Chapter Text
Wemmbu was honestly baffled by this guy’s confidence. What a stupid bluff. “So— Wait, wait, wait. You’re gonna— what? You’re going to connect our minds?”
“Yeah?” Grim answered, like it was obvious. Like Wemmbu was the crazy one here.
“And you expect me to believe that!?” Wemmbu snapped. He was getting pretty fed up with Grim’s shit.
“Bro— Not yet!” Grim argued back. Well, someone was feeling better. “I’m going to prove it to you with something you can’t deny. But…” He paused, sighing. Wemmbu raised an eyebrow, impatient and agitated. “I can’t do it without you knowing all the…well, risks, and still letting me do it. And for it to be successful you have to trust me. That’s the main risk.”
Wemmbu frowned. “I have to trust an asshole I just met?” he unkindly asked. In the back of his mind, he noted down the brief silence that followed his question.
Then Grim sighed overdramatically—was he covering something up?—and continued with forced calm, “Look, bro, I know you don't believe me, or whatever, but I’m being serious.” Wemmbu scoffed and rolled his eyes. “So,” Grim snapped, his calm voice straining, “you just…tell me what’s not clicking, and I’ll explain, bro. Cause this is all pretty regular to me.”
Was Grim…actually trying to communicate? Holy shit. Wemmbu raised an eyebrow at the prompt, not buying it. “Yeah, okay,” he plainly agreed. “So how are you a Grim Reaper?”
The other end of the call went silent. “...Bro.” Wemmbu didn't feel like laughing at him this time, keeping a standoffish demeanor. “I…” Grim sighed, though this one was a lot less frustrated and more subdued. “I don't really know the full answer to that one, bro,” Grim admitted. Wemmbu opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off. “But! I can answer a little bit.”
“...Well, I’m actually not supposed to… It’s classified,” he said, a bit of trepidation leaking into his normally confident voice. “The full answer is classified even from me, bro, and this is like— my existence we’re talking about.”
“Yap city,” Wemmbu commented, deadpan.
Grim paused at that, then sighing and deciding to ignore it. “Whatever, bro. Anyway, what I do know is that you're literally questioning my whole reason for living. In case you didn't understand why I reacted the way I did.”
Wemmbu blinked in surprise, his irritable expression giving way to bewilderment. “Wait, what? What do you mean your—” He cut himself off, realizing he almost sounded like he believed him for a second—or worse: cared. “That’s sad, man,” he commented indifferently.
“Not really?” Grim replied. He still sounded uncharacteristically genuine. Wemmbu didn't like it. “It's like…yeah, it would probably be pretty sad if I were a human that lived for my job, but I’m not. Grim Reapers are literally created to be Grim Reapers, bro. It’s my purpose, that’s all there is to it.”
Grim went silent, having finished his answer, but Wemmbu didn't snap at him, or scoff, or anything. He didn't have anything to say. “So…does that answer your question, bro?” Grim awkwardly prompted. “I don’t really have any other information to give you on that one.”
…
“...You really expect me to believe that?” Wemmbu didn't sound nearly as stubborn as he should've. He just looked at Grim—or rather the black screen, since he still kept his camera off—with an unamused stare and an eyebrow raised.
Grim didn't explode at him this time. “Yeah, bro,” he calmly answered. “After I prove it. Obviously.”
Wemmbu just looked at him—again, the black screen—for a second. “...Okay.” It was his turn to give a resigned sigh, running a hand down his face. “So…what are you going to do, exactly?” Then Wemmbu raised an accusing finger. “And don’t just say ‘I’m gonna connect our minds, blah, blah, blah.’ Walk me through it.”
It seemed like Grim took a second to consider that. “Hm. Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” You guess? “So, basically, what I’m gonna do is…” He trailed off. …He’s trying to find a word other than “connect,” isn’t he? “...Well, I’m gonna form a connection-” Bingo. “-by, like…building a bridge between our minds.”
“That’s exactly what you said earlier, just with more words,” Wemmbu accused.
Grim sighed. “I’m not done. The process is basically like…well, for starters, I’m not doing all the work. I need you to focus and visualize that bridge too, or the connection won’t be stable. And if the connection isn’t stable, you’ll…”
Grim trailed off. He didn't continue for long enough that Wemmbu wondered if he hung up on him again. “I’ll what?” he prompted.
“...Well, your mind will shatter, and you’ll be lost.”
“...The hell does that mean?”
Grim went silent for a bit, likely mulling over how to explain this. “Technically, you won't be dead. But you’ll be gone, like…” This is all way too complicated, Wemmbu was getting impatient. “Basically, bro-” STOP SAYING THAT. “-it’s like, you’ll be a shell, or a husk, but you won’t be you anymore. That happens because your mind is trying to fight against the pull of my mind, but since mine is stronger—”
“What do you mean YOURS is stronger!?” Wemmbu blurted, cutting him off.
