Work Text:
Flame was not having a good day.
It wasn’t that his day had been particularly bad, per se, but ending it with being shoved into a janitor’s closet with Wemmbu hadn’t exactly been on his agenda.
To make matters worse, the closet was tiny. So tiny, in fact, that Flame was practically bending over just to avoid smacking his head on the low shelf above them. The air was stale, the faint scent of cleaning supplies doing little to cover the mustiness of the cramped space.
“Bro, I’m actually innocent this time,” Wemmbu mumbled, his voice slightly muffled since his face was practically buried in Flame’s shoulder. “I didn’t even do anything.”
“Yeah, okay,” Flame muttered, shifting awkwardly as Wemmbu practically collapsed against him. “You’re literally the worst liar ever bro.”
The space was too small. Too close. Flame’s back was pressed against the door, and Wemmbu… well, Wemmbu was pressed up against him, all warmth and soft skin.
Flame could feel every subtle shift Wemmbu made as he tried to get more comfortable. And as much as Flame wanted to play it off as just another inconvenience, he couldn’t ignore how warm Wemmbu’s breath felt against his neck.
The heat between them was almost suffocating. The only cool relief came from the cold metal shelf digging into Flame’s back, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make him forget how close Wemmbu was. How every tiny movement seemed to bring them even closer. His chest brushed against Flame’s, his breath fanning over the side of Flame’s neck in short bursts.
“I wasn’t!” Wemmbu protested, his head bumping slightly against Flame’s chin as he tried to adjust again, which only made their situation worse. “Bro, I literally just went to get my backpack, and then those idiots shoved us in here.”
Flame let out a sigh, feeling Wemmbu’s hair brush against his chin, the strands soft, almost too soft. “Uh-huh, sure,” he muttered, his tone falling flat, though his mind was racing in the silence that followed.
The longer they stayed stuck like this, the more Flame found himself noticing things he probably shouldn’t have.Like how soft Wemmbu’s skin felt beneath his hand where it had awkwardly landed on his side, or the faint scent of lilac clinging to his hoodie. It was distracting, pulling at his focus in a way that made him a little uneasy.
And Wemmbu, either completely oblivious or just choosing to be annoying on purpose, shifted again before letting out a quiet laugh. “I mean, this could be way worse, y’know?” he said lightly, like being trapped in a cramped storage closet together was somehow no big deal.
Flame could only manage a tight grunt in response. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, a discomfort that wasn’t entirely due to the cramped space.
This close proximity was doing things to his head, making him hyperaware of every small detail. The way Wemmbu’s body pressed into his, the rise and fall of his chest against Flame’s, and the way their legs were tangled together, leaving barely any space for Flame to move.
As he inadvertently wrapped his arm around Wemmbu’s waist to give them both a bit more room, he noticed how small and slender Wemmbu’s waist felt beneath his hand, how perfectly it fit within his grip.
The realization sent a strange jolt through him—Wemmbu was smaller than him in a way that was both surprising and oddly compelling. Flame couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at how well they seemed to fit together in that tight space, their bodies aligned in an unexpected way that left him momentarily breathless.
Wemmbu shifted again, trying to get comfortable in the cramped space, and Flame immediately regretted how aware he was of it. The movement was small, but it somehow pushed them even closer together. Their knees bumped, denim brushing against denim, and Flame had to look away before Wemmbu noticed the way he’d suddenly gone stiff.
Wemmbu seemed to notice something because he stilled for a moment, his head tilting up slightly as if he could feel the tension too. “You good?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.
Flame swallowed, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Wemmbu was practically pressed against every inch of him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice sounded tight, strained even.
Wemmbu snorted softly, clearly catching onto something. “Bro, why are you acting so weird right now?” he teased, his voice quieter than before.
Flame rolled his eyes, though his heart was racing. “No shit. We’re locked in a closet bro.”
“Fair enough.” Wemmbu said with a quiet laugh, still sounding way too amused by all of this. Then, after another failed attempt to get comfortable, he gave up completely and let his head rest against Flame’s shoulder with an exaggerated sigh.
Flame could feel the warmth of Wemmbu’s breath through his shirt, and he froze, his mind scrambling for literally anything else to focus on. “Bro, can you sit still for like two seconds?” Flame muttered under his breath.
Wemmbu laughed quietly at that, the sound muffled by Flame’s shoulder. “Dude, you’re acting like I’m torturing you or something,” he said, still way too entertained by the situation. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”
Flame didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could without his voice betraying him.
For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with something Flame didn’t want to name. Wemmbu shifted again, and this time Flame couldn’t help but notice how small Wemmbu’s hands were compared to his own.
They were noticeably smaller than his own, and Flame felt an unexpected rush of warmth at how easily Wemmbu’s hands fit against his. The closeness, the contrast between them, made something in his chest shift in a way he wasn’t ready to think about.
Just then, the door creaked open.
Both of them froze, squinting as the harsh fluorescent lights from the hallway flooded into the tiny room. Flame blinked against the sudden brightness, feeling an odd mix of relief and disappointment as the tension between them dissipated.
Lomedy froze in the doorway, eyes widening immediately. “OH, woah, my bad! I did not need to see all that,” he blurted, nearly dropping the books in his hands as he backed up.
Flame quickly stepped out of the closet, the cool air hitting his skin like a shock. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the lingering warmth from being so close to Wemmbu.
“It’s fine,” Flame said, his voice a little rougher than usual as he tried to steady himself.
Wemmbu slipped out of the closet behind him, looking slightly flustered but managing to laugh it off as he brushed his clothes down. “Well, that was fun,” he joked, though his eyes flicked to Flame briefly, something unreadable in them.
Lomedy nodded quickly, though the second he passed Flame, he leaned in just enough to mutter, “Nah, you are SO telling me what that was later,” before hurrying off down the hallway.
The awkwardness lingered between Flame and Wemmbu like a fog, thick and heavy, but neither of them moved to address it.
“Uh… we should probably get outta here before they start assuming weird stuff,” Wemmbu said after a moment, scratching the back of his head with an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, before Lomedy starts being annoying about it,” Flame muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets even though his heartbeat still refused to calm down.
They started walking in opposite directions, the tension still hanging heavily between them.
Just as Flame turned the corner, something made him glance back over his shoulder.
Wemmbu had stopped too.
For a second, neither of them moved. Purple eyes met Flame’s mismatched red and amber gaze across the hallway, the dim light catching strangely against them both. Wemmbu’s eyes always looked too bright somehow, vivid even in the dark, and Flame suddenly became painfully aware of how close he’d been earlier, close enough to see every tiny shift in his expression.
There was no teasing grin this time, no smug comment waiting to leave Wemmbu’s mouth. Just something quieter, softer, lingering between them long enough to make Flame’s chest tighten before they both looked away.
Wemmbu gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning away, disappearing down the hall.
Flame stayed there for a second longer than he should’ve, still way too aware of Wemmbu’s warmth, the feeling of him pressed close in the cramped closet. It stuck in his head in an annoyingly persistent way, lingering no matter how hard he tried to brush it off.
Clicking his tongue under his breath, Flame shoved the thoughts aside and headed back toward his friends, pretending his heartbeat had finally gone back to normal.