Chapter Text
To say Lomedy was beginning to grow concerned was an understatement.
They'd arrived home six hours ago. Flame had collapsed onto the couch immediately, burying his face into one of the decorative cushions Lomedy had scattered around. His heart wrenched seeing his friend looking so defeated like that, so he began to get to work.
He'd closed all the shutters in every room of his cottage, submerging the house in near total darkness. Then, he had helped Flame to his feet and half-dragged him to his room. Flame immediately burrowed under the thick blanket that was draped over the bed, curling in on himself It was a pitiful sight, honestly.
"I'm gonna go work on the carrots real quick," Lomedy had told Flame after he had made sure he was comfortable. "I'll be back in an hour or two, then I'll bring you some food, yeah?"
Flame made no indication that he had even heard Lomedy's words, remaining completely silent even as the farmer left the room.
Lomedy sighed. Maybe his friend would come to by the time he came back. This was FlameFrags, after all. He is- uh, was- the Immortal Demon. There was nothing to worry about.
But that had been six hours ago.
Despite his repeated attempts to offer Flame food and water, he had declined each one. Every time Lomedy begged and pleaded for Flame to eat just a single spoonful or take just one sip of water, he received no response other than his friend weakly shaking his head, as if he had just given up.
So instead, Lomedy had moved one of his armchairs into Flame's room. It had been difficult since Flame was usually the one who did the heavy lifting, but he got it done eventually. He'd positioned the chair right by the window near Flame's bed in order to give him space whilst still remaining nearby. Though no sunlight seeped through the firmly closed shutters, Lomedy didn't mind. He was here for Flame, not for light.
The room was quiet, unnaturally so. The only noise being made was Flame's occasional shifting beneath the sheets, and even that was few and far between. Lomedy was grateful for them though. At least it was a sign he wasn't dead.
"Lomedy?"
Lomedy jumped, immediately turning to the source of the noise. Flame.
His voice was hoarse and raspy from lack of use. Lomedy wished now that he had just poured water down his throat.
"Yes, Flame?" the farmer responded, scooting over to the edge of his seat to hear Flame better. Sure, he had bunny ears and all, but his friend was speaking incredibly quietly.
"Am I...useless now?"
Lomedy sprung back in alarm. "What?!" he exclaimed, before he clamped his hands over his mouth. "What?" he repeated, much softer that time. "Why would you even think that?"
"I mean," came the muffled reply. "Like..." Flame sighed. "All I'm good at doing is fighting, bro. Like now that I can't do that...am I useless?" If Lomedy's ears weren't deceiving him, he sounded like he was about to cry.
"No!" Lomedy hissed, outraged. "Bro, I can't fight either! Does that make me useless?"
"But it's not your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you," Flame muttered bitterly. "And I can't do that now. So like," he sighed in defeat. "I'll stay the night, if you don't mind. I'll leave tomorrow."
Lomedy shook his head vehemently. "No. No, no. We're having none of that," he protested. He closed his eyes, letting himself think for a minute.
"Do you remember when I sprained my ankle and I couldn't walk straight for a week?" he prompted gently.
"Hm. Yeah," Flame chuckled sadly.
"And how about that time my farm got destroyed and you came to help me?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you help me?"
The question hung in the tense, almost tangible air. Then Flame answered. "Well because you're my friend. I got your back bro, always."
"And you think it's any different with me?" Lomedy countered "You're my friend too, idiot. You were there for me, so I'm here for you. That's what friends are supposed to do."
"I'm gonna help you get your blindfold back," Lomedy resolved. "It may take weeks, months, hell, even years, but I will be there for you every step of the way."
"I can't promise we'll ever make it," he said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I can't say it'll be easy, or that everything will be okay. But I promise," Lomedy placed his hand firmly on Flame's back, "that I'll be by your side. Always."
Flame fell completely still at the farmer's words. "I can always leave," he suggested quietly. "I'm just gonna be a burden, Lomedy. It's not fair on you if I just stay here and make you take care of me."
"You're not making me do anything," Lomedy snapped, pausing for a second to calm down a little. "You're not making me do anything, and you're definitely not a burden. I want to do this, Flame. Please just let me."
There was a brief moment of hesitation before Flame finally said, "Alright."
Lomedy let a soft smile slip onto his face. He turned to his right, reaching for the water he'd left on the bedside table for Flame. It had had ice in it when he put it in there, but it had all melted by then. Carefully, Lomedy got to his feet and picked it up. He then tapped his friend on the shoulder and forced the water into his hand.
"Drink," Lomedy instructed. At last Flame listened, taking large gulps of water like he hadn't drunk in days. He'd downed the whole glass in a matter of a minute, which was no easy feat. It was a pretty tall glass, after all.
After Flame had set the glass down, he squirmed under the blanket to face Lomedy. His eyes were still firmly shut, which felt strange to the farmer.
"Flame," Lomedy began. "I...you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it, but...can you open your eyes?"
"...you have to promise not to laugh though," Flame finally uttered, sounding slightly abashed.
"I swear," he agreed, watching anticipatedly.
When Flame opened his eyes, Lomedy saw the light.
No, like literally. Flame's eyes were literally glowing.
His eyes were heterochromatic, one a deep red and the other a sunset yellow. They shone brightly and pierced through the near total darkness. Small droplets of tears still clung to Flame's lashes, the light warping through the water. His eyes reminded Lomedy vaguely of traffic lights.
Flame blinked, and the lights stopped shining for a moment. They were back within a second, the eyes they were sourced from blown wide with curiosity.
"Woah," Lomedy breathed, taken aback. "Your eyes glow?"
"Yeah. It's kinda inconvenient sometimes though," Flame admitted. "Like you could be walking in the dark and just see two bright lights shining out of a bush off the path you're on." Lomedy snorted at his brain's depiction of Flame's statement. It truly did look ridiculous.
The farmer sighed, turning around and cracking open the shutters a fraction. The sun had long since disappeared from the horizon, and the moon hung in the sky with its astronomical grace.
"It's late, Flame," Lomedy commented. "Go to sleep. We'll talk about our gameplan tomorrow, alright?"
"Sure," Flame murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion. He yawned loudly and turned over in bed.
"Good night, Flame," the farmer wished him, already halfway out the door.
"Good night, Lomedy. And thanks, y'know, for-"
"I know," Lomedy chuckled. "Sweet dreams." With that he closed the door gently and made his way to his own room to turn in for the night.