Archive of Our Own

Blood. There's blood everywhere.

It coats his hands and spills onto the floor like spilt ink. It stains everything a deep, scarlet red that makes his stomach churn, despite seeing it a thousand times before.

The fishing rod that had been in his hand a moment earlier is now nothing but cracked and chipped sticks mixed with snapped string on the floor. The wood set ablaze and the scent of ashes don't mix well together, burning his throat and adding an uncomfortable heat that clings to his skin.

Breathing feels difficult, and it's not just because of the dust and smoke that followed after the explosion from his fishing rod. It hurts, his chest. It hurts, because all he can do is stare at the ashen, wrangled corpses crumpled on the dirt.

Where polished quartz once laid has now been replaced by dusted rock and dirt, along with a handful of bodies charred beyond recognition after the explosion. He feels nausea creeping up his throat as the heat only worsens, sparks slowly igniting from the wooden scraps that had been nearby the TNT.

What has he done?

Usually, Wemmbu doesn't care who lives or dies. He kills people all the time, then walks away unaffected. It never takes up space in his mind. He never thinks back to it. However this time, it's different. The more he thinks about the circumstances, the worse he truly feels.

Maybe he had just never really thought about it, or maybe he didn't want to. Maybe- maybe it's because he saw himself in the players he's just slain.

They were defenceless. Players hired by assassins desperate to learn his identity. They were being paid a fortune, but had barely even been geared before facing him.

Unlike Parrot and Theo, whoever had hired these assassins hadn't cared even a single bit about what condition their hires were in. Some had worn nothing but basic diamond armour, while others had trims of glimmering emerald or lapis.

Sure, they had all been trying to kill him, but- he could've been like one of them before. Defenceless, scared, taking anything they could get their hands on to survive.

They only had one instruction; kill him. They didn't have a personal grudge or anything worth truly despising. They were all innocent players.

Players who could've lived out a longer life. Players whose lives were cut short.

Cut short all because of him.

Wemmbu crumples to his knees, vision swaying as he gasps for air. The pain feels so unbelievably suffocating. He didn't mean to kill them. He hadn't been thinking straight.

Why did he do it? He pulled the hook, cracked the branches of the fishing rod, watched as TNT rained down onto the oblivious players. In fact, he had almost felt a sense of glee.

But god, it hurts now. They could've lived. He was just like them all at one point. When he was shown forgiveness, when he was released instead of slain, he brushed it off because he believed he was stronger than all those who tried to kill him.

Wemmbu could've shown them mercy. He could've sent them off. If he had done it before, why didn't he do it now? Why kill all these innocent players instead of giving them a second chance?

They wounded him. His chest gushes blood and his arms ache from exhaustion, but even then- they did it to survive. They needed him to die so they could all keep on living.

It would've been so simple to save them, but he didn't. Instead, he smiled as the explosion rung through his ears and the deaths rang through his communicator in a glowing yellow.

His face feels hot. His body feels hot. Everything feels too overwhelming. The blazing, crackling sound of flames overhead, the crashing waves of the ocean against the island, everything. He reaches for his cheek, and smears away both blood and tears.

When did he start crying?

He never cries. Not since Rejoice died.

The name makes him freeze. Tears begin to freely drip down his cheeks, and he stares down at his hands. The invisibility coating his skin has run out, revealing palms tainted a deep red from blood. It's everywhere. Everywhere.

What would Rejoice think of him? Rejoice was innocent. They were all innocent. They didn't deserve to die.

Bloodied sunflowers bloom in the ashes. His breathing grows erratic as Rejoice's voice rings in his ears with a blank tone.

"You really sicken me, Wemmbu." He says, voice low. His eyes are dull, sunflowers blooming behind his every step. He turns towards the ocean beyond the crater of the explosion, then-

"No, please-" He manages hoarsely, but Rejoice is already gone by the time he's blinked the tears clouding his vision away. Wemmbu tries to swallow down the burning pressure in his throat, but it prevails. The words hurt as they leave his lips.

