Archive of Our Own

Spoke is not a bad person. 

Yes, he’s done some bad things. 

Yes, he’s taken things too far on multiple occasions.  

But, who hasn’t? 

As Spoke approached the front door of his dormitory at 2:40 am, he paused before turning the knob. Like a sun unsure whether to rise or set, he stood his ground on the horizon. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home. In fact, he wanted to be home more than anything else in the world right now. But, this was not his home. It was his house.  

He stood infront of the door as if it were a mirror. Beyond it lies the reflection of what he could be and it front of it stood who he truly was.  

Spoke thought about all the things that Jamato had just told him. 

‘Selfish.’ 

‘Immoral.’ 

‘Manipulative.’ 

‘Hopeless.’ 

‘A bad friend.’ 

He felt like a stranger to his own house. And with the way Mapicc had yelled at him, he was a stranger to his own home. 

Spoke took a deep, wavering breath and opened the door. 

He walked quietly into the dark house. There wasn’t a single light on, so he could assume that his roomates were all asleep. Spoke usually got home around this time and he had never ran into any of them in the past. He knew both Flame and Parrot went to bed early, but he wasn’t sure about Wemmbu. 

Well, not until he heard his voice. 

“Yo, hello?” Wemmbu called out from the kitchen, clearly unsure who he was talking to. 

Spoke froze. 

‘Why is he awake?’ Why did it have to be today of all days that there was someone else wandering around at almost 3 am on a school night. He knew damn well Wemmbu also had classes tomorrow so what could he possibly be doing? 

Maybe he was studying. The guy always studied extra hard on tests because he wanted to get better grades than Flame, who still always managed to beat him. Spoke found their competitiveness funny, and it made the two of them really easy to mess with. 

On a normal day, he’d probably mess with Wemmbu right now. Whether he’d pretend that he saw Flame put his toothbrush in the toilet or draw stupid faces onto his hammer collection, he would normally have no problem crafting a lie for his own amusement. But, oddly enough, Spoke didn’t feel like making another person upset with him despite normally not caring. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone. 

“Hello~~” Wemmbu sang out, walking out of the kitchen, “I heard y-“ He paused in the doorway. “Spoke?”  

Wemmbu’s brows furrowed in confusion, but Spoke remained frozen at the front door. He didn’t look up to face his purple haired roommate, eyes staying focussed on the ground in front of him.  

Spoke liked looking at the ground. He could trust it to always be beneath him. He trusted it to always keep him on earth. To keep him a part of the same world as everyone else even when he felt distant. The floor was always there and would always be there. It didn’t hate him. 

“What are you doing awake?” The tone in Wemmbu’s voice made it seem like he was nonchalant, but Spoke could tell he was being careful with his question. Why was he being careful? Spoke didn’t know. He probably just wanted answers. 

Spoke opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue before they could even form in his mind. It wasn’t often that he was left speechless, but what was he supposed to say? 

‘Hey Wemmbu, I’ve just been out getting mentally destroyed by those closest to me because I secretly have been meeting up with an old friend every night at 1 am so that he can tutor me in these stupid courses because I have been failing and I don’t understand shit and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong and I don’t like it and I don’t like him and I don’t want to do this anymore and I just want to have fun and hang out with Mapicc but Mapicc hates me now too and it’s all that old friend’s fault but it’s also probably my fault and I hate myself for it.’ 

Yeah. He can’t really say that.  

So he didn’t say anything. 

And yet Wemmbu didn’t leave. 

He leaned against the kitchen door frame, crossing his arms, “Well?” He was waiting for a response. A response that Spoke didn’t have for him. 

“I was out on a walk.” Spoke didn’t sound nearly as confident as he wanted to. He probably didn’t look confident either with the way he refused to look up, but he couldn’t force himself to.  

“A walk.” Wemmbu repeated, deadpanned and unconvinced, “You were out on a random walk at almost 3 am?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Spoke was at a loss for words for the second time in one conversation. Why the hell was this Wemmbu guy so nosey?  

Although they were roommates, the two of them didn’t actually hang out as much as people might think. Anytime all four of his roommates got together, it was mainly Spoke that initiated it. And it always took a ridiculous amount of convincing and lies in order to get them to free their schedules for him. 

They’re relatively close, but Spoke wouldn’t consider Wemmbu to be one of his closest friends. He was more like an acquaintance. That’s not to say he didn’t like Wemmbu. Wemmbu probably doesn’t like him. Most people don’t. But, he actually thinks Wemmbu is a fun person to hang out with. He’s funny and a lot more laid back than his other two roommates, Parrot and Flame. He’s more willing to laugh at the stupid pranks that Spoke does rather than be disappointed in him like Parrot or mad at him like Flame. It’s nice to have someone, other than Mapicc, to laugh with. 

