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Wemmbu woke up with an unpleased groan. There was pressure building behind his eyes, forcing them closed. God, he was feeling like absolute shit.
His window was still open, allowing the wind to swing his curtains to the side. The moon lit up the room, reflecting on the window he hung up on the wall.
He took a shallow breath, focusing on the sounds outside. It wasn't particularly quiet, the ruffles of leaves and the wolfs' howling filling it.
The thin cover he draped over himself did a poor job at keeping him warm. His legs were trapped, tangled and almost making him trip when he rolled over.
His hand instinctively reached for the wall. It was cool against his palm, sending small chills through his fingers. It somehow relieved and worsened his headache at the same time.
It hurt, unreasonably so. Wemmbu pried his eyes open, his free hand hovering above, resting on his forehead. It was hot to his touch, too warm to be normal for an ender-being like him.
The cool light shining over his floor and furniture reflected off of them, right into his sensitive eyes. He winced, shutting them and taking a deep breath.
His body became too heavy to sustain only on his legs. Shaking and thin as his members were, they felt like lead as he desperately descended down towards the floor, falling to his knees.
It took almost everything in him to not just go and stretch against it, instead leaning back against the wall. His legs spread in front of him.
His hair felt gross, he noticed. It was knotted and heavy with sweat, falling in ugly clumps over his shoulders and down his back. One of his shaking hands tried to comb through it, pulling painfully at the knots.
He cried out in displeasure, something purely instinctual. His horns caught on a few hair strands, buried beneath the bird nest it formed. His tail was limp against the floor.
Wemmbu stopped moving for 10 whole minutes before deciding that the floor was not where he should be right now. So, despite the shake in his legs and the trembling in his hands, his eyes opened and he stood up against the wall.
Fuck.
It wasn't any better. The cool wind brushed his ribs. A small whimper left him as he winced, hitting his elbow on the wall. Maybe, if he could get in his storage room, he'd drink a regen potion and everything would be alright.
Wemmbu took a deep breath, ignoring how fractured and fragile it was. He carefully pushed himself off the wall, the movement sending jolts of pain through his entire body.
The second he tried to take a step, his knees buckled, sending him tumbling into the ground. He let out a strained sob, tears falling down his cheeks.
His back was back to being shoved against the wall, each move pulling at his hair. His face crumpled, tail swishing once, hitting the floor. He glanced towards his bedstand, hand reaching for the comm.
The moment it lit up was the exact same moment his lids closed almost all the way, trying to escape the birghtness of it.
Messily, he messaged the only person which was online, not being able to reply to whatever message je got in return. Everything hurt.
His knees drew up, arms sliding under them and dropping the comm. His head lowered, forhead resting right on them.
Who did he even message?
Flame was working on fixing the scratches his past few fight left on Fragger's delicate blade. The job was painstakingly slow, any harshness being able to damage it.
His armor was off. It was almost half past one in the morning, so the chances of actually being jumped were lower than usual. Even if, it wouldn't bother him to fight anyone in a hoodie and sweats.
Flame was humming a tune, some song he remembered learing from years ago, all the way back when he was little.
Nonetheless, the mindlessly repeated motion was something that was supposed to be relaxing; it was time for himself, for his own sanity and health.
So why was Wemmbu, out of all people, bothering him?
Whatever, it's not like he couldn't beat him in a fight. If Wemmbu fell off to the point of trying to trap him by asking for help, then it truly was not his problem.
The night was colder than usual; during the day it had rained, a blessing and curse for his fighting style. Raindrops wet his blindfold, the uncomfortable sensation sinking deep into his bones.
Regardless, Flame put his armor on as he left his base, quietly making his way across the server.
When he finally reached Wemmbu's doorstep, it was early morning. No sounds came from inside, not even the footsteps of such an energetic demon. It was strange.
Everything about this was strange, if he thought about it. Wemmbu wasn't the one to ask for help, never was and never will be. Flame was sure of it, giving the time he'd spent trying to learn when something was wrong.
During the Law fight, Wemmbu avoided asking him for other things that were not strictly combat related. He kept his wounds to himself, even if he was barely walking.
Flame, on more than one occasion, snuck into Wemmbu's chest room, sliding a couple rolls of bandages every other day. After all, a strong ally had to be in good fighting condition, he told himself.
Their other fights ended similarly. Wemmbu would push himself to his limit, struggling to keep up his facade. He'd hit Flame over and over again, ignoring how his wrists bruised.
Flame stopped giving his all when he noticed Wemmbu growing tired of it.
He opened the door without hesitation, stepping inside and observing the space. The air was still, almost as if no one was there except Flame. Almost, because his ears picked up muffled sounds from behind a door.
The light wasn't on, but the moon shone brighter than what he needed to see. Wemmbu was crumpled on the floor, knees brought up to his stomach. He was laying on his side, eyes closed and hair spread out behind him.
It was a disturbing sight. Wemmbu, who once stood powerfull in front of him, was now crushed by gravity's force.
Flame didn't notice his eyes were closed until they opened to glance at him. A deep, feral-like thing shone through them, pupils almost swallowing the lavander irises.
"Bro, you good?"
Wemmbu gave no answer, instead trying to straighten and get off the floor. The moonlight illuminated the delicate tear traces on his cheeks, pooling in the corner of his eyes and falling all the way down.
His hair was dirty, clinging to his forhead as if he forgot to dry it. Flame only now noticed how he trembled, standing on his own two feet and facing Flame.
His hands extended, tail following along in search for balance. Movement was not a good ideea with the haze that seemingly took over him, Flame thought.
Just as he opened his mouth to ask why was he actually here, Wemmbu stepped forward. Or at least he tried to. His knees buckled, and suddenly the floor was getting closer again.
Flame acted purely on instinct, doing something close to jumping to catch Wemmbh before he fell. His hands wrapped around his waist, one of them going up to the nape of his neck to sustain him.
Wemmbu's skin was hot to the touch, too hot for his liking. "Alright, bro, that's it. To bed we go!" He muttered, stirring them both to the side until Wemmbu was stretched comfortably on his mattress.
Healing, regen, a cool rag. That's what I need.
His trip to his enderchest was faster than normal, rushing back to see Wemmbu sitting against the bedframe, confused. "Flame?" He asked, voice raspy.
"Mhm. Come on, drink. I'm not asking twice." Flame stated, uncorking the two potions and pouring them down Wemmbu's neck. One of his hands lightly pressed his forehead backwards.
"Why're you here?" Wemmbu sluggishly spoke, leaning into Flame's palm. "Are you staying?"
"Idiot. Stop asking nonsense and go to sleep." Flame replied as he pushed Wemmbu down under the covers.
"But, you...," he reached out, fingers quietly intertwining with Flame's, "you're staying, right?"
Flame huffed as Wemmbu weakly pulled on his hand. "Fine. Just for tonight." He said and ignored the warmth blooming in his chest when Wemmbu smiled, taking off his armor instead.
He shuffled between Wemmbu and the wall, allowing (just this once) to let him seek the whatever it was that made him purr when he snuggled against his chest.
Wemmbu's cheek was planted on his shoulder, his other limbs wrapped tightly around his torso. One of Flame's hands secured him against his chest, the other beginning to untangle the mess that was his hair.
Wemmbu was going to deny this happening, but Flame will surely never let him get over it. Purring? In his arms? Yeah, this was going to be fun to deal with.
That, though, was a problem for tomorrow morning.