"Y-you're right. They're all right. I'm really not the strongest player. Fucking look at me." He whispers, reaching for the sword holstered underneath his belt.

Wemmbu's hands grip the handle, leaving bloody imprints as he unsheathes it. All he sees is red, and scattered sunflower petals. He doesn't deserve to live. Not after so many people have died for him. Not after he's killed so many people and he's been spared instead.

His shaking fingers pry at the hem of his white sleeves, leaving more imprints as he pulls it up to his shoulder. He barely even thinks it through before he's pressing down the tip of the blade against his shoulder, sliding it across his skin until it's stained a matching red.

Bloodied petals. Bloodied bodies. It's everywhere, and it hurts. He's not innocent. They were, they all were, yet he still lived and they still died.

Why? Why does he get the privilege of living?

Hot, salty tears drip onto the cool metal of the blade. His mind is spinning, only comprehending one thing.

If he is destined to live when the innocent people who have met him died because of him, then he deserves to feel their pain. Every ounce, every single ounce.

His heart aches so badly he wants to rip it out of his chest. Red trickles down his arms. His ears ring. Sweat clings to his back and his forehead, and it feels like the worlds closing in around him.

There's blood. So much blood. He's beginning to become dizzy from how little he's breathing, and most likely from the blood loss too. Yet, he doesn't stop.

He needs this to hurt. So, so badly. He doesn't care if he's already wounded and injured. He owes this to them. Wemmbu killed them.

He's choking on his tears as he starts on the other shoulder, treating his skin like a white canvas in need of paint. He presses as hard as can until his shoulders down to his wrist are covered in cuts both deep and shallow, blood trickling down his marked skin.

Fuck. He's not even invisible anymore.

The sunflowers begin to cloud his vision again. Rejoice, Rejoice, Rejoice. It's all he can hear. He died because he decided to help Wemmbu. Wemmbu. Not the Invisible Night, or whatever the fuck anyone even calls him anymore. The him who he hates is the reason that someone he loved, someone innocent died.

He's a coward for hiding, he knows. He tried to run from his problem by forging a new identity, to wash his bloodstained hands and pretend to be someone he wasn't. It's pathetic. He's pathetic.

He's not the strongest player on the server at all. Far from it. No amount of invisibility, or kills, or fights won will ever change that. No amount of anything can bring back to people he's killed either.

Wemmbu could've been someone good, but really- he's selfish. Rotten. A self-proclaimed hero who can't handle being by himself. How pathetic is that?

He lifts the sword's blade from his skin, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he sheathes his sword back into its holster.

He can't even save himself from himself.

Wemmbu grunts at the sting from both his prior injuries and his new ones, breathing shallow breaths as he searches for something to heal himself with.

His mind is still spinning, bloody petals mixed with ashes still spotting his vision. He might pass out soon if he doesn't patch himself up.

And he can't let that happen. If someone saw he was still alive. If someone saw how truly pathetic he was, he'd be nothing. He'd be like all the players he had killed, fighting to be someone rather than no one.

Wemmbu's stomach twists as the realization dawns upon him. His inventory is devoid of any heals, any enderchest, and any shulker. The fight against his assassins have drained him of all his resources, and with the TNT blowing up all the other players items-

Oh. He's really going to bleed out and die in the middle of the ocean, isn't he?

Panic rises in his chest. He deserves pain, but he doesn't want to die. Maybe it's his stupid ego that keeps him alive. No matter what it is, it stops him from simply giving up and accepting his death.

But even with the thought of living in mind, he's not even sure how he's supposed to do that. He most definitely won't be able to find a stronghold in this condition. Hell, something as simple as flying will probably feel like a sword being twisted in his gut.

He grimaces, reaching for his battered elytra nonetheless. Trying is worse than nothing, He supposes. There's no one here that he can think of that lives in the Great sea anyway.