Wemmbu snickered at the silence, “Don’t tell me we’re going to get a call saying the chem labs caught fire. Y’know, Parrot’s probably going to be pissed if you get suspended again and he has to help you write an appeal for it.” 

Wemmbu wasn’t wrong. With the amount of trouble Spoke always got himself into, he’s written far more university suspension appeals than the average student. Especially since he’s only a first year. He typically got Parrot to help him write them, but what Parrot didn’t know was that Spoke would alter the appeal with lies to manipulate it more in his favour after Parrot left. Spoke was really good at lying. But, this usually left other people taking the blame or the school believing whatever he did was truly an “honest mistake.” Unfortunately, one can only have so many “honest mistakes” until everyone is done with his shit and they finally leave him. Like Jamato. And Mapicc. 

Spoke couldn’t just stay quiet awkwardly standing at the door. If he did, Wemmbu would get suspicious.  

So, he forced out a laugh, “No! No! Not this time! I just couldn’t sleep and went for some fresh air. I haven’t even been awake for long enough to do anything stupid, relaaaaxxx.” He lied like it was the easiest thing in the world. It wasn’t. 

“D’alright bro.” 

Did he believe him? Should Spoke look up and actually face him? It probably looks so weird from Wemmbu’s perspective. Talking to someone who won’t even look you in the eyes.  

The problem was Spoke’s eyes were still red. ‘Not from crying.’ He told himself. ‘From exhaustion.’ Spoke was good at lying, sure, but he didn’t even believe himself. 

Suddenly, Spoke heard Wemmbu begin to move. ‘He finally got bored and is leaving.’ This was good. Spoke wanted him to leave. He wanted to be alone. He did.  

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Yo.” 

Oh. He’s still here. He didn’t leave. 

“Where’s your necklace?” Wemmbu asked. 

“…” 

Right. His necklace. Spoke normally had a ruby necklace that he had never been seen without ever since he got it. The same necklace that had been a gift from Jamato two years ago. Back when he and Jamato were best friends, inseparable even. And the same necklace that Mapicc had destroyed not even thirty minutes ago. 

“I lost it.” 

Wemmbu squinted, “You lost it?” 

Spoke nodded. In the best case scenario, Wemmbu believes Spoke and doesn’t think Spoke cares and never finds out Spoke is upset right now so he goes to bed.  

However, Spoke’s not stupid.  

He knows Wemmbu is not stupid.  

So, the most realistic best case scenario is that Wemmbu believes Spoke and thinks that Spoke is only upset because he lost his necklace. 

“Yeah, okay. What actually happened?” 

Of course. The universe hates Spoke so why would it give him any best case scenario. 

Spoke felt ill. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home even if home hated him right now. 

Wemmbu was being annoying, and it was starting to feel overwhelming. The ground beneath Spoke began to look blurry. The ground was one of the only things he could trust and he couldn’t see it any more. 

Spoke shrugged his shoulders, “I dropped it somewhere. I don’t know.” The tone in his voice was failing to hide his annoyance now. He wanted to lay down and rot in his bed forever.  

Wemmbu began to speak again, “Spoke, bro, I’m not try-“ Before he could finish, Spoke decided that he didn’t want to hear it. 

If Wemmbu wasn’t going to leave him alone and mind his own business, then Spoke was going to do it for him. He ran off to his bedroom and closed the door more aggressively than intended.  

‘Perfect. Wemmbu is now mad at me too.’ 

That’s just what he needed. Just what he wanted. Just what he deserved. 

He sighed and flopped onto his bed. 

Somehow, the silence was worse than Wemmbu bombarding him with questions. 

He was now forced to listen to his thoughts. The same thoughts that continuously replayed everything that had happened. 

Spoke is not a bad person.  

He never tried to be bad. 

But, Jamato called him a bad person. 

Jamato called him a bad friend. 

Mapicc believed Jamato. 

And now Spoke was alone. 

Do good people end up alone? 

Spoke didn’t know. 

He buried his face in his pillow until, suddenly, he heard a knock on his door followed by the sound of it creaking open, only slightly. He felt his blood run cold.  

‘What the hell.’ 

“Hey, dude.” Wemmbu whispered. 

Wemmbu hadn’t just left him alone and gone to bed or back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen? He just had to come to Spoke’s room. If only Spoke hadn't removed the lock from his door to use for a prank on the first day he got here. Now, he really did have to face the consequences of his own actions. 

