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Lomedy stepped out of his farmhouse that morning, the wooden door creaking softly behind him as he made his way toward the rows of crops he had grown so carefully over time.
The early sunlight stretched across the land, casting a warm glow over everything, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe calmly.
This routine was familiar—something he could control when everything else in his mind felt anything but…
Maybe today will be quiet, he thought, gripping the handle of his watering can just a little tighter than usual as he approached one of the smaller plants.
“There you go… you are growing just fine,” Lomedy said softly, his voice gentle and steady, as if speaking kindly to the plant would somehow make things feel normal again.
As he poured the water, he noticed the plant tremble slightly.
At first, he told himself it was nothing.
It has to be the wind, right?
But the air felt still.
“…That’s strange,” Lomedy murmured, his brows slowly knitting together as unease crept into his chest, his instincts telling him something was off even before he fully understood why.
Then the plant giggled.
The sound made Lomedy felt a chill down his spine.
Lomedy immediately froze, his breath catching as his thoughts stumbled over themselves, trying to rationalize what he had just heard.
No, that is not possible. Plants do not—
“What… what was that?” Lomedy asked, his voice faltering despite his attempt to stay composed, his eyes fixed on the plant as if looking away would somehow make it worse.
The surface of the plant shifted unnaturally, forming a face that twisted into a wide, mocking grin before bursting into laughter.
“It is your fault that he is gone, and you have always known that, have you not?” the plant said, its voice sharp and taunting, each word laced with cruel certainty.
Lomedy’s heart dropped.
No.
No, no, no, no, not this again.
“That’s not true… I- I did what I could,” Lomedy replied, but even as he spoke, his voice felt weak to his own ears, as if he was trying to convince himself more than anything else.
“You stood there and let him walk away when you knew exactly what would happen,” the plant continued, its tone pressing harder, refusing to let him escape. “You could have tried harder, but you just COULDN’T.”
Lomedy’s grip on the watering can loosened slightly.
The memory came back whether he wanted it or not.
“I told you to stop going out like that! what you’re doing is too dangerous..! one day you might not even come back,” Lomedy had said, his voice tense, his frustration barely hiding the fear underneath as he stood in front of his friend.
Why did I not say more? Why did I let him just—
His friend laughed, as if the concern meant nothing.
“You are overreacting again, I can handle myself,” his friend replied casually, his tone dismissive, like the danger was a joke he did not take seriously.
Lomedy remembered the way his chest had tightened.
“I am not overreacting, I am worried about you because I care,” Lomedy had insisted, his voice rising slightly, desperation slipping through as he tried to make his friend understand.
Why did you not listen?
His friend turned away.
“I am not going to stop just because you are scared,” he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.
And Lomedy had stayed there, rooted to the ground as if his feet refused to move, his thoughts tangled between fear and hesitation that he could not untangle in time.
Why did I not follow him when I still had the chance? he questioned himself, the regret pressing heavily against his chest as the memory lingered longer than it should have.
Then the next memory crashed into him with even greater force, overwhelming everything else before he could steady himself.
His friend returning, barely standing, covered in blood, all gored—simmering from the stench of red.
No… no, not this part—
“Wait, what happened to you?! Just stay still, I- I’ll be right thetre—to help you!” Lomedy had shouted, his voice breaking as panic surged through him, his body already moving before his thoughts could catch up.
He ran forward.
I can still reach him—I can still—
Suddenly everything went black.
The farm disappeared.
The sky vanished.
“Huh..?” Lomedy said as we looked around him.
Only his friend remained, standing in the void, staring directly at him.
“This is your fault because you did not stop me when you had the chance,” his friend said, his voice calm but unbearably heavy, like a truth Lomedy could not escape.
Lomedy felt his body lock in place.
“I tried… I really tried… I just did not know what else to do,” Lomedy said, his voice cracking under the weight of guilt, his thoughts spiraling as he searched desperately for something—anything—that could justify himself.