No one, except-

Jaden.

He scrambles to his feet, lighting a firework rocket and setting off into the setting sky.

Wemmbu was right when he said that flying would hurt like hell. It does, especially after a stab got through his chest plate, leaving a painful wound underneath the weighted diamond armour.

Still, he lights rocket after rocket, panting shallowly as his vision grows hazier. If he doesn't make it soon, he might actually die. Even worse, if Jaden isn't even there, he's pretty much guaranteed dead regardless of if he makes it or not.

The base appears in the distance, and his fingers rush to type out a messy sentence to Jaden on his communicator. It's one thing to try and type while flying, and another to do that with fresh injuries on both his arms and chest.

You whispers to JadenMAN: omw brw lol

Jadenman whispers to you : Wtf????? Bro what

He feels both too nauseous and too lightheaded to respond, shutting his communicator and crash landing in front of Jaden's doorstep. Pain flares up immediately, but he drags himself up from the grass. He's probably limping as he knocks on the door, legs aching and ready to give in.

In an instant, he hears footsteps. Heavy, running- almost tripping down the stairs. He forces a breathy laugh from his throat, leaning against the nearest wall for support. The wound at his chest is only getting worse, blood soaking the white fabric dark red.

"Wem- Mystery, Invis guy, I swear to god. If this is another elaborate scheme of yours, I'm actually gonna k-" Jaden's voice hitches abruptly, eyes widening as he swings the door open.

Wemmbu laughs sheepishly, knees buckling. He sinks to the floor. Still holding one arm against the wall to not completely collapse. Breathing hurts. He needs healing badly. "Hey, uh, sorry for showing up outta nowhere, bro." He manages, words slurring as Jaden rushes towards him.

His vision blurs and his ears ring too loudly to comprehend what Jaden says after that. The only words he could really make out from all his rambling and all his questions was one singular, hushed sentence:

"What did you do to yourself, Wemmbu?"

After that, it all goes dark.

___

Wemmbu opens his eyes.

He blinks in a daze, rubbing his eyes before glancing around at his surroundings.

There's satin, lavender sheets pooled at his side. He sits up from the bed in confusion, eyeing the intricate wood carvings on the canopy bed he's sat in before turning his attention towards the long corridor standing before him.

Ah. He recognizes this now. It's his empire. His civilization, his kingdom. Wemmbu feels a dull tug at his heart, compelling him to rise from the bed, making his way down the hallway.

His civilization, shouldn't it be gone? He left it behind, just like he left everything else behind. To him, nothing is bound to stay forever. Wemmbu tries to leave things before they escape his own grasp, and most of the time it works.

But.. Why is he here then? Sure, he admits that he misses his old empire, but he could've rebuilt it and started anew if he'd wanted to. Even if it wouldn't have been the same, would that have truly mattered?

At the end of the day, he'd still have the fragments of the original thing he clung to. That'd be more enough for him. Well, he thinks so, at least.

Wemmbu pauses, his footsteps halting as he sniffs the air. His nose wrinkles at the distant scent of smoke, but it's just as intriguing as it is worrying. He turns in the direction it's strongest, which seems to be the entrance of the castle.

His feet begin to push him faster as he makes his way down winding stairs and past rooms and hallways. The faint smell of smoke becomes stronger, burning his nose until he finally reaches the source.

There's fire everywhere.

The dry grass has been set ablaze, spreading onto the trees and sparking flames from the leaves. He lifts his shirt to his mouth as to not inhale the bitter air, glancing around to find what caused the fire. Didn't Horace fireproof everything? How did this happen?

In the walls of flames, his eyes catch the outline of figures in the fire. He dashed in their direction, eyes widening at the sight he's met with.

With burnt skin and darkened eyes lies too many familiar faces, all having succumbed to the fire. Egg, Loppezz, Parrot, Flame, Zam, Rejoice, Mane, and worst of all- Himself. In the centre of all of the corpses lay his own mangled body, twisted into a fetal position.