“go away...” He responded, covering himself in his blankets. “I’m going to sleep.” He tried to ignore the way his voice broke and made him sound small. Spoke didn’t like feeling small in any given situation. It’s part of the reason he found lying so easy. Lying was a way he could craft any situation to be his own, and therefore he would have the most control over it. 

Wemmbu scoffed, faking offence. Spoke then heard creaks approaching him. ‘No shot this guy is barging into my room right now-‘ 

Spoke felt a sweater thrown over his head. He looked up, anger finally escaping him, “What the fuck is your problem?” His voice sounded raspy and he hated it. He hated most things about himself right now. 

Wemmbu ignored the question, getting a good look at the younger boy’s face. Spoke had looked him in the eyes for the first time, and he immediately regretted it.  

Wemmbu didn’t look upset at him, but Spoke couldn’t read the expression on his face at all. All he knew was that it looked like Wemmbu was analyzing him. He felt like Wemmbu was looking at him under a microscope. Every flaw, every detail, every lie on full display. 

But, Wemmbu didn’t do anything. Confusingly enough, he began to leave, but paused in the doorway, “If you’re not in the car in five, I’m leaving your ass.” 

He shut the door behind him and Spoke was alone again. 

‘What the fuck.’ 

What did Wemmbu mean? Was he going to wait for him in his car? 

Why? 

Spoke sat up and looked at the sweater Wemmbu had thrown at him. 

It was his purple zip up that had his name sewn onto the back along with “Eggchan’s best friEND” underneath in smaller letters. It was a classic in the Wemmbu wardrobe. A gift from his best friend, Egg, for his birthday last year.  

Spoke didn’t know all the lore behind it. Like why Wemmbu needed to have a sweater that said something silly like that or why the letters “E, N, D” were randomly capitalized in “friend,” but he assumed these were inside jokes that he didn’t have to understand. 

Either way, it was abnormal for it to be in the hands of someone other than Wemmbu. 

Still, Spoke didn’t put it on right away. He was conflicted. He didn’t want to spend anymore time with Wemmbu if all Wemmbu wanted was answers, but he also didn’t want to be alone no matter how much he tried to convince himself he did. 

So, Spoke sat there. Staring at the sweater in his hands. 

“…” 

* * *

When Spoke left the dormitory, he wasn’t expecting to find Wemmbu’s car still in the parking lot. Wemmbu had said he’d leave without him if he took longer than 5 minutes, and Spoke had taken twice that amount of time.

Yet there he was. 

Waiting.  

Wemmbu didn’t leave. 

There was no way of him knowing if Spoke was even coming or not.  

Spoke didn’t even want to go. But, his curiosity got the best of him. 

Spoke approached the purple car door and knocked on the passenger seat window.  

The car unlocked, and Spoke quietly sat down. 

“One second bro, I got to go. Call you back later.” Wemmbu hung up with whoever he was talking to on the phone.  

‘Guess everyone’s awake right now despite it being 3 am with classes running tomorrow.’ 

Now, Spoke had his full attention, causing him to sink a little further into the sweater Wemmbu lent him. It was comfortable, a little too big, but comfortable. 

Spoke faced away from him, realizing that his eyes and nose were probably still red. Yet, Wemmbu didn’t mention him crying. He didn’t even say anything, and Spoke wasn’t looking at him anymore so he couldn’t tell what kind of face he was making. Instead, Wemmbu just began driving, never elaborating where they were going. 

It was quiet. Neither of them talking, and Spoke’s eyes remained glued to the window. He found himself struggling to keep his eyes open as he watched the empty streets and sidewalks. Guess not many other people around campus were out and about right now. 

Spoke wondered if Mapicc was still awake. Would he still be out or had he gone home already?  

Maybe Wemmbu would pass by Mapicc’s car. Then Spoke could pull down his window and talk to him. Mapicc would make a stupid joke and Spoke would be the only one to find it funny. They’d then pick a place to meet up and Wemmbu and Mapicc would race each other there. Mapicc would win, of course. Not because Spoke was biased. Absolutely not. But because Mapicc was obviously a faster driver. Mhm. No bias.  

When they got out of their cars they’d all talk. Maybe Wemmbu would leave early, but it wouldn’t matter. Because Mapicc would still be there. Mapicc would still be with Spoke.  

And… maybe, just maybe, Spoke could apologize to him. 

‘…’  

Spoke sniffled. ‘Shit.’ 

That was just more proof to Wemmbu that he was crying. It was embarrassing. 

He didn’t mean to sniffle aloud but his stupid brain got carried away with making up fake scenarios.  

He turned to Wemmbu, anxiously. But, the older boy had his eyes focussed on the road.  

