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The clashes of swords sent sparks into the air as Wemmbu staggered back from the overwhelming pressure. The slowfalling effect swirling around his body wouldn’t expire for the next two minutes and he had nothing to do other than fight in the style he was inferior in, otherwise Flame would just not shut his ass up about how ‘unfair’ he was.
Meanwhile the other player, Flamefrags, was relishing in the fact that Wemmbu wasn’t able to use his maces to fight. It gave Flame an upper hand since Wemmbu refused to face him with a sword knowing that he’d lose.
Even though, Wemmbu wasn’t awful with a sword, he could hold his footing and attack very well against average players. Unfortunately Flame was not an average player.
But, today, something was terribly wrong Wemmbu.
He couldn’t block even the simplest of attacks and had his totem pop for the third time in the past hour, forcing him to restock more often, which ended up in Flame snatching a strength shulker on the way.
Flame could very easily notice that Wemmbu had grown weary into the fight. He had started staggering and his movements had turned… stiff, not to mention his totem popping from hits that wouldn’t be able to pop his totem in the first place unless his health was already low. But Flame had seen Wemmbu eat several gapples, how come his health wasn’t full?
Right as Flame was pondering while defending himself from Wemmbu’s mace attacks, Wemmbu suddenly staggered and fired the windcharge the wrong way, ending up with his last windcharge available, in waste.
“What? You got nothing left, bro?”
Wemmbu looked up from his inventory and Flame got taken aback by how pale his face was.
While Flame was busy trying to comprehend why the fight got Wemmbu in a state this bad, Wemmbu equipped his elytra and Flame couldn’t help but hear the wince as he did so. Normally elytras wouldn’t be painful to wear unless you had an injury on your back, but why would…
Then it clicked.
Wemmbu was stiff and pale because he already had an open injury. And it was on his back.
Flame had noticed Wemmbu wasn’t using his elytra-mace as often, since it was Wemmbu’s main playstyle— which was odd because Wemmbu abused it like his life depended on it— but Flame didn’t think much of it and assumed he was lazy. Now he knew why.
Just as Wemmbu was getting ready to use his rockets to start elytra macing, he staggered and slammed his mace on the ground to stay upright. Flame immediately noticed something was going horribly wrong as Wemmbu swayed and collapsed on the ground before Flame launched forward and steadied him by the arms.
“Dude– What the hell?? What’s going on??”
Wemmbu only shot him a hazy glare before going completely limp. Flame’s heart dropped.
“Wemmbu bro! What the hell is going on????” Flame exclaimed as he checked for a pulse, and thankfully, it was there, even if it was slow. He was, not an exaggeration, utterly confused. Why did Wemmbu not treat his wound? Why did he start fighting Flame if he knew he had a wound this bad? What the hell was his problem?
Flame now had his rival, his enemy, wounded, in his arms.
What the hell.
Flame wanted to slap him back to consciousness and ask him what his problem was, yell and scream at him for ending up as a burden in Flame’s arms. Or maybe,
He was simply concerned. Flame crossed out the possibility in his mind. ‘Nope, not that. No. Not at all. Never.’ Wemmbu is his rival. Him dropping unconscious in Flame’s arms did not totally make his heart drop down to his ass. He was totally not mad because Wemmbu didn’t take care of himself in time and acted rash. He was mad because he now had a burden in his arms. Totally. Yeah. That’s it.
As Flame was thinking of where he could possibly drop Wemmbu off to, so he doesn’t get a murder charge, a very bright idea lit up in Flame’s mind.
What was the wound that caused Wemmbu to end like this in the first place?
Curiosity got the best of him as he laid Wemmbu down on his stomach and unstrapped Wemmbu’s chestplate before taking off his shirt.
Holy shit.
The wound wasn’t huge but it was long, dragging all the way from Wemmbu’s shoulder to the left side of his waist, and it was no regular wound either. It was poisoned, ending up with no totems or gapples to be able to heal it without direct manual intervention. So that’s why he winced, Flame thought.