He gags, vomit rising in his throat. If he's himself right now, then why is he dead? Why is his empire on fire? None of this ever happened, so then why? Why is this all happening?

"Wemmbu!" a voice calls out in the distance, almost unheard through the roar of the flames. The heat burns his skin, closing in and trapping him. He swallows, voice scratchy as he calls back, "Who's there? Where- where is this? What's going on?"

"Wemmbu," They repeat from the other side of the fire, "You need to come to me. You need to find your way through the fire."

"What-?" Wemmbu asks, "Why? How do I get out? Why should I trust y-" He stops, voice dissolving into a fit of coughs. He tries to squint through the flames to make out the outline on the other side, but can't seem to do so.

"If you don't, you'll die. You're so stuck on never asking for help. Never relying on anything or anyone. Yet, even so- You still can't let some things you love go, even if you tell yourself you have let them go."

He hacks, trying to breathe through the growing smoke. "What are you saying-?! Just- just come and save me! I'm asking for help right now, aren't I?" Wemmbu snaps.

"What don't you understand? I'm not here to save you. Only you can do that, Wemmbu. Don't you realize it?" They ask.

He stumbles through the fire, wincing as the heat clinging to his skin only grows. "Realize what-?! I'm going to fucking die in this fire if you don't save me! I can't die, I-"

"Wemmbu," The voice interrupts, "How hard is it for you to realize? You started this fire. You are this fire. It grows because you try to burn the things you tell yourself are meaningless to you. You try to run from the flames that burn everything behind you, but you're only hurting yourself by doing so."

He chokes on the bitter, burning smell of smoke, desperation growing in his voice. "Please, I don't- I don't get it. Maybe I've been running, but that doesn't-"

"But what? Tell me, Wemmbu. If there is a leaf, just close enough to an open fire to catch a spark, is it enough for you to worry about it catching fire? Will you put in the work to extinguish the spark before it potentially transforms into a fire?"

He stumbles closer toward the direction of the voice. "It's a possibility. It's not actually going to catch on fire." Wemmbu reasons through the growing flames.

"So then, how do you think this fire started? You thought things would be okay if you just let one leaf spark, didn't you? So what happens if you put out that fire, but the spark never went out? What if it caught fire, and slowly spread to the forest around it?" The voice hums.

"No, no, I- There wasn't any fire in me to begin with. That wouldn't be possible."

"There wasn't? You didn't just.. ignore the fire? You didn't smell the smoke and feel the heat? You didn't just pretend that it wasn't there, hoping and praying that the rain would come and the fire would go out on its own?"

"Stop, stop asking me so many questions. None of this relates to me, bro. I really don't know why I'm here." Wemmbu replies, hissing as the flames bite his scarred skin.

The voice chuckles softly, "Wemmbu, why won't you listen? You are the fire. You fed it unknowingly, and let it grow until it became something even you couldn't manage. You told yourself the problem wasn't there, and now- It's killing you."

"No. I didn't." He argues, "There- there is no problem. I don't fucking understand why this is happening."

"You do. The guilt, the deaths, the blood- your ego was too big for you to ask for help when it hurt. If you can't put out the fire or escape it, you know it's going to kill you." The voice says, pausing. "..Are you going to deny the truth until you succumb to the fire?"

Wemmbu's heart feels heavy in his chest as the words ring in his mind. The flames licking his skin is becoming unbearable, and the words the voice says are true. He knows it. He will die in this fire if he can't escape.

"I-" His voice cracks, "I don't want to die, though. If I run through the fire, it'll still hurt. I might die anyways."

"That's true. But the keyword is might, isn't it? You thought the leaf might catch on fire. You thought that mercy might've been an option. You might die if you run through this fire. Those are all very real possibilities, but if you don't try, then won't you die either way?"

