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The music was way to loud for a collage party.
It bleed out onto the hallway, bass thudding through the walls, voices overlapping into one another messy and indistinct someone shoved the door open with a chair, so people drift in and out without knocking.
Inside it's worse.
Too many bodies too much heat too many conversations that don't matter.
Flame is in the middle of it all, grinning like this was exactly what he wanted-half-standing on a couch, calling out to someone across the room, drink in hand.
Wemmbu stayed near the kitchen.
Half out of the way and lose enough to leave.
He’s already thinking about it—how long he has to stay before it’s polite to disappear—when the door opens again.
And something in his chest drops.
He looks.
Of course he looked.
Manepear steped inside, brushing his sleeve like he just came from somewhere quieter, calmer—like this isn’t his scene, but he showed up anyway.
Flame notices him almost immediately.
“—yo, you actually came?” Flame’s voice cuts through everything as he walks over, grinning. “Thought you’d ditch.”
Manepear huffs something close to a laugh and a huff. “bro you texted me five times.”
“Yeah and it worked didn't it” Flame says, clapping him on the shoulder before getting pulled away again by someone else.
Manepear shakes his head, glancing around—
—and then he sees him.
Wemmbu looks away too late.
There’s that split second where neither of them moves.
Then Manepear starts walking over.
Wemmbu mutters something under his breath.
“Great.”
He doesn’t leave.
He probably should.
He really should.
By the time Manepear reaches him, Wemmbu’s already bracing for it.
“Hey,” Manepear says.
Just that.
Like they ran into each other after class.
Like it hasn’t been months of him not being at his side.
Wemmbu lets a frown and something not quite a laugh. “Hey.”
Awkward.
God it’s awkward.
That almost makes it worse.
Manepear leans a little against the counter, not too close, not far either. “Didn’t know you and Flame knew each other.”
“Same class,” Wemmbu shrugs. “He’s loud pretty hard to miss.”
“Yeah,” Manepear smiles faintly. “That tracks.”
A pause.
They both feel it.
All the stuff sitting underneath that neither of them is touching yet.
Wemmbu glances down at his cup, then back up. “Sooo you’re back?”
“Just visiting,” Manepear says. “Graduation didn’t kill me, apparently.”
“Shame.”
It slipped out.
Sharply.
Manepear blinks, then lets out a quiet laugh. “Wow okayy that’s how we’re doing this?”
Wemmbu shrugs, but there’s tension into it. “How else would we do this?”
Another pause.
This one heavier.
Manepear studies him for a second, softer than before. “You look… different.”
Wemmbu lets out a snarl. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you say something vague like it means more than it does.”
Manepear exhales, glancing away for a second. “I just meant you seem… better.”
“Better than what?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
And that’s answer enough.
Wemmbu lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Righttt how could i forget compared to when I was a ‘lost cause,’ right?”
There it is.
Manepear’s expression shifts just a little. Not guilt exactly, but something that isn’t neutral anymore.
“…You saw that,” he says.
Wemmbu stares at him. “Yeah. I saw that. Kinda hard to miss.”
“I didn’t...” Manepear stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t meant to—”
“Meant to what?” Wemmbu cuts in, voice still quiet but sharper now. “Be about me? It literally was about me.”
“..I didnt mean it”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Manepear winces slightly. “Yeah okay fair.”
For a second, neither of them speaks.
The music swelled someone shouted from across the room a glass clinks against something.
Everything feels way too normal for this conversation.
“You could’ve just talked to me,” Wemmbu says after a moment not loud not dramatic just… there. “You know that, right?”
Manepear looks at him, properly this time.
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
A beat.
Manepear exhales slowly. “Because I thought it’d be easier.”
Wemmbu lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “For who?”
“For both of us.”
“Yeah,” Wemmbu says, nodding like that makes sense. “Yeah, no, that worked out great.”
“You didn’t even break up with me,” Wemmbu adds, glancing at him again. “Do you realize that? You just… got up and left.”