It was a horrid sight, but Flame had seen worse.
Considering the effects of poison, Wemmbu probably got this recently and didn’t have time to either get help, or, no one wanted to help. He just happened to meet Flame on the way while searching for help.
Flame felt somewhat bad for interfering with Wemmbu’s path to heal his wound, but he had no time to worry now since it had already happened. A little more time spent doing nothing would result in the poison spreading everywhere in his body as it slowly killed Wemmbu. He really wanted to drop him off but he had the heart to not do so.
He checked the coordinates for the nearest stronghold and groaned as he found out it’s millions of blocks away. Flame couldn’t go there in time since he had no elytra, and there were no ender pearl cannons in sight.
Flame huffed in annoyance as he lifted Wemmbu up from the ground and started tridenting his way to his own base.
.
.
.
.
The base was oddly warm and calming for a player like Flamefrags.
Immediately after arriving at his base, Flame dropped Wemmbu on his bed, laying him stomach down as he applied various antidotes for the poison. Flame had no idea what kinda poison the wound was infected with so he was kind of bullshitting it– but he prayed that he got it right instead of accidentally killing Wemmbu more.
Luckily, the antidote did seem to work as the pus around the injury cleared up. Just as Flame was brewing regen pots on the side, he heard a noise coming from the bed.
“Uuuggghhhhh…” Wemmbu had woken up already.
Consciousness unfolded in layers. First, he noticed the warmth in his body as the antidote took effect. Next, the cold embrace of the soft sheets underneath him. And finally, the sight of FlameFrags, his rival, staring at him with a concerned look on his face. It took him another second to realize he dropped unconscious in the fight.
“You’re awake already? Huh.” Flame said while checking Wemmbu’s pulse on his wrist. His heart was beating a little fast but it was nothing serious. The antidote seemed like it worked perfectly, maybe even a bit over the top.
“How do you feel?” Flame continued, but with the hazy and confused look on Wemmbu’s face, it seemed like he wasn’t answering anytime soon.
“Alright. Don’t need to answer me bro,” Wemmbu vaguely noticed Flame cleaning something in his hands. “Unfortunately for you, gaps don't work on injuries like these. You could’ve died.”
“Seriously bro, what is your problem? Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell me?” The last part he didn’t mean to voice out loud. Flame mentally facepalmed as something in Wemmbu’s expression shifted. Flame attempted to change the topic— “Uh– I need to stitch you up. This might hurt, don’t move alright?”
Flame’s confusingly cold fingers felt like paradise against Wemmbu’s skin each time they brushed over despite the stitches hurting like hell. Wemmbu’s skin, now warm due to the remnants of the poison lingering in his blood since the antidote still hadn’t gotten rid of the poison yet.
As Flame stitched the wound on Wemmbu’s back, Wemmbu finally spoke in a broken and raspy voice; “What happened? Why did you take me in?”
Flame paused before resuming his actions. “What? Did you expect me to drop you off there like you were some carcass?”
“I did.”
“Oh.” Flame wasn’t surprised. He’d expect the same as well. “…still,”
Abruptly Wemmbu added– “Thank you.”
This was awkward as hell. I mean, stitching up your enemy while he’s laying on your bed? Not to mention the stupid grateful talk. Flame wishes he could shove a gapple down Wemmbu’s mouth to shut him off. “…Yeah, you’re welcome bro, I guess, whatever.”
“…why is it so cold in your base?”
Flame, looking at the fireplace situated right next to the Wemmbu on the bed; “…….”
Silence enveloped both afterwards, but Flame’s thoughts ran like a river. After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Flame finally said “Why the hell did you start fighting me when you were already injured, bro? What the hell is your problem?”
Wemmbu rolled his eyes. “Take a fat guess, idiot, if you hadn’t showed up while I was raiding a base for antidotes then maybe I would’ve gotten treatment earlier. You just had to fight me, didn’t you?”
Oh.
So Flame was just stupid huh. But—
“How the hell were you expecting to heal yourself with only antidotes, are you dumb?! A wound like this would clearly need stitching to heal with gapples after poison as well!”