Wemmbu's throat goes dry. The voice is right.

"And, it is true that it will hurt. It hurts even right now, and you're not even at the heart of the fire. But Wemmbu, you can't heal without hurting first. It's like how you can't clean a wound before disinfecting it." They finish.

"I know that the fire hurts right now, and that it's tempting to give in. You wanna just give up because you don't believe there's a way to save yourself, but in reality- You're really just scared to take the first step forward. To run through the fire, to feel that pain that you told yourself wasn't there."

"So Wemmbu, let me tell you this again. You need to come to me. You need to find your way through the fire," They repeat, "..Because if you don't, you'll die. You'll be nothing but a dull corpse in a half-dead body."

"And we both know you don't want to die."

Wemmbu swallows, smudging away the tears that have formed at the corners of his eyes. "Okay." He says eventually, voice wobbling. "How.. how do I take the first step then?"

They snicker, then it turns into a laugh. "Oh, Wemmbu. You already know that. You only need to do one thing, and that's taking the first step forward." The voice chirps, "Follow my voice. I know it'll hurt, but that's just how things work."

He grimaces, nodding slightly. "..Okay." Wemmbu says again, beginning to stagger towards the direction of both the voice, and the raging fire. "And what if I die?"

"Well, aren't you already fighting to stay alive? If that's the case, then you won't die. You're just so scared of that thought that you're letting it get to your head."

He steps into the blazing heat. It sears his skin, and he grits his teeth. Wemmbu tries to follow the voice that has been speaking to him, pushing through the boiling pain.

It's agonizing, and oddly so- it's hurting his heart more than anything. Even odder is that Wemmbu realizes the full truth in that voices words. All this time, he was the fire.

He did this to himself. Wemmbu tried to mask the pain and pretend it wasn't there. That deep, heavy, sinking feeling in his heart had been bottled away for the longest time, like flames waiting to ignite in the dark.

"Come on, Wemmbu." The voice urges, "You can still put out the fire. You can still escape."

The words cause hope to blossom in his chest, replacing the heavy feeling feeling that had been there moments earlier.

He doesn't know how long he runs through the flames, or how longs he endures the searing pain. All he can do in that moment is repeat the words over and over on his head.

You can still put out the fire.

You can still put out the fire.

You can still put out the fire.

You will put out this fire.

You will live, and you will not die.

You don't have to be the strongest, you just need to be strong.

This isn't where you die, Wemmbu.

This won't be where you die, Wemmbu.

Wemmbu, Wemmbu, Wemmbu-

"Wemmbu?"

He blinks. Their gruelling fire torching his skin has faded, leaving blistered skin and burns. Wemmbu glances around, and finds himself standing in a field of sunflowers and daffodils. He exhales softly, breathing a breath of relief.

"See, I knew you could do it." A warm voice laughs, snapping him back into reality. He looks up from his burnt skin, eyes widening. "Oh. Rejoice, you're.. here. It's you." Wemmbu whispers.

"Aw, come on, Wemmbu. Please don't look so shaken up. You know I don't blame you for my death, right? I think that should've been obvious." Rejoice says, plucking a sunflower from the field.

He stutters, struggling to find his words. "But- I killed you. You died because of me. I couldn't save you." Wemmbu replies, as if it that should be just as obvious.

Rejoice looks back up at him, tilting his head. "Still as stubborn as when I first met you, huh? He muses, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well, hear it from me then. I don't blame you for anything, and I think you should really stop being so hard or yourself all the time."

"But I killed you." Wemmbu repeats, slower this time. "You shouldn't forgive me."

"Why wouldn't I forgive you? You're my friend, Wemmbu. You didn't mean for me to die. I see the kind of person you are." He chuckles softly, forming a bouquet of daffodils and sunflowers in his hands.

