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Wemmbu was feeling restless. Like, extremely active today.
Any mob he’d see was instantly maced. He was skipping around like he was having the time of his life. Like he had no care for anything around him. Even at night — whenever he was hanging over with Egg — Egg could hear him giggling like some sort of maniac. Seriously, he was starting to think his demon friend was genuinely becoming akin to a stereotypical devil.
It was no doubt that even Zam had noticed what was going on with him. The hyperactiveness, the way he was so willing to do random activities just for the push of adrenaline.
And now, here he was…
“PLEASE, bro—” Wemmbu pleaded, shaking Zam by his shoulders and almost knocking the emperor out. “We have to play! Come on, surely volleyball can’t be such a stain on your reputation!”
…begging Zam to play volleyball for him.
“Okay— Okay, OKAY!” He yelled, shoving Wemmbu off of him as the demon simply laughed at his sudden exasperation. Zam pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning as if he’d just received an aching migraine. Wemmbu was truly just a hindrance to him.
“...Fine.” He crossed his arms, glancing away. “Just— not for too long. I got things to do.”
By things, he meant sit pretty on his throne, but he’d never admit that.
Zam could hear Wemmbu exclaim with an absurdly high-pitched ‘yay’, confident enough in Zam’s keenness, as if the emperor were truly excited to play sports with him. He grabbed his arm as the emperor yelped, dragging him away to God knows where.
“Seriously, I’ve never been so annoyed by you of all people!” Zam gritted his teeth, glaring at Wemmbu. The way he was so oddly… childish compared to his usual ardour frustrated him in a way that puzzled himself.
Wemmbu tugged his wrist once before finally letting go, rushing forwards while making sure he’d match most of his pace. “You’re just old.”
“I’m not—”
“And you’re always doing this weird elegant walk.” He gestured to the emperor’s whole being with his tail, pointing with a finger accusingly.
“...I’m going to get Flame to kill you one day.”
Zam crossed his arms, facing the alluring, gleaming ocean, its blues echoed from the sky above. He couldn’t help but think of—
A volleyball was shoved right into his face, knocking his thoughts out his skull and thrown from his ears.
“Hey—!” He choked out, quick to catch the ball before it fell to the sandy terrain. He brushed his nose with the back of his hand.
“Too slow,” Wemmbu humiliated with his nasally, mocking voice. He sat against a particular set of rubble as he took his armour off, revealing he’d been wearing a jovial set of clothes underneath. Which was totally, absolutely, definitely awesome because Zam himself had been forced to wear this eccentric — peasant-like, as he had described it — fashion as well.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes over from side to side. He let his arms pinwheel, somewhat more casually than his usual grace.
“Isn’t volleyball meant to be played with…” Zam glanced around, noticing the distinct lack of people. “Like, twelve people?”
Wemmbu lifted his shoulders in a hasty, dismissive gesture. “Close enough. They both involve two in their numerical form.”
“That’s not how maths works!” Zam’s eyebrows pressed, cringing. “And when did you get such… vocabulary?!”
“Are you seriously questioning my intelligence?”
“Absolutely! There’s no way a person like you—”
“And yet you let me work for you.” Wemmbu raised his eyebrows. “Crazy.”
…
The ball hit his nose, causing a throb to instantly initiate.
“...My bad.” He instantly apologised.
“Yeah, you're bad.” Zam scrunched his face, letting it relax with an instant sigh. He placed his hands on his hips. “Come on, let’s just get this over with.”
Wemmbu’s cheeky grin curved even more as he held the volleyball within his elbow and against the side of his torso. “Do you even know how to play?”
“I— Yes?!” Zam’s hand shot up, fingers to his chest as his expression was clearly vexed by the inquiry.
But even when being lightly passed to, he couldn’t dig the volleyball back. The scarce times he’d hit it, it’d go flying elsewhere. Though, he was moderately better at setting.
On the other hand, Wemmbu was excelling in the two basics — receiving (or digging) and setting — only lacking a little in serving.
“Bro, you suck.” The demon caught the volleyball with his tail, wrapping it carefully around. He walked forwards to Zam, grabbing his wrists abruptly as he inspected his forearms.
“What are you—”
“Shut up.” Wemmbu exasperatedly sighed. “Your wrists and forearms are really red ‘cuz you keep on hitting it on the bone instead of the flat surfaces,” he traced the said surfaces with his palm before showcasing how to hold your hands when digging. “Hold your hand like this.”
Zam hesitated for a moment, asking himself why he should be listening to his own servant. But… for once, he used common sense, acknowledging that it was a stupid thing to be stubborn about. He copied how Wemmbu positioned his hands.