Grim shut that down without missing a beat. “You’re a human—a mortal—who doesn't think…I guess what you’d call magic, is real, bro. I’m an immortal being who was created for holding balance and ferrying souls to their rightful afterlife.” Damn, okay. “Now can I continue?”
Wemmbu went silent. “...D’alright, whatever.”
“Okay, so. Since my mind is stronger, yours will shatter under the pressure, and you’ll be gone. The same thing will happen if you don't stay calm. This is why I need you to trust me.”
The call was quiet after that. When Wemmbu broke the silence, he didn't like how small his voice sounded. “So what’s going to happen when the connection is formed?” A pause. Then a groan. “God, it sounds like I actually believe you…”
Grim breathed out a laugh. “You will soon enough,” he taunted. Then he got back to Serious Explainer mode. “I guess…you’ll be able to hear my thoughts, and vice versa. Not much will happen for your part, but you’ll definitely feel it. I dunno how to describe it.” Well that’s comforting. “And on my part, I’ll be able to see your aura more clearly—I can see it, by the way; it’s really weird—and, uh…”
Wemmbu was positively befuddled. “What do you mean my— Okay, whatever. I was joking about this, but I did technically say that you have to prove this without mind control, buddy.” He leaned back in his chair rather listlessly. Wemmbu was confused and bored. This whole conversation was more Eggchan’s speed—hell, if he were still here, he’d probably be taking notes.
“Bro, this isn’t some parlor trick!” Grim snapped, offended. “But if you’re so worried about it, I promise I won't use any mind control,” he graciously conceded. “Not like I can.”
Wemmbu raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wow. A promise,” he deadpanned. “I’m so relieved.”
“...” Grim sighed. “Okay. Whatever, bro. Let’s just do this.” Wemmbu rolled his eyes, but he didn't say no.
Grim took a deep, grounding breath. “Okay, I need you to focus. Focus on me and look into my eyes. Don’t look away until I tell you to.”
Wemmbu raised an eyebrow. “Uh, buddy? Your camera?”
“...Oh, right.” He sighed. “I guess I can turn it on now.”
Grim’s camera soon turned back on, revealing his neutral—slightly annoyed—expression. Dreads, hoodie, horns and all. And yet Wemmbu only raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and expectant. Grim was baffled. “Bro, what?”
“I still can’t see your eyes, man,” Wemmbu impatiently informed. Grim looked confused for a second before realization crossed his expression. He opened his mouth and closed it, seeming awfully hesitant.
A sigh. “Okay, whatever, bro… Not like you were gonna win the bet anyway. I’ll take it off,” he conceded. The jab about Wemmbu losing the bet seemed unnecessary, making him glower at Grim while he reached back to undo the knot.
Wemmbu’s stare softened when the blindfold came off, eyebrows raised in surprise. Grim…literally has fire in his eyes. On the other end of the screen, a pair of active flames stared back at him, meeting his gaze directly. Seriously, two animated fires in his irises. Wemmbu went uncharacteristically silent, enchanted. Somewhere in the back of his mind he found it cute how those eyes squinted and blinked as they adjusted to the light.
After a few seconds of silence, Grim glanced away uncomfortably, seeming almost nervous. “So…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Can we start now?”
That snapped Wemmbu out of it, but he was still staring. “...Holy shit.” He leaned closer to the screen, squinting. “Those contacts are fucking awesome, dude. Where’d you get ‘em?”
Grim’s expression dropped, a glare finally pairing with the snarl on his lips. “Bro!” he snapped. Then he took a short, harsh breath. “Okay, whatever. Focus now, bro.”
Wemmbu frowned, rolled his eyes, then listened anyway. “‘Kay, so I just look into your eyes, right?” Grim nodded, and Wemmbu leaned back in his seat. “I’m doing it,” he informed, antsy. “Go ahead.”
Grim nodded once more and straightened up, his eyes staring into Wemmbu’s. That look was practically burning holes into him. Jeez, intense much? he thought, but as soon as that thought crossed his mind—
”Focus!” Grim urgently reminded. Wemmbu blinked in surprise, caught off guard. He was a little weirded out, but he brushed it off and focused up again—a little more intently this time.
Grim’s brow knit in concentration, his eyes not once leaving Wemmbu’s, even though he sort of seemed to be looking somewhere else. That gaze was close to overwhelming, but Wemmbu was nothing if not stupidly brave, so he returned the stare like it was a competition. Pretending they were competing actually helped Wemmbu focus.