"But- I don't- I don't get it. I don't deserve these things, I pretty much just- brute forced them. The only reason i'm still alive is because I keep pushing, otherwise I'd already be dead. I have no morals. I don't have anything motivating me other than the fear of death and the rush of adrenaline that comes from killing people." He admits quietly, eyes searching Rejoices.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Wemmbu. You've saved a lot of people, much more than you probably realize, in fact. Your motivation doesn't come from killing, it comes from the small things that make you happy, and there's nothing wrong with that." Rejoice explains with a small hum. "Whether it's killing that brings you a bit of joy, or as something as simple as, I don't know- talking to Egg, that's still motivation, isn't it?"

"So then.. how did the fire start?"

"Ignorance."

"What?"

Rejoice nods, "Thats how fires usually start. You know what people say. Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? You were motivated because of happiness, but that was because if you ran out of that happiness, the emotions you were trying to drown out would come back."

"But- I wasn't ignoring anything, was I?" Wemmbu questions. 

"You always try to drown out memories. You try to replace them. You're afraid of losing things, so you try and fill that void in other ways instead of facing that reality. You felt guilty about my death because you lost me, but you tried to ignore that feeling by doing things like killing."

"But that isn't- that wasn't.. healthy."

Rejoice snorts, "So you realize that? Well, you're very right. It isn't all that healthy. That's probably how your small spark that you thought was nothing spiralled into a blazing fire."

He frowns, "Well then.. what do I do? I don't exactly want to keep feeling like shit, you know. I don't think I made that full decision for myself."

"That's simple. First, stop isolating yourself like ice. You know how ice gets all cold and desolate, freezing and blocking itself in? Well, that's you, in a sense. You probably didn't realize that." Rejoice smiles. "You need to let that ice melt slowly. Naturally. Because if you rush yourself and let that fire spark again, it will burn the ice, but at the same time- you're still trapped, and you'll only feel worse."

"And.. the second one?"

"Second, put out the fire. This one can take time. A lot of time. Even after you've doused the flames in water, there's still going to be ash and dust. But you can't stop trying. It doesn't matter how long it takes you. One tree at a time, figure out a way to extinguish the fire. Figure out how to thaw that ice."

Rejoice pauses before finishing, "..And one last thing," He says, "Take your time. Don't rush to do what you need to get back on the right path. And do me a favour while you're at it, Wemmbu- Thank Jaden."

"Jaden?" Wemmbu's head whips up, "He killed you, why should I ever fucking thank him?" He questions in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

Rejoice steps towards Wemmbu, flashing him a gentle, reassuring smile. "Because he's just saved your life." He whispers, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

"Oh." Is all he manages to say, voice cracking as he eases into the hug, taking in the comforting warmth rather than the hot, painful warmth against his skin from earlier.

"You will put out this fire, Wemmbu."

And with that, Rejoice fades back into sunflower petals scattered through the flower valleys, sending Wemmbu back into the darkness.

__

Wemmbu blinks, letting out a low yawn as he slowly sits up from the bed.

..Bed?

He blinks again, quick to regain consciousness. Where is he? He doesn't remember anything other than-

"Wemmbu!" A voice calls, and a blur of colour races over to him. It takes his mind a moment to process the figure before he realizes that it's Jaden, who has a worried look plastered on his face.

"What're you lookin' at me like that for.." Wemmbu mumbles, still slightly half asleep as he squints, trying to make out the Jaden's facial features. "..Weirdo."

"I-" Jaden scoffs, sounding offended. "Dude, do you even remember what happened?!" He questions, giving Wemmbu's shoulder a light shake.

"Err.. There was the, uh- assassins, and then-" His breathing grows heavy as he laughs, "There was blood. Lots of blood, and fire."

Jaden's worried expressions grows, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrow in concern. "You crashed on my doorstep, bro. What happened?" He asks.

"Uh.." He clears his throat, stretching out his arms to examine the bandages. "I don't really know." Wemmbu says, and technically it's only half a lie.

