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Despite what Wemmbu thought, Flame doesn't wear a blindfold just for the thrill of not being able to see while fighting or for the aura it gives him. Flame would've been lucky if that was the case.
Instead, his parents had to accommodate him with it. Some of the nether-borns had this stupid curse hanging above them—whoever they looked at in the eyes, they fell in love with.
It was poetic for some people. Flame saw them go and fall in love, living happily ever after. He was a fighter, though. He didn't have time for love and relaxing and whatever else those gross people did.
He resulted in wearing his blindfold. It worked, obscuring his vision of the people around him. The last time he took it off while not asleep was when he was still little, playing with Mane around the nether fortress.
Then he was sent to the overworld. It wasn't particularly bad, but he had a hard time adjusting to how they lived with the changes in temperature. Few people actually asked him about the blindfold.
It's not like they had time before a sword was stabbing them. If he had no distractions, no attachments, then he was going to be an awesome fighter. That's what his parents told him and that's what Mane kept telling him.
It was true, too. No one could beat him in a duel. Even when he was fighting fairly and they weren't. It gave him so much confidence, the fact that they feared him.
When he was feeling lonely, he went to train. He'd hit his targets—mobs, players, silent dummies he planted around his house—and forget about his worries.
As long as he didn't fall in love, he would be fine.
Then Wemmbu became a constant in his life. With his stupid nukes and loud laugh, always searching for a fight. He was a good fighter, almost an even match for Flame.
Between them was always rivalry. Not words, not lingering touches or soft moments. Just the constant clash of weapons and tensed silence. They'd fight, pushing themselves to be better. It was nice, a contrast to the effortless kills.
Nothing was supposed to be between them. So you can imagine his surprise when his heart skipped a beat when he heard Wemmbu's voice blooming behind him. In fact, Flame didn't even notice it for a really long time.
When he did, it was so fucking annoying. He'd try to hit him and his ears picked up on a ragged breath or soft chuckle and he'd miss his hit. It was embarrassing beyond his understanding.
He didn't even know what Wemmbu looked like. One time his hair brushed his shoulder and he literally jumped back. Wemmbu's laugh was music to his ears and his teasing was doing things to his brain.
He then had to explain to Wemmbu that he really couldn't see with his blindfold. Wemmbu just hummed in response, telling him about his hair and even letting him touch it.
It was soft on his skin, silky and smooth and falling nicely between his fingers. It had a slight wave to it. Flame could've played with it all day long. Instead, he put on a neutral face and pulled his hand away.
Wemmbu let it down way more afterwards.
Flame couldn't comprehend what about Wemmbu was so intriguing. He thinks he was a head shorter than Flame, which was cute. Maybe. Just cute though, nothing more.
His heart kept skipping beats and destroying his timing. There was warmth in his tummy, stirring around and making his breathing hitch when they got to close.
It drove him crazy. When he was sure he was alone, he'd take his blindfold off and stare at himself in the mirror, tracing his figure with his eyes. It was brighter than in the nether, but his eyes adapted quickly.
Would Wemmbu's frame fit in fornt of him? Could he pull him in his arms and lay his head on top of his, smelling that familiar scent that meant Wemmbu? Would his hair still feel soft?
Did Wemmbu even want that? Sure, he allowed him to play with his hair, trying to teach a blind man how to braid and complaining about how difficult it was to do it on his own.
Wemmbu taught him how to braid. In the middle of the night, when he couldn't sleep, he'd turn on a lamp in his bedroom and practice braiding with a few of his dreads.
Wemmbu noticed him getting better at it. He even complimented him on finally succeeding in making a simple braid. Not even a french or dutch one, as he said. A simple braid, probably lopsided.
For the next week, he thought about how Wemmbu kept his hair braided. Braided by him. He even complimented his braid for lasting while he slept!
It did bad things to him. He was overthinking everything, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. Was Wemmbu cute? Did Wemmbu think he was cute?
Wemmbu toured his base once. They stopped fighting and his mouth moved before he could catch up with his brain. And Wemmbu accepted. He willingly came in Flame's base and walked around it, seeing who Flame was.
He even listened to him talking about little things he owned. Flame didn't realize he was rambling that much, practically orbiting around Wemmbu's entire being.
Wemmbu started coming over a lot more after that. He stole Flame's food. He continuously stole his food. Flame started cooking more despite the insults he threw at him. How were they supposed to talk normally?
Wemmbu winded up at his front door tonight. It wasn't usual, but Flame let him in anyways. He was now making him some food, roasted chicken and baked potatoes.
They weren't talking and throwing insults around like other times. Wemmbu was quiet, sitting in his place at the dining table. He was softly tapping the wood, eyes tracking Flame's movements.
They ate in silence. Outside, rain gently started falling. Should he offer to allow Wemmbu to stay? Would he even accept or would he laugh in his face.
The wind was picking up. It made tree branches crash in his windows. Wemmbu really should stay. "Are you staying?" He blurted while washing the now empty dishes.
Wemmbu's tapping paused for a minute before resuming. Flame heard him shrug, his clothes brushing against each other. "Sure." He didn't sound surprised by the question. Was Flame obvious? Was he planning to stay over?