Manepear’s jaw tightens slightly. “I figured it was obvious.”
“Oh trust me it was very obvious but it isn’t the same as saying it.”
“I didn’t think you needed it spelled out.”
“Well I did,” Wemmbu says, throwing his hands up to the air “Call me crazy I guess.”
Silence.
Then Wemmbu lets out a slow breath, like something in him is getting pulled backward whether he wants it or not.
Because it wasn’t even a conversation.
That's the part that he hated the most.
The message came out of nowhere.
No buildup.
No argument.
Just a notification.
A name.
And—
You’re a lost cause.
That was it.
No “we should break up.”
No “this isn’t working.”
No explanation at all.
Just that.
And then—
Absolutely nothing.
No replies. No follow-up. No presence after that.
Manepear just… left.
Graduated.
Gone.
Like whatever they had didn’t even require ending.
Wemmbu blinks once like he’s forcing himself back into the present.
His voice is quieter now less sharp more tired.
“You didn’t even say it properly,” he adds. “You just decided I wasn’t worth continuing with.”
Manepear doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t defend it.
That silence is what makes it real.
Wemmbu lets out a slow breath through his nose.
“I waited,” he says after a moment, quieter now. Not as sharp—but heavier. “For something else. Anything else.”
A beat.
Then, almost bitterly.
“But I guess that was it for you.”
Manepear finally speaks, softer than before.
“I thought I was being clear.”
Wemmbu lets out a small laugh—no humor in it.
“duh” he says. “You were.”
And this time, neither of them adds anything to fix it.
Wemmbu lets out a slow breath, shaking his head. Before continuing on “You don’t just get to disappear and then show up again like this is normal.”
“I’m not acting like it’s normal.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Manepear hesitates.
“…I don’t know,” he admits.
That throws Wemmbu off more than anything else.
He frowns brows creasing. “You don’t know?”
Manepear huffs a quiet laugh. “No. I didn’t exactly plan this conversation.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You didn’t plan a lot of things.”
That lands.
Manepear looks away again, jaw set.
Then.
Someone brushes past Wemmbu’s shoulder.
“Hey, Flame’s looking for you,” they say, glancing between them slightly worried. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Wemmbu says quickly. “I’ll come in a bit.”
They nod and leave but not without one last worried curious look.
Manepear watched them go.
His eyes linger a second longer than necessary.
Then—
“You don’t stand like that anymore.”
Wemmbu frowns. “What?”
“Back then,” Manepear says, gesturing vaguely, “you used to..” he pauses, like he’s trying to remember it exactly, “—hover. Like you were waiting for something.”
Wemmbu stares at him.
“…Are you serious right now?”
Manepear shrugs slightly. “I’m just noticing.”
“Yeah, no, I got that,” Wemmbu says, voice tightening. “I just didn’t realize you were still—what, analyzing me? Taking notes?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It kind of is.”
A pause.
Manepear doesn’t deny it this time. That somehow makes it worse.
Wemmbu lets out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Goddd you haven’t changed at all.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“No?” Wemmbu looks at him, something flashing in his expression now—frustration, anger, something heavier under it. “Because from where I’m standing this feels exactly the same.”
Manepear’s gaze sharpens slightly. “Explain.”
“No,” Wemmbu cuts in immediately. “No, I’m not doing that again.”
“Doing what?”
“Helping you understand things you should already get.”
Manepear goes quiet.
Wemmbu shakes his head, pushing off the counter just to have something to do, pacing a step before stopping again.
“You walk in here,” he says, voice low but no longer controlled in the same careful way, “after months!" Wemmbus hands tightens just enough to make his hands bleed "months of nothing, and the first thing you do is start pointing out what’s different about me like I’m some before-and-after comparison!?”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Wemmbu snapped.
A couple of people nearby glance over, then quickly look away.
Neither of them bothered to look over.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Wemmbu continues. “You don’t ask how I am you don’t say sorry you don’t even—” he cuts himself off, laughing under his breath. “No, actually, that tracks that’s very on brand for you.”
