Work Text:
Flame woke up gasping, his hands clutching at the sheets. His blindfold was soaked with sweat—or maybe tears, he couldn't tell anymore. His whole body was shaking, residual heat rippling off his skin in waves that made the air around him shimmer.
A dark room. Ashswag's voice, smooth and persuasive. "You don't have to do this, you know. Some of the other diamond players gave something, sure, but you're already powerful enough. You've already proven yourself."
But Flame had wanted more. Wanted to prove he was committed.
"My tail," he'd said, gesturing to the black, lizard-like appendage that ended in a small flame. "I'll give you my tail."
Ashswag had smiled. "If that's what you want."
And Flame—as stupid as he was—had said yes.
Flame sat up in bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his blindfold. He could still feel it sometimes. The phantom sensation of his tail, the weight of it that was no longer there. The nerves that had been severed—not cleanly, never cleanly—still sent wrong signals to his brain. Phantom pain that made him reach back to touch something that hadn't been there in almost a year.
The Invisible Mafia was gone now. Ashswag had been defeated, his empire dismantled just a few months ago. The server was free.
But Flame's tail was never coming back.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying to steady his breathing. The room felt too small, too hot—his fire powers always went haywire when he was panicking. He needed to cool down. Needed to think about something else.
He didn't even need it, Flame thought, the familiar guilt washing over him. Ash said I didn't have to give anything. And I still said yes.
That made it so much worse. If Ashswag had demanded it, if it had been required, Flame could at least blame someone else. But Ash had given him an out. Had said it wasn't necessary. And Flame had insisted anyway, desperate to prove his loyalty, desperate to be more than what he was.
His hands were still shaking. He reached back automatically, feeling for the tail that wasn't there, and the absence sent a jolt of phantom pain up his spine that made him gasp.
"Bro, stop," he whispered to himself. "Stop, stop, stop—"
But the panic was rising now, his chest getting tighter, his fire getting hotter. He could smell something burning—probably his sheets again. He needed to calm down before he set his whole base on fire.
He needed—
Flame grabbed his communicator with trembling hands. He stared at his contacts list, pride warring with desperation. He didn't want to bother anyone. Didn't want to be needy, didn't want to be too much—
But his hands were already moving, typing before he could stop himself.
You whisper to Wemmbu: you awake?
He hit send before he could delete it. Then stared at the screen, immediately regretting it. It was the middle of the night. Wemmbu was probably asleep, or—
Wemmbu whispers to you: yeah. whats up
Flame's breath caught. He hadn't actually expected a response.
You whisper to Wemmbu: just
You whisper to Wemmbu: bad night bro
You whisper to Wemmbu: sorry for bothering you
There was a pause. Flame watched the screen, his vision blurring slightly. He should just go back to sleep. Pretend he'd sent that by accident. Wemmbu didn't need to deal with—
Wemmbu whispers to you: where are you
You whisper to Wemmbu: my base. but its fine bro really i just needed to
You whisper to Wemmbu: idk
You whisper to Wemmbu: talk to someone i guess bro
Wemmbu whispers to you: coming
You whisper to Wemmbu: you dont have to come here dude
Last read By Wemmbu: 3:04AM
Flame's hands were still shaking. Part of him wanted to take it back, to say he was fine, to maintain the pretense that he was the strongest player on the server who didn't need help.
But a bigger part of him—the part that was still sitting in a dark room insisting on giving up his tail when he didn't have to, the part that woke up reaching for something that wasn't there—needed someone. Anyone.
Even if it meant swallowing his pride.
He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to control his breathing, trying to cool down the fire that kept threatening to spiral out of control. His sheets were definitely singed now. The air smelled like smoke.
It took maybe ten minutes—though it felt like hours—before he heard footsteps outside his base. Then a knock on the door.
"Bro, it's open," Flame called out, his voice rougher than he intended.
The door opened, and Wemmbu stepped in. His eyes immediately found Flame in the dim light, and his tail—his intact, perfectly functional tail—swished once before going still.
Wemmbu looked at Flame. At the singed sheets. At the way Flame was hunched over, hands pressed against his blindfold. At the faint shimmer of heat distortion around him.
"Bad night?" Wemmbu asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"Yeah." Flame tried to smile, but it came out wrong. "Sorry, bro. I shouldn't have messaged you—"
"Stop apologizing." Wemmbu walked over, his claws retracted completely, and sat down on the bed next to Flame. Not too close, giving him space, but close enough that Flame could feel his presence. "What happened?"
"Just a nightmare." Flame's hands tightened against his blindfold. "It's stupid. I'm fine."
"You're literally burning your sheets."
Flame looked down. Sure enough, small scorch marks were appearing where his hands had been resting. "Oh. Shit."