Spoke felt relieved and relaxed a little. He felt like his seat had gotten a lot more comfortable. His eyelids began to feel as though they had weights on them. Wemmbu wasn’t playing music or making conversation or anything. But, the silence was nice. 

* * * 

“Spoky Spoke Spoke.” A hand touched his arm. 

Spoke’s eyes widened and he flinched forward at the sudden contact, almost hitting his head if his seatbelt hadn’t caught him. 

Wemmbu giggled, “Sorry bro, I forgot you were sleeping.” He ruffled Spoke’s hair, “Wakee uppp~~” 

Spoke scrunched his face at the action, but made no real effort to tell Wemmbu to stop. 

He stretched his arms out and rubbed his eyes, “Where are we?” He asked, not recognizing the building they were parked in front of. 

Spoke doesn’t know when he fell asleep or why Wemmbu didn’t wake him up. Did he really just drive in silence the entire time to not wake him up? Surely not. Wemmbu wasn’t the kind of person to do that. He probably just didn’t want to listen to music right now since it was so late.  

Yeah. That made sense. 

“Ice cream.” Was all Wemmbu said before leaving the car. 

‘Wow. Thanks. That was so helpful.’ 

Spoke left the car too and read the sign on top of the small shop.  

‘Night’s End.’ It read. 

Yeah, he’s never heard of this place before.  

As he was about to question why an ice cream place was still open at such a ridiculous hour, he noticed Wemmbu open the door for him. But what really caught his attention was the giant ‘CLOSED’ sign on the glass. 

“Uh.. I don’t think we can go in.”  

Spoke stopped, but Wemmbu protested, “Nah, it’s fine.” 

Wemmbu took his hand and led the way, bringing the two of them inside the empty, CLOSED, establishment. 

“Yo, hello?”  

‘Is he silly? Who is he talking to?’ Nobody was there. In fact, Spoke was positive that he and Wemmbu weren’t supposed to be there. 

“You’re chill bro,” Wemmbu assured him, looking directly at him again.  

Breaking into an ice cream parlor when it’s closed was definitely something Spoke would normally do. He didn’t care about breaking rules or anything, so Wemmbu had no reason to think Spoke was nervous. Was Spoke making his nerves that obvious? That wasn’t like him at all. This day was really messing with his head. He was usually better at hiding things. 

Then, the door behind the counter opened and an employee walked out. He had messy black hair and looked fairly tired. 

“Yo, Minute!” Wemmbu walked up to the counter excitedly guiding Spoke to the stools, "You look tired as shit!” 

The employee, Minute, rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh, “Ah, Wemmbu. The reason why I stay here so late.” He smiled with such fondness that even if what he said was sarcastic, Spoke couldn’t tell. “I see Egg isn’t with you today. It’s odd for you to come here without him.” 

“Yeah, Egg is lowkey in super hell studying for midterms.” Wemmbu let go of Spoke’s hand and took a seat in front of Minute. 

Spoke stood behind him awkwardly. He was by no means shy, but this would probably be the worst first introduction he’d ever have (exaggeration- he’s definitely had worse).  

Spoke looked like a mess. He was in Wemmbu’s sweater, with black sweatpants on, unbrushed hair, and a nose and eyes that were tinted red from crying. This was embarrassing. He looked embarrassing. Why Wemmbu took him anywhere was beyond him. Normally, Spoke wouldn’t give too shits, but nothing felt normal right now for Spoke. He wished he could stop existing, even if just for a moment. 

“And this is..?” Minute pointed at Spoke. 

“…” Spoke remained quiet, shifting awkwardly. 

Wemmbu untucked the stool next to him, signalling for him to sit down. Reluctantly, Spoke did so. He didn’t really have any other choice unless he left, which he’d have no way of going back to the dorm since Wemmbu drove them here. 

Wemmbu laughed, “He’s my little brother, Spoke. I’ve probably mentioned him to you before.” 

‘Huh.’ 

What. 

‘????’ 

Did Spoke hear him correctly? Was he hallucinating from exhaustion? Or did Wemmbu really introduce him as his little brother? 

Spoke and Wemmbu were not related by any means. Spoke was an only child and he was pretty positive that Wemmbu was too. So..? 

“Oh. Yeah, I remember.” Minute responded, unphased, “I’m Minute Tech, nice to meet you.” He smiled. 

“nice to meet you too.” Spoke mumbled. He hated mumbling. It made him come across as miserable, which he was right now, but he didn’t like other people being aware of that. Especially not this new guy.  

Meeting new people was like meeting new targets. Spoke didn’t know anything about Minute, but he’d probably be funny to prank. Mapicc would probably help him think of something like replacing the vanilla ice cream with shaving cream and the two of them would carry out the plan the next time they came here. 