“Where are you…” Grim muttered to himself. Wemmbu raised an eyebrow, wondering why he was going so far for The Bit, and, yet again, wasn't allowed to dwell on that much before another, “Focus!” That was starting to creep Wemmbu out. “And stay still before you screw up the connection, bro.”
“What does that even m—” “Quiet!”
Wemmbu gave Grim a look and huffed in annoyance, but he focused again anyway and tried to ‘stay still’ as requested. Whatever that means.
In the next second, Wemmbu’s vision went haywire. Light flashed in his eyes, the colors he saw inverted, but he stubbornly kept looking at Grim’s eyes—in spite of not being able to tell where they were anymore. He was just guessing. His ears rang and his head hurt, and it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.
And when his vision cleared, he was met with a pleased smirk on Grim’s face. “There you are.”
Wemmbu blinked repeatedly, eyes wide. “...Holy shit,” he breathed. A thick and brief silence blanketed the call. “...What the fuck was that!?”
Smugness and self-satisfaction radiated from Grim’s entire being. He leaned back and cupped his hands behind his head, kicking back now that his goal has been completed. “Okay, bro. You can relax now; the connection’s stable.” He chuckled. “No thanks to you.”
Wemmbu was too busy processing what had just happened to be mad about that comment. “...So you…were serious,” he haltingly inquired. Wemmbu’s whole world flipped over.
Grim rolled his eyes as if the guy on the other end of the call wasn’t having a minor crisis. “Yeah, bro. Obviously.” He giggled. “Bro, I kept telling you: Grim Reapers can’t lie.” He sounded far too pleased with himself.
Wemmbu blinked slowly. “...What the fuck?” He couldn't even find it in himself to put any bite into that.
A pause.
“So those aren't contacts!?”
“...”
Grim’s lips parted in pure shock, his face twisting into something wholly bemused with notes of contempt. Wemmbu did not care. “Dude, those eyes are really cool. Why do you hide them?” He quickly raised a silencing finger after speaking without thinking like that. “Nope. Nevermind. I don’t wanna know. I’m sick of all this lore.”
Grim just stared at him with animosity. “Okay,” he deadpanned, ennunciating the syllables to emphasize his forced calm. “Y’know, most people would be worrying about their souls right now, bro.”
Wemmbu shrugged his shoulders. “I can think about it later.” Ah yes, his motto, the mantra he lives by.
Yet again Grim’s eyes were going full circle, but they stopped in the middle this time. A small, focused frown pursed his lips, strong brows meeting in the middle. He seemed to be looking directly at Wemmbu, but…he wasn’t. His eyes certainly were, but he was scrutinizing something beyond Wemmbu. It was creeping him out.
“...Whatcha lookin’ at, buddy?” came his uncomfortable query.
“Bro, your aura is weird,” Grim easily replied. No further explanation needed. He came off as heavily absentminded, more interested in whatever was ‘weird’ with Wemmbu’s ‘aura’. Whatever that means.
Slowly, Wemmbu blinked. Then he lifted one eyebrow. Seeing the clueless, thoughtless look gracing Wemmbu’s features, a despondent sigh left Grim’s lips.
“Your aura is like—”
“Style points,” Wemmbu confidently interrupted.
“...No.”
Clearing his throat, Grim began again, “Your aura is like…a light from your soul, basically. And yours is weird.”
Wemmbu actually tried to listen and decode what Grim was explaining this time, now that he knew this whole thing was apparently real. “Okay…? Is that a bad thing?”
The quiet that followed made Wemmbu a little nervous. He felt silly for it, because this was still all bizarre to him, but he supposed he should take Grim somewhat seriously now. “Well…” Grim thought. “I don’t actually know, dawg.”
“Uh??”
A harsh, exasperated exhale left Grim’s lips. “Damn, bro, chill out!” Is this guy for real? “I mean, you seem fine, bro, so you’re probably fine? I guess?”
“YOU GUESS!?”
———————————————————————
“I’m tweaking out, Egg…” Wemmbu lamented. On Eggchan’s couch, he sat slumped. Wemmbu had buried his head in his hands, deafening his voice. Outside of that, he sounded fatigued, tired eyes hiding behind his fingers.
At his desk, Eggchan hummed, tapping a pen on his chin. He looked over the text in his book, examining and scrutinizing the details. “Hm… Okay, this is a good start. Good lore.” Wemmbu shot him a look—what about my problem? “It’s a good start for figuring out a solution,” Egg clarified. “What else did you ask?” he continued, turning his gaze to Wemmbu.
They stared at each other.
Eggchan’s expression dropped, and he let his forehead fall into his palm. “...You didn't ask anything else.”
