncaring tone. Clover internally curses himself, but he's not even sure what he said.
One of the birds ruffles its feathers before taking off, a few following, but a majority staying with Qrow.
"... So why are you out here, mister Branwen? You never told me."
Qrow hesitates. "Can't sleep."
"Is that it?" He hums, leaning back on his arms.
No answer. He expected as much. He sighs, looking over at the man, and seeing how tired he looks. Qrow usually looked tired, but it was even worse now.
"You know you can talk to me, Qrow." He turns his body over to the other.
"I know… It's just..." He trails off. "Hard to talk about. Heavy subject, I guess." He shrugs, his hand moving to his chest, before he stops himself and awkwardly drops it back to his side.
Ah. That's the problem. Clover should have realized this sooner- an alcoholic just up and dropping so suddenly would cause… side effects.
"Are you feeling sick? You look paler than usual."
Qrow chuckles at that.
"Yeah, I'm dying doc." He rolls his red eyes, a small smile on his face. He notices it doesn't reach his eyes.
"... Do you need anything?"
"... No. I'll be fine. Stop worrying so much." He waves his hand. "Or I'll send my crows after you."
"Can you do that?"
"Maybe. Crows never forget a face- if they make enemies the whole murder will be able to know them, even if they haven't seen the person." Qrow smiles. "So, no, probably not in your case. The worst you'll get is one of them trying to steal that shiny pin of yours. They like shiny things."
Clover smiles at this. He likes listening to the other talk- and he seemed knowledgeable on the subject too.
"Do you like shiny stuff too?" He asks, mostly teasing. Qrow looks away, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think the shapeshifter was blushing.
"Fuck off. Get em', boys." He points his thumb at Clover, but the crows don't react, a few tilting their heads at him. He laughs, and at first Qrow looks annoyed, before chuckling along as well.
Qrow has a nice laugh. He doesn't usually give loud laughs, unless he sees someone he hates fall on their ass or something. But his little chuckles were still genuine, and the way they sounded made his heart beat just a little faster.
Qrow was a lot different than Clover, but he didn't mind that much. He liked the corvid's difference. He's picked up on so many things the man does, be it big or small.
Like how he'll fiddle with his necklace when nothing's happening, or twisting his rings. When he's nervous or embarrassed he'll rub his neck or scratch at his stubble. He usually has a laid back posture, but when he's on missions his posture straightens, always on guard for any sort of fight. When meeting new faces, he always stares for a little too long. Even when he seems distracted, he always picks up on conversations, and even remembers things that Clover wouldn't think twice about. And apparently, he might like shiny things- which is kinda cute.
He just likes Qrow a lot.
"Are you feeling any better?" He asks, voice quiet. Qrow looks at him, a hint of surprise in his face. He looks away quickly.
"... Yeah. I think I am."
"Wanna go back in?"
"Yeah… I think I'm good now. Thanks, golden boy." Saying this, the corvid stands, the birds hopping to follow him until he reaches the door, where they disperse.
They enter the building, shoulders touching. It set sparks in Clover's heart. And though he'd like to hold the man's hand, he knows it's way too soon. Qrow might now even like him back.
But he can wait. For Qrow, he'd wait, even if it may hurt.
Maybe his feelings are real.