But, again, Mapicc wasn’t here. It was just Spoke. And Spoke just fumbled his introduction, so Minute probably thought Spoke was some buzz kill that Wemmbu dragged here. Minute would never trust Spoke and Spoke would never be able to prank him with a Mapicc that hated him. 

“I have a few things I need to clean in the back, but Wemmbu, feel free to take whatever the two of you want. Just don’t mess with anything.” Minute said before returning to the backroom. 

“Can’t make any promises!” Wemmbu yelled out, then he turned to Spoke again, “What flavour do you want?” 

Spoke just looked at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“That’s alright.” Wemmbu stood up and walked behind the counter. He grabbed a spoon and stuck it into the salted caramel ice cream. Without getting a cup, he just ate his bite directly from the spoon. “Bro this one is actually so good.” He grabbed another spoon and got another spoonful, “You have to try it.” 

He handed the spoon to Spoke. ‘I guess Wemmbu is just allowed to do whatever he wants here…’ 

Spoke accepted and tried it. He wasn’t a big fan of caramel, but Wemmbu seemed pretty insistent he had some. Either way, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t like it. “It's okay. Would be better with whip cream…” 

Wemmbu immediately handed him the bottle of whip cream, but Spoke refused. 

“Y’know,” Wemmbu got a new spoon and scooped it into a different flavour, “You could just tell me if you don’t like it.” He handed him the new spoon. 

Great. Spoke was so out of it he couldn’t even do the one thing he was good at. He couldn’t even lie. 

The next flavour Wemmbu handed him was some weird pink and purple cotton candy one. Spoke didn’t like it, so Wemmbu gave him a different one. Spoke didn’t like it either. But, Wemmbu didn’t give up.  

He tried again.

Failed.

Tried again.

Failed.

But didn't give up. Wemmbu was determined to find a flavour of ice cream that Spoke would like. Spoke didn’t know why Wemmbu was so dead set on finding something for Spoke rather than himself.  

It was probably just because Wemmbu was always competitive. He wanted to “win.” Spoke didn't actually matter. That made more sense. 

But, even so, Spoke couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips. 

“Do you prefer more plain flavours? Do you want, like, chocolate or vanilla?” 

“Nah.” 

It’s true that the main problem with the flavours Wemmbu was offering him was that it was “too much.” Spoke had a much simpler taste, not really ever enjoying a huge mix of flavours and normally preferring things catered towards a blander pallet. But, he had to admit that watching Wemmbu run around behind the counter trying to find the perfect ice cream and having a zero percent chance at success was really funny. 

Wemmbu groaned, “Spoke. I’m literally going to invent a new flavour in a -“ he paused, “Wait that’s actually such a good idea.” 

Spoke laughed, “Dude, that is not a good idea!” 

The sound of laughter clearly surprised Wemmbu, his eyebrows raised for a moment, but the expression was quickly replaced with a playful one, “What why? I can make shit. They call me "The Director.” 

‘The Director’ was a title not owned by Wemmbu, but by a student named Wifies. Wifies was known to be one of  the smartest people at their University, and he was also one of Parrot’s best friends. He hung out at their dorm often, but he always did nerdy things with Parrot that Spoke wasn’t interested in. The only time he eavesdrops on the two is when they are working with dangerous chemicals because that’s cool. 

“You are not Wifies bro.” Spoke reminded him with a giggle. 

“I’m better.” 

He wasn’t. But, Spoke could appreciate a liar. 

“Yeah, okay.”  

Wemmbu gasped, noticing something. 

“What?” Spoke looked around, on the edge of his seat. He didn’t see anything to warrant Wemmbu’s reaction. 

“Spoke.” Wemmbu slammed his hands on the table. 

“What? What?” Spoke didn’t know if he was excited or nervous. 

Was Wemmbu mad at him? Did Wemmbu just remember the time Spoke drew a happy face on one of his favourite hammers, Gambit, and so he was going to scold him. He was probably going to remind Spoke of who he truly was. 

Spoke was selfish.  

Spoke was manipulative. 

Spoke was a bad friend. 

Not only to Jamato and Mapicc, but now he was just repeating the cycle with Wemmbu. 

What would Mapicc say if he saw that Spoke was incapable of changing? Was Mapicc just going to hate him forever?  

Wemmbu was reminded of what Jamato had already known: Spoke ruined everything he touch- 

“Do you like milkshakes?” Wemmbu interrupted Spoke’s spiralling thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“There’s a blender. I’m going to get milk from the fridge in the backroom, I’ll be right back!” 

What. 

‘What?’ 

Wemmbu did not suddenly remember all of Spoke’s wrong doings.  

He had just seen a blender and wanted to make milkshakes. 

