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Flame's new base was unnervingly still and quiet all the time. Lomedy was off on his weird adventures again, having disappeared one morning with only a note left behind. It was kind of hurtful, in his opinion, but again; he'd most likely do the same thing.
His mornings were now quiet. The soft sheets of his bed always created a sleep-trap, pulling him under again and again before he actually woke up. Then Flame would find himself spending unnecessary minutes getting ready for a day of doing nothing other than wandering around his base.
The corridors bled into each other, cold stone bricks clinking under the weight of his boots. Flame didn't even wear his full armor anymore, but the floor was cool to his touch without any heathers around. Sure, he was living in a mesa, where it was incredibly hot, but he'd much rather be warm than cold.
It took him an embarrassing amount of time to memorize each spot from his base. The first couple of days were spent searching for weaknesses and escape routes, as well as mentally laying out a nice interior design—nothing fancy, just some furniture here and there.
His third and fourth day passed with him gathering materials, crafting items and then polishing them to his liking. The sun shone brightly in the sky, offering its quiet comfort. Without Lomedy here, Flame had a lot of time to process his thoughts and sometimes they'd be too much.
Despite being a solo fighter, bouncing ideas around never bothered him. It helped observing them from another perspective and having a different opinion on them. Lomedy never shut him out, not even when he was tired. He'd listen, nodding along and murmuring his occasional suggestions.
The fifth day without Lomedy was completely unproductive. Flame wandered around, not modifying anything. He'd walk inside an empty room, glancing around while standing in the middle. He'd picture what went where—a couch in the far back, a coffee table in front, maybe a bookshelf—before moving on to another, telling himself he'd be right back.
But Flame didn't actually start furnishing the base until the eighth day. A full week without Lomedy, without talking to anyone else except for himself, which, he had to admit, was kind of unpleasant. It drove him mad. His body was restless, not being able to go still for a full hour before pacing.
Half of his base was done on the eighth day, the other being completed on the ninth. Now, after getting up, he had more options of where to pass time. He'd brew potions for the first couple of hours, or until the sun reached midday, then quickly eat lunch and spend his evening reading.
Reading was actually wonderful, he figured. The books were a nice distraction from the quietness of his base, stirring thoughts about the main characters and their future. He'd learn a thing or two from Lomedy's plant-related books, things he'd recall during the day.
After a while he stopped counting the days since Lomedy's leave. He brew enough potions to last all year and reading became his main activity, besides sleeping, of course. With nothing to do in the morning, he slept in late, waking up too early for diner and too late for lunch.
Then, around the twentieth day, his peaceful slumber was disturbed by a loud knock on his bedroom door. It took his brain a full minute to register what was happening, not being used to waking up this early to noise, out of all things. Flame stumbled to his door, the knocking continuing until he unlocked it.
Flame wasn't going to lie, he wasn't really sure who was behind the door. He'd been too out of it to even put his chestplate on, or take Fragger out. But shiny, purple hair, crowned with a pointy goledn tiara and two small horns were nowhere near the top of his non-existent list.
He froze, one of his hands remaining on the door while the other was stuck in the motion of rubbing sleep away from his eyes. It seemed to leave on his own anyways, as the reality of who was in front of him sunk in.
Wemmbu was almost a full head shorter of him, his forehead barely reaching his chin. He wasn't wearing any of his usual flashy attire, instead replacing it with some casual sweats and a bright purple hoodie. His arms were shoved inside it as he looked expectantly at Flame.
That morning, because the sun had barely risen and Wemmbu was clearly not planning on leaving or on fighting him, he ended up cooking breakfast for two for the first time in a really long while. He was still in his pijama, which was a nice word for the worn-out tshirt and the black shorts he used.
Wemmbu waited patiently for him to finish cooking, following his every move from where he stood at Flame's dining table. If he thought about it, Flame didn't use the kitchen much despite having too much free time and it showed—not in the way the food tasted, no, but in the way where he looked lost, trying to remember what went where.
It was sweet, how he spun around. Wemmbu's seen him cook before, all the way back when they were fighting the Law, but this time was so different from before.