“Good.” He hopped backwards, a smirk painting his face again. “Try this, yeah?” Wemmbu tossed the ball to himself before setting.
This…
‘This is the perfect hit!’ Zam thought to himself and for a brief moment, he let out a chuckle paired with a smile that made him feel like himself.
He didn’t understand why exactly he was feeling so naive all of a sudden. It was just volleyball. It was just a sport. Yet, he couldn’t help himself but understand the sense of delight Wemmbu had probably been experiencing.
The volleyball was just about to hit his arms and it felt like time had slowed down just for this dramatically theatrical moment.
Something hit him. Solid.
It wasn’t the volleyball. The ball fell to the side as it bounced off his forearms.
He noticed Wemmbu’s aghast stare. At him.
Not directly at him, but at his stomach.
And he looked down at the warmth that had spurted from his torso.
The once crystal clear vision of the demon blurred as he felt a sudden tug on his arms before hands pressed his shoulders, laying him down carefully as if Zam himself were made of fragile glass.
“Zam— Stay with me, okay?” The voice seemed far away despite how he could tell how close the person was. The alarm in their voice was clear as they trembled like him.
‘I’m not…’
“Going…” The word slipped from his mind and out loud.
The frown on the person’s face deepened.
Zam gazed hazily at them. “Where did Wemmbu—” He choked for a moment. It felt like his throat was both dry and traced with a metallic, wet substance.
“I’m right here, idiot.”
So that’s who it was…
Zam’s vision faded in and out, watching as Wemmbu began to type something on his communicator. He’d never seen the demon so panicked for someone like him. He’d only seen that fear once but couldn’t seem to recall the exact moment.
Wemmbu continued to mumble about something like the universe having something against him and Spoke being an asshole for doing that.
Ah, right.
Weren’t they hunting for Spoke anyways? To ban him and all.
So that was who attacked him. Who wanted him dead. Ironic, considering that their feelings seemed to be mutual now.
“Why didn’t you…” Zam slurred before trailing off, the throb that began in his head too painful to process a full sentence right now.
“Because you’re dying!” Wemmbu hissed, putting down his communicator haphazardly against the sand. “I can go kill that voidling later. I just need you to stay awake and for Mane, or Pangi— just— anyone, I need anyone to get supplies because I had obviously not planned for—!” His voice cracked between his words.
“They’re taking too long… too—”
“Wemmbu.”
His head perked up, glossy tears that appeared from frustration as the demon’s claws dug into the sleeve of Zam’s blazer.
He put on a weary smile. “Can I… tell you something?”
Wemmbu blinked thrice. A scolding insult lured over the tip of his tongue, but he bit back with a subtle nod.
Zam’s eyes drooped a little more, turning his head with fatigued effort as he looked up to the clear sky.
“I never trusted you.”
“...Wha—”
“Let me finish,” Zam interrupted his near-outburst with a mumble so quiet Wemmbu wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t trying to listen to the last bits of his voice. “I never trusted you. But,”
“Seeing you like this… I— I originally thought you’d betray me one day. Because you were known for that.”
“But now, I can see that you care. Even if—”
“Stop saying that bullshit.” Wemmbu’s voice was flat as his eyes narrowed, trying so desperately to shut away the tears that threatened to seep. “Stop. Just stop.”
“—I thought you were never going to change.”
The air stilled between the isolated two and at that moment, they seemed to both notice everything about each other. One more than the other.
It hurt.
Physically, emotionally, mentally — to put it blunt, it hurt the both of them. There was no other way to say it.
“Thanks,” Zam whispered, hitching as Wemmbu tried to put pressure so desperately against the bleeding opening. “A lot, Wemmbu. A lot.”
The last thing he could hear before it all went out was another few mumbles about getting revenge.
Wemmbu’s head jerked to the side, heat flaring brightly as the sting took a moment to catch up.
“Pangi—” Mane tried to stop him, but one glare told him everything.
The demon stilled, still in brief shock from everything that had just happened.
“What is wrong with you?! How do you— How do you just not account for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING and—!” Pangi heaved, fisting his hands. “Zam, he…”
“Pangi.”
“—and you. Oh, you just LET HIM—”
“PANGI!”
The two of them stilled as he turned to Mane, tears already draining his face of his usual exultation. Mane approached a few steps forward, enough to at least make sure he was some sort of barrier despite not being directly between the two.
“...We get how awful you feel,” He began, voice low and exhausted of any emotion. “but don’t attack Wemmbu because he hadn’t prepared for an attack.”
“We’re all hurt by the news, and…” Mane glanced over at Wemmbu, the demon’s amethyst eyes already clouded from overthinking.
“It’s not like he’s feeling any better.”