He was still trying to make something Spoke would like… 

Even though Spoke gave him no reason to. 

Spoke looked towards the garbage that was full of an abnormal amount of small, test-tasting spoons. He snickered. 

Wemmbu was so weird. 

If he wanted something from Spoke he should just say so. Mapicc would never go all out like this to get answers out of him. But, then again, Mapicc never had to try really hard to get Spoke to talk. Whether what Spoke said were lies or the truth didn’t matter, because Mapicc listened. 

Mapicc is not here. 

“Are you thinking vanilla?” 

Wemmbu was back, milk carton in hand. He leaned against the counter, squinting his eyes at Spoke. Spoke’s eyes were glossy again. But, Wemmbu didn’t care, his eyes leaving Spoke’s as he spun around to face the blender. 

“Yea..yeah sure.” Spoke stuttered. Vanilla would have been his first choice for ice cream anyway. 

Wemmbu grabbed a tub of vanilla ice cream and placed some into the blender. He added the milk and turned it on. Once done, he poured some into two cups. 

He handed one to Spoke, “Let me know if you want any toppings, but I’m assuming you don’t.” 

Spoke nodded. Wemmbu was reading him like an open book. Spoke hated it. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. And as Wemmbu sat beside him, drink in hand, he sensed that no lie was going to work against him. 

Wemmbu took a sip, “Do you like it?” He asked Spoke, who hasn't tried it yet. 

“Yeah, it’s good.” 

Wemmbu frowned. 

Spoke disappointed him. 

“Wemmbu,” it was his turn to ask a question, “why are we here?” 

“To eat ice cream bro- well actually to drink milkshakes.” 

“Wemmbu.” Spoke looked him directly in the eyes. The way Wemmbu looked at him made his eyes tear up. He didn’t know why. It’s not like Wemmbu looked at him with pity, but he didn’t look upset. 

Still.  

Somehow. 

Wemmbu wasn’t upset. 

Spoke had tried to convince himself that he was. 

He tried really hard to believe that he was. 

Because it was easier for him to believe that Wemmbu was upset with him, than for him to believe that he cared. 

Spoke is not a bad person. 

But, Wemmbu didn’t have a reason to care. 

Spoke is not a bad person. 

But, he was a liar. 

He was a manipulator. 

He was a bad friend. 

So, what qualified him to be considered a good person? 

What qualified him to have someone care? 

“Spoke,” this time, Wemmbu looked away, “Night’s End is the only ice cream shop close to uni that stays open until 3 am. Did you even know about it?” 

Spoke shook his head. He’d really never heard of this place before Wemmbu brought him here.  

“Figured,” Wemmbu stated, “Nobody really talks about it,” He leaned closer and whispered, “I’m pretty sure it was built as a cover for a secret mafia organization.”

“What?” Spoke was dumbfounded. What could have possibly happened to make Wemmbu come to that conclusion?

Wemmbu laughed, “Well, I’m pretty sure Minute works for the mafia. No way a guy that looks like that is an ice cream shop employee. He’s definitely been in fights before. You can tell by his aura.”

Spoke furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“Do you believe me?”

“Believe what?”

Wemmbu smiled, “That Minute is a part of a secret invisible mafia.”

“I mean I don’t know, I just met him.”

That caused another light hearted laugh from the older boy, “See, Spoke. This is why I brought you here. You’re the only one who doesn’t immediately reject my suspicions.”

Spoke definitely rejected Wemmbu’s suspicions. But, he couldn’t stop the smile that formed at the sound of Wemmbu’s laugh.

His laugh sounds funny.

That’s all.

It wasn’t anything deeper than that.

It was obvious that Wemmbu brought up this weird “mafia theory” in order to avoid answering Spoke’s question. But, before Spoke could call him out, he spoke first.

“Egg is the one that showed me this place.” Wemmbu wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t upset, and he still smiled, but something weighed heavy on his shoulders.

“Last year, I got into a pretty ugly fight with Zam. It went too far and I ended up with a fractured leg.” Wemmbu admitted.

Right.

Spoke only heard stories of Wemmbu and Zam's friendship. They were supposedly close friends before Spoke knew either of them, but now it’s more accurate to describe them as rivals. They didn’t hate each other, but they had a history. Spoke didn’t know what exactly happened between them, having not been attending the school at the time, but Wemmbu never talked about Zam unless she was a part of the conversation.

“Having a fractured leg meant I couldn’t do shit. I was on the track team and wasn’t allowed to compete for the rest of the season. It really fucking sucked because Flame was able to train and surpass me. He won his races and I wasn’t even given a chance to beat him.”