During their alliance, Flame'd always know where to go, like he was two steps ahead of the ingredients he was using. He acted like he knew what he was doing, which he did, cutting up vegetables with the same precision he used to absolutely butcher Wemmbu up during fights
But now? Now, Flame was acting like he just woke up and wanted to go right back to sleep. His steps were sluggish, movement slowed in a way that made him seem more transparent, like he had nothing to hide. Wemmbu was seeing the limited morning-Flame in action. It was the only peaceful interaction they had that day, the tension returning the second Flame drank his coffee.
He immediately dropped his fork, ignoring the way Wemmbu winced at the sharp clatter it made when it hit the plate. It took another ten minutes to convince him that no, he wasn't here to fight, and no, he didn't know where Lomedy was and no, he wasn't blowing anything up. For now.
Flame was, thankfully, tired enough to let it go and return to munching on his food. He still eyed Wemmbu suspiciously, not even trying to hide the glares he threw at him. His blindfold was long forgotten. He gave up on wearing it inside, given the fact that he was supposed to be all alone.
Wemmbu's seen his eyes before though. He'd gotten countless head injuries which required proper check-ups, and doing that with a blindfold in the way was a no-go, as Wemmbu explained one sad afternoon after they ran from the Law. Flame's balance had been completely off, resulting in him acting recklessly and getting injured.
Wemmbu followed him around the entire day. It was tense and awkward, neither knowing how to start a conversation. They'd exchange quick, short and slightly polite phrases, then go back to being quiet and keeping the other in their peripheral view. It didn't help that most of the effort came from Wemmbu, as Flame was still skeptical about his presence.
When the afternoon came, succeeding a lunch filled with nothing other than Flame's laughter when Wemmbu choked, he settled in his usual place at the end of the couch, his legs stretched on the coffee table. He picked up reading from where he left the day before, ignoring whatever Wemmbu was up to.
And Wemmbu wasn't up to much, if he was being honest. He stood into the doorway, watching Flame with an awareness that wasn't present all day, before shuffling over to the couch. He didn't sit on the opposite end though, as he expected.
Wemmbu found his place a good distance from Flame, laying back with his head on the armrest. He stood like that for a while, legs hanging awkwardly off the couch, before hesitantly lifting them and resting them on top of Flame's.
Flame glanced at the new contact, before glaring at Wemmbu and returning to his book. Wemmbu closed his eyes and almost missed the way his legs relocated to make it more comfortable for Wemmbu.
He left shortly after the sun started setting. He didn't say goodbye, not really, but he did nod once before shutting the door behind him. Flame returned to reading for a while, before going to sleep. For the first time in a while, even from before Lomedy left, Flame fell asleep with a completely empty mind, except for a pestering thought. Wemmbu.
Flame started expecting Wemmbu after the first two days it happened. He also stopped supervising him like he was two seconds away from pulling out his nukes, which seemed to trigger Wemmbu's instinct to yap. And, for however long he's despised the quiet, Wemmbu ranting was enough of a filler.
It wasn't much, at first. A few short stories resembling what adventures he was on with Egg during lunch and breakfast. But, as the days passed, it morphed to almost constant talking. Complaints about the weather, suggestions on room decor, stupid little theories about random things filled the air.
Flame found himself not minding it. He kept reading, occasionally shifting his legs to relieve pressure. One time he even put his book down, giving Wemmbu his full attention, which backfired on him more than he'd ever thought was possible. Because it shouldn't have been possible.
Flame's eyes found his, which were already lingering. Soft lavender, with a few golden flakes around his pupils. They seemed to light up upon realizing he had Flame intrigued. His back straightened, arms starting to motion wildly, but Flame wasn't really listening.
He was stuck on studying how his features changed, the edges of his mouth tilting upwards when smiling, eyes crinkling along. There were shadows from his long lashes, barely covering two small moles. His lips were soft, moving in time with his hands.
Wemmbu looked breathtakingly beautiful. Not handsome, because that was too masculine for the way his hair framed his cheekbones. Not hot, because there was no sharp feature to light such flames. Cute, maybe, but it didn't feel that little. A kitten was cute, but Wemmbu was ethereal.
His breath caught in his throat, almost making him choke. His eyes drifted unconsciously to his Wemmbu's lips, lingering before jumping back to his eyes. Those eyes, which he hallucinated knowingly soften with something close to awe.
Flame stayed up until midnight, replaying the small change in them, thinking then rethinking until he passed out.