But nothing came, no answer or justification rising to meet the weight of his thoughts, leaving only a hollow silence that made his chest tighten further.
The ground beneath him suddenly gave out without warning, and before he could react, he felt himself falling, the darkness swallowing him completely as the sense of control slipped entirely from his grasp.
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Lomedy jolted awake, gasping as if he had been dragged out of deep water. His hands flew to his chest, gripping tightly as his heart pounded violently, each beat echoing in his ears.
“Why, why, why… do I have to keep seeing him like that,” Lomedy whispered, his voice trembling as he struggled to steady his breathing, “It’s already in the past..” his thoughts still tangled in the remnants of the dream.
He turned his head toward the clock.
4:00 AM.
“Why does it always feel so real?” he muttered, his voice quieter now, filled with frustration and exhaustion as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
“I should have stopped him… even if he hated me for it,” Lomedy said softly, his voice breaking as the guilt settled in again, heavier than before.
He covered his face with both of his hands, as if hiding could somehow hold everything together, but the tears slipped through anyway, warm and relentless against his palms.
His shoulders trembled despite his effort to stay quiet, the grief forcing its way out no matter how much he tried to contain it.
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Lomedy had not been expecting any visitors that day, so when a sudden knock echoed through the quiet of his farmhouse, it immediately caught his attention and stirred a faint sense of unease in his chest.
He paused for a moment where he stood, his hand hovering near the door as his thoughts quickly ran through possibilities, none of which felt particularly reassuring given how isolated his farm usually was.
Who would even come all the way out here…?
With a small exhale, Lomedy reached for the handle and slowly opened the door, only for his expression to shift into clear surprise the moment he saw who was standing there.
“Flame…? I was not expecting you to show up here like this, especially with… all of them,” Lomedy said, his voice filled with confusion as his gaze moved from Flame to the four dogs beside him, their fur visibly dusted with ash and dirt as if they had just come from something chaotic and exhausting.
Flame looked noticeably worn down, not just in appearance but in the way his shoulders carried tension, as if whatever had happened had drained more out of him than he was willing to admit outright. He adjusted his stance slightly, one hand moving to the back of his neck in a small, habitual gesture that hinted at discomfort.
“Hey bro—yeah, I know this is sudden, but I did not really have anywhere else to go, so I figured this place would be the safest option for now,” Flame replied, his tone quieter than usual as exhaustion and mild frustration lingered beneath his words, making it clear that the situation had not gone in his favor.
Lomedy’s brows pulled together as concern quickly replaced his initial confusion, his attention sharpening as he took in the details more carefully.
“What happened to you dude? You look like you went through something serious, and those dogs do not look any better either,” Lomedy asked, his voice softening as genuine worry crept in, his eyes lingering on the ash and subtle injuries that told a story Flame had not fully explained yet.
Flame let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to collect his thoughts before speaking.
“My base got destroyed earlier, and I was completely outnumbered, so there was not much I could do except get out before things got worse,” Flame explained, his tone carrying a mix of irritation and resignation, as though he was still processing the loss but had already accepted that dwelling on it would not change anything.
Lomedy felt something tighten in his chest at that explanation, the weight of it settling in as he considered what it must have been like to face something like that alone.
Outnumbered… he must have barely made it out.
Without hesitating any further, Lomedy stepped aside and opened the door wider, silently making his decision.
“You should come inside first because standing out here is not going to help anything, and you clearly need somewhere to rest for now,” Lomedy said, his voice gentle but firm, leaving no room for refusal as he gestured for Flame to enter.
Flame gave a small nod in response, clearly relieved even if he did not show it too openly, and stepped inside with the dogs following closely behind him. The atmosphere inside the farmhouse felt noticeably calmer compared to the tension outside, though a quiet heaviness still lingered between them as they settled in.
As they sat down, Flame explained more about what had happened, going into greater detail about how the group that attacked him had been larger than expected and far too coordinated for him to handle alone. He mentioned how staying any longer would have only made things worse, and how he needed somewhere low-profile where no one would think to look for him.