Wemmbu rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dude, I didn't care. I had listened to enough lore already.” But Wemmbu looked away and crossed his arms stiffly, a gesture Eggchan could easily recognize as defensive.
Truth be told, Wemmbu didn't think it would’ve done any good to ask.
A cold something festered in Wemmbu’s gut as he became aware of the reality of the situation. It doesn't even matter if Wemmbu’s ‘weird’ aura is a problem, does it? Because Grim won the bet. Wemmbu could almost laugh at himself. He lost his soul cause of a dumb bet—how in character.
Wemmbu scowled. “Okay, man. You won.” The cocky smirk fell from Grim’s face. “You can take my soul, or whatever.
A confusing silence followed.
Grim looked away and rubbed the back of his neck like he was just asked to go to a gathering with someone he hated and had to think up an excuse (not that Wemmbu spoke from experience). What the hell is he hesitating for? Wemmbu irritably questioned, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Uh, well, you can have a few extra days, bro,” Grim flakily allowed. No elaboration needed, apparently.
Wemmbu raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “What?” he demanded, deadpan.
Grim winced. “I mean, cause, like, bro.” Totally a coherent sentance. Great job, Grim. “I’ve been off-balance, so, like—”
”The hell does that mean?” Wemmbu cut in.
Grim paused to briefly stare at Wemmbu like he was condemning him for interrupting, but he answered anyway. “Bro, it means, like… So, as a Grim Reaper, I have to keep my soul perfectly in the balance. Equally dark and light. And if I spend too much time in the Overworld with you chungies-” That wasn’t necessary, Wemmbu thought, narrowing his eyes. “-my soul gets too light. But if I’m ferrying a soul that doesn't wanna leave and I have to force them—like, bro, this happened yesterday—my soul gets too dark. And being off-balance is, like, basically like being sick for mortals, I think?”
”Yap city,” was Wemmbu’s unamused reply.
”Bro, you asked this time!” Grim snapped. Then he sighed. “Anyway, my point is, it’s…” Suddenly Grim was all flakey again. “...probably a bad idea for me to be ferrying your soul right now.” Grim narrowed his eyes. “That’s kinda why I didn't wanna talk today,” he bitterly pointed out.
Wemmbu snorted. “Oh yeah, that makes sense.” Then he snapped out of it. “Okay, but I’m handing my soul right over. That wouldn't affect you, would it?” he pressed.
Then there was a poignant quiet that did not belong. ”Uh, so, yeah, I dunno. Probably a bad idea. You should use this time to say bye to your loved ones, or whatever,” Grim hastily blurted out. And then, predictably, he hung up. Wemmbu didn't even have it in him to be mad.
“Yo, Wemmbu? Wemmbu!”
Wemmbu blinked quickly, his mind jarringly snapped back into focus. “What?” He blinked a couple more times. “Sorry, I just genuinely zoned out.”
Egg’s eyes pierced through him. He knew Wemmbu well enough to know he wasn't telling him everything, but he also knew Wemmbu well enough to know he wouldn't say it if asked. “...Yeah, you’re cooked,” he helplessly chose to say instead.
Wemmbu scoffed and let his head fall into his hands. He didn't reply for a while, stewing in his feelings. “...You’re lowkey right,” he eventually agreed. And then Wemmbu groaned and got back to whining about his problems, but Eggchan humored his repeated rants this time, listening intently.
———————————————————————
Oh god. Oh god. Oh dear god.
Flame just…he just…he just forefeited the bet, didn't he?
No. No, no, no. That can’t be right. No, that’s definitely not right. But…how can he claim his prize like this…? Flame’s thoughts were a mess, and any logic was consumed by something weird, feverishly warm and mushy.
Emotions. So unnecessary.
Seriously, why make a Grim Reaper have emotions? They make no sense, and not even because the information is classified, just because…because they make no sense! Just for the hell of it!
Existing just for the hell of it… Flame distantly thought, a soft and fluffy idea. That sounds like Wemmbu… He sighed—not out of annoyance, nor exhaustion, nor both. It was a dreamy sigh, one that made Flame wish he’d choked it down and never made the sound as soon as he snapped out of whatever that was. He used his hands to cover his burning face, curling up in a ball.
His gaze inadvertently drifted over to his desk. Would it be too soon to text…?
Yes! Absolutely! What is he thinking!? He does not miss that little asshole. Why would he miss him, when he doesn't even like him? …Wait…like…?Flame shook his head, his train of thought shifting suddenly. No, that’s not the right word… And then an unwanted sense of realization struck.
Oh.
Oh, Flame is in love with Wemmbu.
…Oh, FUCK.