The next day, Flame wasn't woken up by the loud knocking. In fact, he was asleep until midday again. His chest twisted with something unrecognizable and strange before his brain processed the fact that Wemmbu wasn't here. But then there was the soft clattering of dishes in the kitchen, and he huffed before walking out.
Wemmbu's cooking wasn't as good as his, but it didn't matter. His brain was hyper-fixated on the fact that the food he was eating was made by Wemmbu for him. Not anyone else, but Flame.
Wemmbu settled with his head in Flame's lap that afternoon, hair fanned over the armrest. His legs were almost reaching the other end of the couch. There were a few minutes of unsure silence, while Wemmbu settled, followed by a couple more since Flame's arms didn't know what to do. Especially not under Wemmbu's watchful gaze.
One of them ended up on his upper chest, covering his shoulders, while the other held up his book. Though it was quickly dismissed as turning a page was too much effort and the way Wemmbu's hair was splayed, looking impeccable became the knew place Flame's hand conquered.
He carefully twisted a couple strands around in his fingers, watching Wemmbu for any sort of discomfort. His lips twitched into a small grin, eyes closing as he let out a pleased, encouraging hum.
That was the push both of them needed to get bolder. Flame was lifting his hands after he sat down, waiting for Wemmbu to take his new place, before rearranging strands in his hair in ways he's never thought was possible. It was like his off switch. Wemmbu, on more occasions, greeted him with a hug.
Now, on another night, Wemmbu knowingly missed his usual leaving time. He knew that, and Flame knew it too. Because Wemmbu opened his eyes when he was supposed to leave, but proceeded to watch the sun set while reveling in Flame's touch.
It was quiet again, as they stepped into uncharted territory. At some point, when the only light was coming from the weakened candles, Wemmbu pushed himself up on his elbows, before sitting against the headrest. His hair was messy, falling over his hoodie. He glanced at Flame, who only twisted his head in a questioning motion.
His eyes were fixed on him, searching deep for answers. It was cute, seeing the FlameFrags worked up over something so small as Wemmbu's touch. It made him question, how far could he go,
He didn't quite stand, but he shuffled closer to Flame, breaking eye contact to glance at the way his breath visibly hitched and his eyes held a whirlwind of emotion. Wemmbu then threw one of his legs over Flame's lap, basically straddling him. His fingers found their way to clutch at the soft fabric of Flame's hoodie, above his heart, his other hand wrapping around his neck.
It beat unusually fast, quickening as he leaned forward, all the way until their foreheads touched. They were breathing the same air, both stunned and unsure. Eventually, Flame's hands settled on Wemmbu's waist, tightening slightly, as if to reassure that he was really there.
Flame's muscles relaxed, a part of his confidence returning to him as his head tilted, making their noses brush. "Wemmbu." He said, breathless despite not doing anything. Wemmbu smiled, staring knowingly in his eyes, inviting him to continue. "Fuck. I, uh... Can I kiss you?"
He didn't receive a confirmation, other than the slightest pull from the hand buried in his hodie. Their lips touched, soft and carefull, before it fully registered to both of them what was happening. Wemmbu pulled away, eyes searching Flame's again, as if he didn't have anything else to see.
Flame didn't wait. His hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush agains his chest, mouths reuniting. Wemmbu took control, tongue prying at his lips, coaxing them to open. His hand tangled in Flame's dreads, guiding his head back to allow easier access. Flame let out a soft gasp, which made Wemmbu smile against him.
His tongue licked the top of his mouth, meeting Flame's halfway down and doing a gentle circle around it. His forehead pressed together, and even though Flame was doing basically nothing, allowing him to play on his level, Wemmbu melted against him.
At some point, he pulled away, heaving. The candle went out, the room dimly lit by the moonlight. Still, he pressed his lips against his nose, smiling at Flame's astonished expression. "You okay?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, expression shifting in time with when he tried to push away.
"Yeah, I'm okay. More than okay. Fuck, Wemmbu, bro, I love you." He whispered, hand softly cupping his cheek, trailing low under his eye and brushing those two moles.
Wemmbu huffed out a breathless laugh, burying his head in the crook of Flame's neck before murmuring. "Yeah. Me too. I love you too, Flame."