Lomedy listened carefully, his expression thoughtful as he processed everything.
He came here because no one would pay attention to me…
That realization felt strange, but not entirely unwelcome.
“Well, you can stay here for as long as you need because it is not like anyone comes looking for trouble out here anyway, and you should be safe while you recover,” Lomedy said after a moment, his voice steady but warm, offering reassurance without hesitation as he met Flame’s gaze.
Flame looked at him for a second before giving a small nod, some of the tension in his posture easing slightly.
“Yeah… that helps more than you probably realize right now, so I appreciate it,” Flame replied, his tone quieter as genuine gratitude slipped through, even if he kept it understated.
There was a brief pause before Flame glanced toward the couch, clearly considering something.
“Would it be alright if I used the bedroom instead of the couch, since I am planning to let the dogs rest there and it would be easier to keep them all in one place,” Flame asked, his voice casual but practical, already thinking ahead about how to manage the situation.
Lomedy stilled for a moment.
His fingers curled slightly against his sleeve as his thoughts immediately drifted to the nights he had been struggling through.
The nightmares… what if it happens again?
A flicker of hesitation crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside.
There is someone else here tonight… maybe it will not be the same.
“Ah… yeah sure bro, that should be fine, you can take the bedroom if it makes things easier for you and the dogs,” Lomedy said, forcing a small nod as he looked back at Flame, his voice steady enough to hide the brief uncertainty he had just felt.
Flame nodded without noticing the hesitation, already shifting his attention toward settling in.
“Alright, that works, thanks for letting me stay here bro,” Flame said simply, his tone more relaxed now as the immediate problem had been solved.
Lomedy looked away for a moment, his thoughts lingering quietly beneath the surface.
Maybe tonight will be different.
At least, that was what he told himself as he tried to believe it.
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That night, Lomedy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts refused to settle. He shifted under the blankets repeatedly, unable to relax.
“If I fall asleep, it is just going to happen again, and I do not think I can handle that tonight,” Lomedy admitted quietly, his voice tense as anxiety built in his chest.
The door opened, and Flame stepped in, setting his things down before glancing at him.
“You look like something is seriously bothering you, so are you actually okay or are you just saying that?” Flame asked, his tone more direct this time, his gaze steady as he clearly did not believe the surface-level answer.
Lomedy hitched and hesitated, then forced a small shrug.
“I am fine, I just have a lot on my mind about the farm, so it is nothing you need to worry about,” Lomedy replied, his voice slightly strained as he avoided eye contact.
Flame narrowed his eyes slightly, unconvinced.
“You are a terrible liar, though—I am not going to push it right now, so just try to get some rest and maybe let’s talk about it tomorrow morning,” Flame said, his tone softer but still carrying quiet concern as he lay down.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight… and thank you,” Lomedy added quietly, his voice softer as he turned away, the gratitude subtle but genuine.
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At 2:47 AM, Flame woke up with a quiet groan, his throat dry as he pushed himself up and made his way to get some water, expecting to return to a still and silent room.
However, the moment he stepped back inside, his attention immediately shifted to Lomedy, whose restless movements and uneven breathing made it clear that something was wrong.
“Dude—Lomedy, wake up..! you are not okay right now,” Flame said immediately, his voice filled with concern as he moved closer and pulled the blankets down.
“I’m sorry..” Lomedy’s face was tense, tears slipping down as he spoke weakly.
“It was my fault, I should have stopped you,” Lomedy mumbled, his voice fragile even in sleep. “I should have done something more..”
Flame’s expression shifted, understanding settling in.
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Flame was already aware of Lomedy’s dead friend. Back when they were fixing the farm together, Lomedy could not stop talking about him, his voice always carrying a strange mix of fondness and quiet sadness.