"So. Not fine." Wemmbu's tail curled slightly. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really." But even as Flame said it, words were bubbling up in his throat, desperate to get out. "It's just—I’ve just been thinking about the Invisible Mafia.”
Something shifted in Wemmbu's expression, his eyes darkening.
"Ash—he asked people to give up things. Parts of themselves. To show loyalty, to show his power." Flame's hand moved back automatically, reaching for something that wasn't there, and he flinched when he felt only air. "But when it was my turn, he said I didn't have to. Said I was already powerful enough, already proven."
"But you did it anyway," Wemmbu said quietly.
"Yeah." Flame's voice cracked. "I insisted. You remember my tail in the past, right?”
Wemmbu’s own tail twitched self-consciously behind him slightly.
“I gave it to him. And I just—I wanted to prove I was committed. That I belonged. So I made him take it."
The phantom pain flared again, and Flame curled in on himself slightly, his breathing getting harsher. "He gave me an out and I didn't take it. What kind of idiot does that, bro?"
His voice broke completely, and the tears he'd been holding back started to fall, soaking into his already-damp blindfold.
"He said it wasn't necessary," Flame choked out. "And I did it anyway. I mutilated myself for approval that I already had. That's—bro, that's so much worse. I can't even blame him for it because he tried to stop me and I—"
"Stop." Wemmbu's voice was firm. "You were being manipulated, Flame. That's what manipulators do—they make you think it's your choice while they pull the strings."
"Bro, but I wanted to—"
"Because he made you want to." Wemmbu's tail swished, agitated. "The Mafia was the server's greatest threat, dude. They were going to take over everything. You think Ashswag got that powerful by accident? He knew exactly what he was doing."
Flame wiped at his blindfold uselessly. The tears wouldn't stop. "I can still feel it sometimes. Like it's still there. And I reach back to touch it and there's nothing and it—bro, it hurts. It still hurts and it's been almost a year."
"I know." Wemmbu's voice was softer than Flame had ever heard it. "Trauma doesn't just go away because time passes."
"I just—" Flame was properly crying now, his whole body shaking. "I don't want to be that person anymore. But every time I have that nightmare, I'm right back there. Right back to being the idiot who said yes."
Wemmbu was quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, he moved closer. His hand landed on Flame's shoulder—just resting there, grounding.
"You're not pathetic," Wemmbu said firmly. "You were someone who got caught up in the Mafia when they were at their strongest. That's not the same thing as being weak."
"Feels weak, bro."
"I know. But it's not." Wemmbu's hand squeezed slightly. "You know what I think? I think the fact that you're still here, still fighting, still trying to be better than you were—that's strength. Not the fake kind Ashswag sold."
Flame let out a wet, broken laugh. "You're really bad at comforting people, dude."
"I know. But I'm here anyway." Wemmbu's tail curled around to where Flame could see it—a deliberate gesture. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Something in Flame's chest cracked open at that. He turned toward Wemmbu, not caring that his face was a mess, not caring that he was falling apart in front of someone.
"I'm sorry for being so needy, bro. I know you didn't sign up for—"
"Stop." Wemmbu's voice was sharp now. "You're not needy. You had a nightmare about something traumatic and you reached out to someone you trust. That's not being needy. That's being human."
There was a pause. Then, awkwardly, Wemmbu said: "Do you... want a hug? Or something?"
Flame froze. A hug. When was the last time someone had offered him a hug? When was the last time someone had touched him with anything other than violence or clinical detachment?
He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing. Part of him desperately wanted it. Part of him was terrified of wanting it.
"I—bro, you don't have to—"
"Too late. I offered. Now I'm committed." And before Flame could protest further, Wemmbu's arms wrapped around him, pulling him into an awkward but genuine embrace.
The moment Wemmbu's arms closed around him, something in Flame completely shattered.
He burst into tears—real, ugly, desperate sobs that shook his entire body. His hands clutched at Wemmbu's shirt like a lifeline, and he couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop the way his body was reacting to the simple fact of being held.
"Sorry—sorry, bro, I'm—" Flame tried to pull away, embarrassed, but Wemmbu's arms tightened.
"Shut up. You're fine." Wemmbu's voice was so soft and out of character, it made Flame have goosebumps. "Just—let it out. Or whatever."
So Flame did. He cried until his throat was raw and his blindfold was completely soaked and his fire powers had finally, finally calmed down to something manageable. Wemmbu just held him through it, his tail curled around them both, his horns occasionally bonking against Flame's head but neither of them caring.
When Flame finally managed to stop crying, he felt hollowed out but lighter somehow. Like something that had been festering had finally been lanced.
"Sorry," he mumbled into Wemmbu's chest. "For the—everything."