Despite him seemingly recalling past struggles, a gentle smile graced his lips, “I felt really shitty, but one night, at 2 am, Egg dragged me out of the house and drove me here. He met Minute in one of his nerdy history classes, and Minute had told him about Night’s End. After that, Egg and I made coming here a part of our routine. Whether I have a shit day or not doesn’t matter, because I know me and Egg will come here by the end of it.”

Oh. 

This place was sentimental to Wemmbu.

This place was his and Egg’s special place.

And yet…

Wemmbu brought Spoke here. 

“I’m not oblivious, bro. I can tell you’re upset.” Wemmbu confirmed. Spoke shifted uncomfortably. “But, I didn’t bring you here because I wanted to force you to talk. In all honesty, I don’t care if you tell me what happened or not. I just like it here and thought you might too.” 

“…” Spoke, again, looked at the trash can. Each spoon was a different flavour. Each spoon was a different attempt. None of them were successful, but Wemmbu didn’t give up on him.  

Spoke is not a bad person. 

But, that didn’t mean Wemmbu had to do anything for him. Even if Spoke was sad. 

“I like it here.” Spoke smiled, rubbing a tear away from his eye. 

“I’m glad.” 

Spoke finally took a sip of the milkshake in front of him. Wemmbu stared at him, anticipating his reaction. 

“Meh. I think you lowkey added too much milk.” Spoke winced. “How do you expect to create a new ice cream flavour if you somehow mess up a milkshake?” 

In all honesty, it wasn’t actually that bad. 

“WOW. Okay. You didn’t have to crush my dreams like that.” 

The two of them continued to laugh and talk with each other for a while. It was probably 4 am, but neither of them cared. Spoke didn’t feel tired, and Wemmbu certainly didn’t either. So, they enjoyed each other's company. For a moment, it felt like nothing bad had happened earlier that night. 

But as the laughter quieted down, and the silence grew louder, Spoke felt his stomach turn.  

“…” He kept his eyes focussed on the now empty cup in front of him, “My necklace…” His hand reached up feeling for where the ruby gem should have been located on his neck. 

“Hm?” Wemmbu acknowledged Spoke, but did not pressure him to continue talking.

“I didn’t lose it. Mapicc broke it.”

Wemmbu’s mouth widened. His expression was laced with confusion and slight agitation at the implication. However, he remained patient.

“Sorry for lying to you earlier.” Spoke apologized.

He wasn’t good with apologies. They were awkward, and most of the time felt pretty useless. The idea that a simple “I’m sorry” could fix anything was a ridiculous concept.

Wemmbu was silent for a moment, surprised at the unexpected confession, “It’s okay.”

Perhaps apologies were not entirely useless.

When someone apologizes, it shows some form of regret that may have otherwise gone unnoticed.

The real problem with apologies was that it can’t always be met with an “It’s okay.” 

If Spoke said sorry to Mapicc, would Mapicc forgive him?

Even apologizing to Wemmbu, Spoke didn’t know if he deserved to be forgiven.

“Wemmbu, am I a bad person?” Spoke blurted out without really thinking, “I- Well, Jamato hates me and he- Mapicc- Mapicc hates me too. I think. Because- Jamato told Mapicc all this bad stuff about me- and it’s true- but, he- Mapicc doesn’t know that I didn’t lie to him- well sometimes I did, but it was for a good reason! no- sometimes it wasn’t. I just- I don’t even care about the necklace anymore- well, I do- probably. But, I don’t want Mapicc to hate me.”

Spoke couldn’t force the tears away. He doesn’t even know if anything he said made any sense. He sobbed into the sleeves of his sweater. Wemmbu’s sweater. He was a mess.

He heard Wemmbu get up from the stool he was sitting on.

‘Is he finally leaving?’ Spoke sniffled, his face heating up from embarrassment.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around him and his head was guided to Wemmbu’s chest.

“Hey, relax, Spoke,” Wemmbu ushered, “I’m right here.”

Wemmbu didn’t leave.

“There’s no way in hell Mapicc hates you.”

Spoke buried himself deeper into Wemmbu’s shirt, “You don’t understand, Wemmbu. I’m not- I lied. Mapicc is my best friend and I keep lying to him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”  

“Nothing's wrong with you, bro.” Wemmbu combed his hand in Spoke’s hair, “Listen, you’re right. I don’t exactly know what happened. But, you aren’t a bad person. Even if somehow, by a devil’s miracle, Mapicc hates you, I’m sure you can talk things out with him.”

Spoke is not a bad person.

Wemmbu said that Spoke is not a bad person.

Wemmbu said that Mapicc doesn’t hate him.

Spoke lamented, “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again?”

“Then me and Flame will beat the shit out of him.”