He had said that his friend was a lot like Flame—always fighting, always moving, throwing himself into conflicts without hesitation, going in and out of places that would inevitably lead to chaos.
Lomedy never really understood why his friend was like that, and maybe that was what bothered him the most.
He remembered clearly the way Lomedy had looked at him back then—hesitant, almost afraid—as he admitted, “I know I cannot stop you from doing what you do… but please be careful, alright? You can always come back here. I will be here if you need someone to keep you grounded… or to patch you up.” Flame had smiled at that, a small but genuine one, and accepted it without much thought at the time.
Now, watching Lomedy like this, Flame felt something heavier settle in his chest.
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Lomedy looked completely disheveled in his sleep, his expression tense and worn as if even rest could not give him any real peace, and the quiet sound of his uneven breathing made it clear that whatever he was seeing was not something gentle.
Flame stood there for a moment, watching him, knowing he should go back to sleep since it was already deep into the night, but the sight of Lomedy like this made it impossible to just ignore. With a quiet exhale, Flame stepped closer, carefully wiping away the tears that kept slipping down Lomedy’s face before brushing his hair away from his damp forehead, his touch slow and deliberate as if trying not to startle him awake.
“…Why would you believe that, do you really think it was your fault bro?” Flame murmured, his voice softer than usual as he adjusted the blankets around Lomedy, tucking them in more securely so they would not bunch up uncomfortably around him.
He paused briefly, letting out a low breath as he studied Lomedy’s expression, noticing how tightly he seemed to be holding onto something even in his sleep.
“You were not the cause of his death, Loms… you could not control what he chose to do, no matter how much you cared about him,” Flame continued, his tone steady but gentle, as he lightly patted Lomedy’s head in a quiet attempt to soothe him, his movements carrying a kind of patience he did not usually show.
Lomedy’s breathing hitched slightly, but it began to steady little by little, his tense expression softening just enough to show that the distress was easing.
“I am still here, and I am not leaving like that, so you do not have to carry that fear with me,” Flame said, his voice low but firm, the words coming more naturally than he expected as he shifted slightly and sat down on the edge of his makeshift bed on the floor.
When Lomedy leaned subtly into his touch, almost unconsciously seeking comfort, Flame hesitated for a brief second before letting his hand slide down to Lomedy’s, gently taking it in his own.
“You are not alone in this, so stop blaming yourself for everything,” Flame added softly, giving his hand a small, grounding squeeze as he settled into place, deciding without another thought to stay like that.
He remained there through the quiet of the night, holding onto Lomedy’s hand as his breathing finally evened out, and only after making sure he had calmed down did Flame allow himself to close his eyes, his grip never loosening as he drifted back to sleep.
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Morning came slowly, sunlight filtering through the windows as Lomedy stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open with a faint sense of confusion lingering in his mind.
He stayed still for a moment, staring blankly ahead as he tried to recall the nightmare that should have been there, but no matter how hard he reached for it, there was nothing—only a strange, unfamiliar sense of quiet.
“…That is odd… why can I not remember it at all?” Lomedy murmured to himself, his voice soft and puzzled as his brows furrowed slightly, his thoughts turning over the absence rather than the fear he had grown used to.
As he shifted slightly, still lost in thought, he felt something warm against his hand, something solid that definitely had not been there before. His expression slowly changed from confusion to realization as he glanced down—and froze completely the moment he saw that he was holding Flame’s hand.
“…Why am I holding your hand right now, dude?!” Lomedy suddenly shouted, his voice shooting up in shock as he jerked slightly, his face flushing almost instantly as embarrassment and panic rushed in all at once.
Flame jolted awake at the sudden noise, his grip instinctively tightening for a brief second before he blinked up groggily, clearly disoriented from being pulled out of sleep so abruptly.
“What—bro, why are you yelling like something is wrong when you are the one grabbing onto me first thing in the morning?” Flame shot back, his voice rough with sleep and confusion as he squinted at Lomedy, trying to make sense of the situation while still half-asleep.
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