"Where are we sleeping?" Wemmbu asked as if it was the most normal thing ever.
"Bro, there's no we. You're taking the couch."
Wemmbu shrieked. "Your couch is so low quality dude. I'm not sleeping on the couch!"
"There's no way you called my couch low quality! You've literally napped on it like two days ago. You slept for four hours straight!" He said, turning around to face Wemmbu.
"That's different. It was literally the middle of the day." Wemmbu argued.
"So? What, are you scared of the dark or something?" He chuckled. Wemmbu didn't answer. He didn't, which was enough of an answer for Flame to full on double over with laughter. "No way!"
"It's not funny, bro." He muttered, looking at the ground even though Flame couldn't see him.
The air shifted once Flame's laughter died down. There was a lingering sort of tension and he realized Wemmbu was waiting for an answer. "Fine. I'll protect you in you dreams or whatever."
Wemmbu didn't reply but started walking towards Flame's bedroom. It was weird, having to follow Wemmbu in his own base as if he didn't know where he was going. Still, he flopped on his bed the second he entered.
"Bro. Can I have some clothes? These aren't really comfortable to sleep in?" Wemmbu's voice rang from his doorway. Wemmbu would look good in his clothes.
"I hope you realize I can't see what you're wearing." Wemmbu probably had some awesome outfit on and Flame couldn't see it even if he wanted to so bad. "Pick out something that fits you." He pointed at his closet.
"Thanks."
That was all the dialogue they exchanged before Flame was back in his head. He wanted his blindfold off so much in this moment. For once, he didn't just want to hear or feel or smell, he wanted to see what was in front of him.
He heard Wemmbu pile his clothes on the ground. If he was already in love, there would be no change if he took it off. The warmth in his chest would remain there and his heart would continue to skip beats.
But he'd be able to see Wemmbu. He wanted to see him in his clothes, to see if his hoodie's sleeves fell below his fingers or if it hung tightly around his frame. He turned on his back.
Wemmbu sat closer to him than necessary and it did bad things to his brain. Their arms touched, a steady pressure. "Why aren't you taking your blindfold off?" He asked, his voice slicing the silence dangerously close to his ear.
Flame didn't reply for a good minute. He could lie and Wemmbu wouldn't question it. He could tell the truth and maybe Wemmbu would think he's lying. Two of Wemmbu's fingers hooked around the fabric and his hand instinctively closed around his wrist.
"Uhm. It's complicated." He settled on. It sounded stupid and made him look dumb, but Wemmbu just laughed at him.
"No, I know, Mane explained it to me." Mane? Why in the world would Mane tell him that! "I just thought we already established that we like each other."
Flame choked on air. "Where did that come from??" Wemmbu was full on laughing and there was heat rising in his cheeks. He couldn't have been that obvious, he simply couldn't.
"Bro, why did you think I keep coming here? Like what? Also, you're blushing whenever I get too close in a fight. It's so sweet." Wemmbu was smiling. He could literally hear his smile.
Wemmbu sounded genuine. Realistically, there wasn't any way Flame could know if he was lying, not without seeing his expression change. Even then he might miss it.
Wemmbu's hand retracted, bringing his wrist down with it. Then, the other tilted his chin slightly. He let out a confused hum before a pair of soft lips was on his.
The kiss barely lasted five seconds. Flame was left stunned, he could still feel Wemmbu's head close to his, their breaths coming out a little faster than usual. Wemmbu being next to him felt good, but his lips being on his felt right. "Please, Flame?"
"Fuck." He breathed. "Yeah, yeah you can."
Saying Wemmbu was beautiful would be a highly offensive understatement. His hair was as luscious as he imagined it, a few purple strands falling in his face. His features were soft but visible even in the dark.
His eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. They literally lit up at seeing Flame and he looked like he was also genuinely seeing him for the first time. They studied his face, locking on his eyes.
Flame's eyes were a light hazel color. He knew that much from staring in the mirror for countless hours. Flame also knew that Wemmbu's purple eyes would match his perfectly.
His hoodie was big on him. It pooled around his waist, bright red contrasting his purple hair. It suited him so well and he was sure Wemmbu knew it too, from the way he was smirking.
Nothing changed in his chest. His heart was beating too fast and he'd bet his pupils were small little hearts instead of circles, but he stared at Wemmbu, foreheads touching.
"I—" He started without thinking. He what? Thought Wemmbu was beautiful? Loved him? He certainly knew all of those things already, so what point was there in saying them.
Instead of continuing his trail of thoughts, he leaned in, tentatively closing the soace between them. Wemmbu smiled, bringing his hands around his back.
One of Flame's own hand found its way in Wemmbu's hair, brushing through it once before settling. When he pulled away he was sure his face was redder than it had ever been.
Regardless, he brought Wemmbu closer, burying his head in his hair. Wemmbu huffed but didn't pull away, shifting to get more comfortable before fully relaxing.
He didn't want to have to stop looking at Wemmbu, even if in the morning he knew his blindfold awaited discarded on the ground. Flame didn't want to let go, for once.