Spoke pushed away from Wemmbu’s embrace, “Please don’t.”

Wemmbu laughed and sat back down beside him, “I’m joking, I’m joking…ha ha.. unless…?”

“No.”

“Just joking!” Wemmbu placed a hand on his shoulder, “Listen, friends fight all the time. I always piss off Flame but he’s still willing to bring home free popcorn when I ask.”

It’s true. Wemmbu and Flame had such a confusing relationship. They fought more often than anyone else Spoke knew, but even after a fight, Flame, who has a job at a movie theatre (and a million other places), always brings back free popcorn for Wemmbu because he knows he likes to eat it at midnight. Maybe that’s why Wemmbu was in the kitchen when Spoke returned to the dorm.

Spoke laughed, “That’s cause it’s more annoying for him if he doesn’t get that for you.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that friends, even close friends, are bound to fight. It might suck, but Mapicc is basically family to you, right?”

“Yeah…”

Mapicc was more than family to Spoke.

Mapicc was home.

“Well, Flame, you, and Parrot are all like family to me.” Wemmbu admitted, “And I love fighting with you guys. Especially Flame. I’m going to actually kill that chungy.”

Spoke giggled, “You’re so stupid. My bets on Flame.”

“Actually fuck you.”

Suddenly, the back door behind the counter opened and Minute walked out carrying a bunch of empty cardboard boxes. He placed them down at his feet, “Yo.”

“Hey Minute!” Wemmbu stood up, “Before you kick us out, how much do I owe you for two milkshakes?” He pulled out his wallet.

Minute approached the counter. He looked at Wemmbu, then glanced at Spoke, “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“Holy aurafarm dude.” Wemmbu crouched down and whispered in Spoke’s ear, “We should go now. Minute is definitely going to add us to the mafia hit list.”

Spoke laughed and stood up, raising his hands in surrender, “We are super sorry Sir Minute Tech for disturbing the peace. We mean no harm.”

“What?” Minute was confused, which was really funny. He definitely didn’t know about Wemmbu’s mafia theory.

“Don’t worry about it, just don’t mention our names to Ashswag…” Wemmbu replied.

Spoke turned to him, “Ashswag?”

“Their leader.”

“Oh, of course.”

Guess there was more to this mafia theory than Spoke knew. He was sure Wemmbu would tell him eventually though.

Minute wasn’t phased by the two of them, “Please just drive safely...” He waved them off.

Wemmbu and Spoke left ‘Night’s End’ and returned to the car.

On the drive back to the dorms, Wemmbu wouldn’t shut up about his entire mafia theory to Spoke. He described it in so much detail that Spoke was beginning to think that he might be serious about the whole thing. He even said that Egg was a member and went as far as to say that Flame might be one of their elite fighters. Whatever that meant.

The two of them returned back to their dorm room. It was still dark in the house, and Flame and Parrot were both still sleeping. It was around 4:30 in the morning.

“Ughhh, I’m completely pooped.” Wemmbu yawned, “I hate driving late bro, if you weren’t there I genuinely would’ve fallen asleep.”

“I thought going out late was a routine for you,” Spoke questioned.

“Yeah, but usually Egg drives.”

The mention of Egg reminded Spoke that he was still wearing Wemmbu’s sweater.

He started to take it off, but Wemmbu stopped him, “Nah, you can sleep with it. Just remember to give it back in the morning.”

Wemmbu was willing to let Spoke continue to wear it.

He was so weird.

Spoke thought back to everything Wemmbu did for him.

From giving him this sweater, to giving him a million ice cream flavours, Spoke’s favourite thing about tonight was just talking to the guy.

Wemmbu never pushed Spoke for answers. He never felt embarrassed being seen with him. And, he never left him alone.

Wemmbu cared, and Spoke couldn’t deny that anymore.

He turned to the older boy and hugged him, “Thank you.” 

Wemmbu smiled and returned the gesture, ruffling Spoke’s hair.

After Spoke let go and began heading towards his bedroom, Wemmbu called out to him.

“Yo, you should invite Mapicc the next time we go.”

Mapicc.

Yes.

When Spoke apologizes to a Mapicc that probably doesn’t hate him, he can bring Mapicc to Night’s End with Wemmbu and Eggchan. Maybe they could even invite Flame or Parrot. The six of them could begin theorizing on how to destroy the invisible mafia.

Spoke smiled, “Of course.”

Spoke is not a bad person.

Yes, he’s done some bad things.

Yes, he’s taken things too far on multiple occasions.

But, his family did not hate him.

Spoke tucked himself under his covers and buried himself in Wemmbu’s sweater.

He was safe.

He was comfortable.

He was home.