"I told you to stop apologizing." But Wemmbu's voice was gentle. "You good?"
"Yeah. Better, bro." Flame slowly pulled back, wiping at his blindfold. "Thanks. For the—you know."
"The hug?"
"Yeah."
"Anytime." Wemmbu's tail uncurled, and he settled back on the bed. "Seriously. Next time just ask instead of having a breakdown first."
"I'll try, bro."
"Don't try. Do it. That's the deal."
"We have a deal now?"
"Yeah. You stuck with me when I wanted to be normal. I stick with you when you're having nightmares. That's the deal." Wemmbu's tail flicked. "Non-negotiable."
Flame felt fresh tears well up, but these ones were different. Less painful. "Thanks, bro."
"Stop thanking me. It's annoying."
But Wemmbu's hand stayed on Flame's shoulder, steady and solid and real.
They sat in silence for a while, Flame gradually getting his breathing under control. The phantom pain was still there—it was always there—but having Wemmbu next to him made it more bearable somehow.
"Hey, Wemmbu?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you stay, bro? Just for tonight?" Flame's voice was small. "I don't—I don't want to be alone right now."
Wemmbu's tail did that pleased curl thing. "Was already planning on it, idiot. Where else would I go?"
"You could go visit Egg.”
"I can do that tomorrow. Tonight I'm doing the 'make sure my friend doesn't burn down his base' thing." Wemmbu shifted, getting more comfortable. "Besides, you owe me for making me travel all the way out here."
"What do I owe you?"
"Extra food. Preferably something we cook up together again.”
Flame smiled—a real smile this time. "Deal, bro."
Wemmbu grabbed a spare blanket from Flame's chest and settled in on the floor next to the bed. His horns were visible in the darkness, his tail curled around himself.
"Wemmbu?" Flame said quietly.
"If you thank me again I'm leaving."
"I wasn't going to thank you. I was going to say you're a good friend, bro."
There was a pause. Then, so quietly Flame almost missed it: "You too."
Flame lay back down, his singed sheets uncomfortable but bearable. The pain was still there—it was always there—but it felt less overwhelming now. Less like he was drowning in it.
He wasn't alone. Not anymore.
He had someone who would come at 2 AM just because he sent a text. Someone who would sit with him while he fell apart and not judge him for it. Someone who would hug him when he was too touch-starved to ask for it properly.
"Hey, Flame?" Wemmbu's voice drifted up from the floor.
"Yeah, bro?"
"Next time you have a nightmare, text me sooner. Don't sit there having a panic attack for hours first."
"I'll try."
"Don't try. Do it. That's the deal, remember?"
"Right. The deal." Flame pulled his blanket up, feeling warmer in a way that had nothing to do with his fire powers. "Non-negotiable."
"Exactly."
Flame closed his eyes behind his blindfold. Sleep felt possible now, even if the nightmares might come back. Because even if they did, he knew he wouldn't have to face them alone.
The tail was gone. That part of him was never coming back.
But he had something Ashswag had never given him, something real and solid and unchosen.
He had a friend.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
In the morning, Flame woke to find Wemmbu still there, sprawled on the floor with his tail draped over his face like a makeshift blindfold. His horns had left dents in the pillows he'd stolen from Flame's bed at some point during the night.
Flame's sheets were definitely ruined—completely covered in scorch marks—but he didn't care.
He grabbed his communicator.
You whisper to Wemmbu: thanks for staying bro
You whisper to Wemmbu: even though youre a bed hog who stole all my pillows and left me with a single one]
A moment later, Wemmbu stirred, his tail moving away from his face. He grabbed his own communicator, typed something, then threw a pillow at Flame's head.
Wemmbu whispers to you: we're even now
Wemmbu whispers to you: also i want pancakes for breakfast
You whisper to Wemmbu: bro i dont know how to make pancakes
Wemmbu whispers to you: then we're going to minutetechs kitchen and figuring it out
You whisper to Wemmbu: its not even baking day
Wemmbu whispers to you: dont care
Flame couldn't help but smile. His tail was still gone. The phantom pain was still there. The nightmares would probably come back.
But right now, he had a friend demanding trauma recovery pancakes, and that felt like the most normal, wonderful thing in the world.
"Alright, bro," Flame said out loud, sitting up. "Let's go make some pancakes."
"They're going to be terrible," Wemmbu said, standing and stretching, before immediately bending down and throwing another pillow at Flame.
"OW BRO!”
"That's the spirit." Wemmbu's tail swished. "Come on. Before Minutetech wakes up and realizes we're using his kitchen off-schedule."
They headed out into the early morning light, toward the nearest End portal, already bickering.
And since the time Wemmbu made their friendship official, Flame’s mind didn’t wander off into the past.
He was too busy keeping up with his friend.