“Well I was on my way to get it stitched up if you-!” Wemmbu cut himself off to not force this pointless argument further. “Whatever bro. I already said thank you. Why do you care about the details anyways?”
“Maybe because I care about you? Hello??”
Silence.
A looong, dragged out, awkward silence.
Flamefrags facepalms. Physically this time.
“I- you- what?” Wemmbu mutters while Flame was busy hiding his face that was rapidly heating up. Why. Why is he stupid. Why did he say that out loud. “Nothing bro. Don’t move.” Flame had slammed Wemmbu’s face down to the pillow and resumed stitching up the wound.
“ow– What the hell is wrong with you??” Just as Flame slammed Wemmbu’s head on the pillow, grabbing him by the back of the neck, he felt an abnormal amount of heat on Wemmbu’s nape.
“What the hell? Bro–“
Ooooooooh.
So that’s why Wemmbu asked why it was cold in his base when he had a fireplace next to him.
Wemmbu had a fever. Fun. Flame had another thing to take care of. Again.
“What? What’s going on?” Wemmbu’s voice wasn’t exactly clear, it was more nasal, which combined with the fever, pointed towards the poison. “You have a fever. Stay still. I’ll go get some ice,”
Since Flame was a fighter, and he worked alone, whenever he got a health problem varying from a cold to an injury, he’d take care of it himself. Stitches, sanitizing, meds and pots— they were all done by him. He’d gotten better over time, but he had never used these on another person before since he was- well, solo most of the time.
As he left the room to search around in the chests for something that would reduce Wemmbu’s fever, the other man laying on the bed started studying the room out of boredom.
Flame’s base, unlike his rather violent nature, was decorated with warm tones of red combined with bricks, accompanied by plants of several species. The base had a burnt wood and cinnamon-esque scent to it that calmed your nerves. Chests and shulkers were everywhere, some open and some closed tight. Wemmbu looked to his left and noticed the fireplace next to him.
Oh. Okay. Imagine having a fireplace in your room. Just how resistant is Flame to heat?
Flame had found a bag of ice somewhere in the kitchen before walking to the bedroom Wemmbu was in, opening the door gently to not startle the other man.
The regen pots had finished brewing on the side, ready to be applied as Flame sat back on his chair to tend to the sick Wemmbu on the bed.
Placing the bag of ice on top of his head gently, “How do you feel?”
“…Uh, Better. I think.” Wemmbu’s eyes were still hazy but Flame guessed it was normal for Wemmbu.
“Yeah? That’s great.” Flame was thinking to himself more than anything, yet accidentally mumbling out loud as he was focused on treating the wound. He didn’t expect the other man on the bed to hear him, but he did, and Flame hated himself as Wemmbu giggled out loud. “The hell are you giggling for? You almost died if it wasn’t for me.”
“I know. That’s why.”
“???????” Flame did not understand this guy at all. He’d rather not.
A couple of minutes later, Flame was done with the stitches, applied the regeneration potions & had wrapped Wemmbu’s wound in bandages so it wouldn’t get infected as easily.
Now using a wet cloth rather than an ice bag to refrain from causing hypothermia, replacing it every now and then, Wemmbu looked better than ever.
Flame would check if his eyes were still hazy or not if it wasn’t for the fact that the guy was fast asleep.
He’d fallen asleep while Flame was bandaging him and hadn’t woken up since. He looked like a sick Victorian child which made Flame almost burst out laughing on several occasions.
Checking his fever and pulse for one last time before he confirmed his fever was gone and pulse was steady, Flame picked up the cloth and pulled up the blanket up to Wemmbu’s shoulders. It was already late at night, no way in hell would that dumbass be able to go to the nearest stronghold. No way in hell would Flame let him.
Flame looked behind one last time before closing the door and approaching the sofa facing his unfortunate fate tonight.
.
.
.
.
.
Wemmbu had woken up, but Flame had woken up earlier.