Manepear’s jaw tightens. “I said you looked better.”
“Yeah,” Wemmbu says, pointing at him slightly. “You said. You didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I did.”
“Then say it properly.”
Silence.
Manepear hesitates.
Just for a second.
And that’s all Wemmbu needs.
“Right,” he says, nodding to himself. “That’s what I thought.”
Another pause—but it’s not the same anymore. It’s sharper now. Uneven.
Manepear exhales slowly. “You’re angry.”
Wemmbu lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Oh, wow. Really? What gave it away?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be.”
“No, you just sound like you’re observing it,” Wemmbu shoots back. “Like it’s interesting.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither was what you did.”
That one lands clean.
Manepear doesn’t have an immediate response this time.
Wemmbu steps closer—not aggressively, but there’s nothing hesitant about it either.
“You don’t get to come back and act like this is just… a conversation we paused,” he says, quieter now but somehow more intense. “You don’t get to treat it like we just picked up where we left off.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Wemmbu cuts in. “You’re acting like there’s still something here you can just step back into whenever you feel like it.”
Manepear looks at him, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Is there not?”
That—
That hits something raw.
Wemmbu actually goes still for a second.
Then he lets out a laugh—low, disbelieving, a little breathless.
“Wow,” he says softly. “You actually think that?”
“I’m asking.”
“No,” Wemmbu shakes his head irritated, stepping back now like he needs the distance. “No, you’re not askingb you’re fucking assuming.”
“I’m not assuming anything.”
“You just did,” Wemmbu says. “You walked in here and started acting like you still… mattered in that way.”
Manepear’s expression tightens slightly. “I did matter.”
“Past tense,” Wemmbu snaps immediately.
Silence.
That one lingers.
“I waited,” Wemmbu says after a second, quieter now but not softer. “You know that, right?”
Manepear doesn’t interrupt.
“I waited,” he repeats, eyes fixed on him now. “For a reply for a follow-up for anything that wasn’t just—” he gestures vaguely, frustrated, “—that stupid message.”
“I told you—”
“No,” Wemmbu cuts in sharply. “You didn’t tell me anything. You dropped a one liner and disappeared who are you fucking Elsa?”
Mane doesn't respond so Wemmbu continues.
“You don’t get to rewrite that now.”
Manepear exhales, slower this time. “I’m not trying to rewrite it.”
“Then what are you trying to do?” Wemmbu demands. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just checking if I’m still what—available? Still stuck where you left me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Wemmbu groans hands to his face.
This one action felt heavier than all the others.
Manepear looks at him like he wants to argue.
Doesn’t.
Wemmbu laughs again, softer now but still sharp around the edges. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not.”
Manepear’s gaze flickers.
Just slightly.
“I didn’t replace you,” Wemmbu adds, more controlled now, but the anger’s still there, sitting just under the surface. “I just stopped acting like you were coming back.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Yeah,” Wemmbu says. “I know.”
That part doesn’t hurt anymore.
Or at least—he won’t let it show if it does.
Manepear studies him for a long moment.
“I meant it,” he says finally. “When I said you seem better.”
Wemmbu holds his gaze.
Searches his face like he’s trying to decide if it’s worth anything.
“…You don’t get to say that now,” he replies.
“I know,” Manepear says.
And for once—
he actually sounds like he means it.
Wemmbu exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.
Not gone.
Just… settled.
“I should go find Flame,” he says after a moment. “Before he drags me out there himself.”
Manepear huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. He would.”
A small pause.
Wemmbu shifts his weight, glancing past him toward the crowd—
then back.
“Next time,” he says, more tired than angry now, “if you’re gonna end something…”
He trails off, then finishes it anyway.
“…just say it.”
Manepear nods.
Slower this time.
“Okay.”
Wemmbu studies him for a second longer—
like he’s checking if that’s real.
Then he nods once.
And walks away.
This time, there’s no hesitation in it.
No looking back.
Just distance—
finally feeling like something he choose.