Nonetheless, Jaden doesn't seem convinced whatsoever. His eyes gazing upon Wemmbu's bandaged body, eyes narrowing even further. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"You were soaked in blood. You-" He inhales, going silent before a moment before trying again. "..Look, do you not trust me or something? If I still hated you, I would've just put you out your misery the second you dropped on my doorstep."

Wait, does he trust Jaden? It's true that Jaden could've just killed him then and there, but what if he's just egging him on? What if he's just going to backstab him again, like every other person, all because they want to kill him? What if some other innocent person dies because of him? What if-

"Wemmbu?" Jaden's concerned voice cuts through Wemmbu's thoughts. "Bro, please." He sighs softly. "I'm just- worried about you. When you were asleep, you were murmuring something over and over, you know that..?"

"What?" He questions, sitting up a bit straighter. "What was I saying?"

Jaden grimaces, "..You were saying Rejoice's name over and over. At first I was confused, but then you sounded.. really upset. I don't really know, but I'm here, bro. I'm not gonna betray your trust or anything."

Wemmbu goes quiet, Rejoices gentle words repeating in his head. "One tree at a time, figure out a way to extinguish the fire. Figure out how to thaw that ice."

"And for what it's worth," Jaden adds softly, "..I'm sorry for killing Rejoice, and for saying all those things. I, uh- I think you have an odd way of showing it, but you've got some pretty respectable morals that you fight pretty hard to stand for." He chuckles.

He still says nothing, and Jaden sighs again. "You don't have to open up about why, but can you at least tell me about the.. injuries?"

"Injuries?" Wemmbu repeats, finally looking back up at Jaden. The other nods, head tilting towards his arms wrapped in gauze. "Yeah. A lot of that blood was yours." He replies hesitantly. "..Self-inflicted, you know? Don't think I didn't recognize it."

He blinks, turning away from Jaden. Of course Jaden would find out. How would he not? "Sorry." Is all he says, wrapping his arms around himself.

"No, no-" Jaden shakes his head quickly, reaching out to place his palm on Wemmbu's hand. "I'm- I'm not blaming you or anything. It's just- you showed up to my place with these deep scars on your arms, bruises, and a wound on your chest. You were bleeding out."

He inhales, "A-and if you hadn't gotten here any sooner, I think you would've died, or at least done some permanent damage that went beyond scars."

"All I'm saying is that I don't want you to die. Crazy, right? But- just listen to me, I know you aren't an emotional personal. You don't have to be. Just know that- I'm here.. for you. You've got a place in my civilization. Sure, I might've hated you before, but I think I owe you a lot more than you owe me. So if you ever need something," Jaden exhales slowly, "I'm here, and I'll be here."

Wemmbu turns his head back towards Jaden, eyes slightly widened. He tries to respond, but the words can't seem to form on his tongue. Jaden doesn't hate him. Jaden feels sorry for killing Rejoice. Jaden.. cares.

And there's this weird feeling that tugs at his heart, something that he can't quite describe. Maybe it's a deep sense of longing, or regret, or forgiveness. He really can't put his finger on it. All at once though, it hits, and something in his seems to shatter, like a dam breaking against water.

He doesn't realize it until Jaden scrambles to hug him that he's started crying. He makes a soft sound of confusion, palms trying to wipe the tears away. His arms sting as Jaden holds him gently, carefully asking if he's okay.

Through tears, he manages to nod, letting out a small laugh. "Shit, this is embarrassing." He says, voice shaking. "I- I killed so many innocent people, ran from the truth, yet you're still here, telling me that you care. It's weird." He rasps.

"You're still a good person, Wemmbu. Take that from me, one of your worst enemies." Jaden laughs softly.

The words can't seem to fit in his brain. Him, who's killed so many people, guilty and innocent. Him, who wreaks havoc, who blows up whatever he wants, who ran away from his true identity-

"Why?" Wemmbu asks, tears still falling down his cheeks. "Why are you like this? Why do you even care? I hurt you."