“Morning. How do you feel?” Flame didn’t have his blindfold on. Wemmbu had never seen him without his blindfold before, it was a strange sight, but he got used to it easily.
Right. After collapsing in a fight and being taken care of by your enemy, SLEEPING the night, you just had to act like nothing happened. Flame noticed the confused look on Wemmbu’s face and silently chuckled to himself.
“Uh. Well? I guess. Not bad.”
“Decent answer.” Flame was looking through the chests near the bed. Looking up as he found what he needed, “I’ll have to change your bandages, but first, are you hungry?”
Wemmbu’s stomach growled. He wished the earth would split open and swallow him right at that moment.
Flame looked at him before bursting out laughing, only making Wemmbu’s embarrassment worse; “Okay, okay. I getchu bro. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
Flame left the room to get breakfast, and indirectly left Wemmbu alone with his thoughts.
Why the fuck was his enemy taking care of him like he is some sort of royalty being?
Taking care of his wounds, curing his fever and staying by his side as he did so, letting him sleep on his bed, hell, just taking care of him in general instead of leaving him to die, confused Wemmbu.
He had never been this carefully handled by any of his teammates. Most of the time, he’d be left to die since he was ‘powerful.’ Nobody would really care unless it directly affected them.
But Flame had no problem handling all this trouble by himself even when they weren’t even allies. It made Wemmbu suspicious. It made him wonder if Flame had any ulterior motives to this whole thing..
Just as Wemmbu was pondering, Flame opened the door with a tray of breakfast.
“Here. Enjoy.”
The sequence of eating breakfast was.. awkward. Flame sat by his side with his arms crossed and eyes closed as Wemmbu munched on toasted bread. What the hell is this guy’s problem? Why is he aurafarming next to a sick guy?
Right when Wemmbu finished his breakfast, Flamefrags opened his eyes and retrieved the tray. “Wait a little. Don’t go to bed just yet.” Was this guy a mind reader?
A couple minutes later, Flame came back with a bunch of regen pots and a bundle of bandages in his hand.
He slowly took off Wemmbu’s bandages to not irritate the injury and started applying the regen pots.
“Hey,” Wemmbu started. “Why did you help me?”
Flame paused. He didn’t know why either. He resumed his actions as he said– “I guess I just wanted to.”
“Really? So you have no ulterior motives like killing me or taking me hostage for your own benefits?”
Flame paused again. “…Are you stupid???”
“What?? Am I not wrong for thinking so? I mean-“ Flame raised a hand to steady Wemmbu’s shoulder before he accidentally opened up a stitch. “Sorry. What I’m saying is,”
“You see me collapse in fight, and your first instinct isn’t to kill me or leave me there, it’s to take me into your base and take care of me like i’m your teammate or something? And not to mention— you don’t even want anything for it. You say that you have no ulterior motives to this whole thing at all? Nothing in particular? Just how suspicious is that?”
Flame honestly did not expect Wemmbu to talk this much from his second day of recovering. He could feel a headache forming.
“Dude- I just didn’t want to leave you there, okay? Just agree on that and move on.”
“Okay but why?”
Flame scoffed before wrapping up the last bandage over Wemmbu’s wound. “How many times do I have to say this? I don’t have bad intentions Wemmbu. If I did, I would not have helped you with your wound and I would’ve just killed you there. You know how I work.” Wemmbu sat in silence. He didn’t look like he was convinced at all.
“..Look, Wemmbu. I know what you’ve been through. You’ve been backstabbed a dozen of times and taken advantage of only to be thrown away a couple hundred times. I’ve been too.”
“I know how you feel. I know you are hesitant. But I'm not doing this to throw you away in the end.” Flame lifted his hand again to place it on Wemmbu’s shoulder. “I’m doing this because I know how it feels. I’m doing this because I care, bro. I’m doing this because I know how it feels to be thrown away. I know how it feels to not be cared about.” Wemmbu had finally turned his head back to look at Flame.
Without a single word uttered, Wemmbu launches forward and embraces Flame. A tight, warm one. The kind of one that spoke louder than words.