Jaden blinks, seeming perplexed by the question. "I.. couldn't give you a direct answer, honestly. But- I know you're a good person. You had the chance to kill me when I was vulnerable, but you didn't. You saved me. Even as you pretended to be someone else, you didn't think to hurt me. Even after I killed someone you cared about. Even after I had killed Rejoice, you didn't kill me."

Jaden's hug tightens, "I- I've seen the way you react when I say his name. When sunflowers pass your gaze, when you tense at his name and your shoulders go ridged-" He swallows, guilt tainting his voice. "It doesn't take a genius to tell you feel guilty for him dying. He seems to haunt you like a ghost, huh?"

"Yeah." Wemmbu whispers. "Too much. I see him when I kill. He tells me how sickened he is. He tells me how this isn't what he would've wanted, how his sacrifice was in vain."

Jaden tilts his head, eyes sympathetic. "That isn't true, bro. If anything, he would've wanted you to live as someone free of guilt. I think he'd be the last person to wish that kinda burden on you."

The dream of the flower field comes back. Rejoice must've been the one talking to him while he was in the fire. Rejoice was the one who snapped him out of it.

He really did this all to himself, didn't he?

"Huh." Wemmbu says breathlessly. "I feel- I feel really fucking stupid right now." He laughs, his laughter dissolving back into soft sobs. "Why'd you have to be right?"

"Hey, uh- don't beat yourself up over it." Jaden replies quickly, "It takes a lot to admit that you've got some burden that needs fixing. And, even once you do- it's takes a while to get there, so really, don't be so hard on yourself." He murmurs.

Wemmbu stays quiet for a brief moment before bursting back into a fit of quiet laughter, "We should call you the next Shakespeare. Look at you, all poetic and emotional."

Jaden elbows his leg, clearly avoiding both Wemmbu's arms and sides. He appreciates the sentiment. "Dude-! I just saved your life, be a bit grateful." He snickers teasingly.

"Hey- I never said I didn't appreciate it! Imagine if Flame found out I died to some no name assassins? He'd probably drag me up from the pits of hell just to kill me himself." Wemmbu replies.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, dude. At least if you die, I'll have been the only one to have witnessed you truly vulnerable." Jaden flaunts.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile spreading across his lips. "Uh, as if, dude. You're probably like, the fifth person to see me bleeding out and sad. Good attempt, though."

"Wh-? Dude, that's gotta be bullshit! Come on, at least bump me up on your imaginary list!" Jaden grumbles.

Wemmbu hums, "I guess I could make an exception. It's thanks to all your kindness and generosity that I survived after all, Jaden." He says, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

Jaden lets go of Wemmbu, flopping backwards onto the bed. "Man, forget it." He snorts, waving his hand. "You could've at least thanked me properly, especially after I waxed poetic for you."

"I am thankful, dude." He stats, "You saved my life. I-" Wemmbu groans, "I'm ass at being sincere, dude. I don't know what you're expecting. But, I'm thankful, okay? Thank you for waxing poetic and for patching up my wounds and for also.. Not killing me? So yeah, bro. Thanks."

Jaden blinks, eyes wide. It takes him a moment before he smiles widely, chuckling. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Yeah, uh- you can go fuck off and die now." Wemmbu replies, but there's a light, teasing tone in his voice.

For the first time in a long time, his chest feels free of burden. The aching in his heart fades, and the weight on his shoulders have released.

In the corner of his eyes, Rejoice smiles. That ghost, haunting him and weighing him down- It was never Rejoice. It was himself, and now, he's free of the guilt, and of that illusion of Rejoice.

The image of Rejoice dissolves into blossoming, bright yellow sunflower petals, blowing out the nearest window. He's free of that burden now.

The dams have broken and the ice has cracked. The wounds have been disinfected, and the fire has been doused.

Now, all he needs to do is move forward.