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Blood pooled beneath his feet, filling the cracks in the marble flooring with a crimson mess. This was going to be a pain to clean up. He grabbed the shower handle, twisted it until cold drops of water trickled down from the shower head, washing the mess down the drain like nothing happened. He tilted his head upwards to face the shower head, letting himself drown in the calmness the tapping of water against the tiles provided him. The coldness of the water stung his arms though he paid no attention to it as clear droplets snaked their way between openings on his skin. The blood that sat between the tiles were now diluted to a rosy pink, swirling beneath him, slowly making their way down the drain like a whirlpool.
“Wemmbu, can you go to the store to buy some more salt when you’re done? I forgot to buy some last week.”
Seriously? Now? Couldn’t this kid wait like a few hours or something? Why's Egg making dinner at four in the afternoon anyways.
“Yeah, give me a few.” Staring back down at the mess he was in after yelling at the door, Wemmbu quickly finished rinsing out all the blood between the crevices of the shower floor and dried off his arms before digging through the cabinet for bandages. Shoot, I’m out. The cardboard cylinder he held only had only a bit of white residue stuck to the surface, he stared it down like it had betrayed him. All he could do now was to hope he wouldn’t bleed through his sweatshirt.
Wemmbu walked out to the living room, changed into his shoes and walked out the apartment. The moment he left the building, a gust of cold air immediately hit him like a truck. It was only September yet the weather was cold enough for him to be dressed in winter attire already. The lack of sunlight from the clouds didn’t help either, it seemed like it could rain any second.
Luckily for him the grocery store was only two blocks away from his apartment, so at least he didn’t have to deal with the wind for too long. The walk was filled with mostly silence except for the sound of wind rushing against his ears and the clinking of pebbles getting kicked beneath his feet. He seriously needed to start remembering to bring his headphones with him when running errands.
By the time he walked into the store he was shivering, thank god the store had some heating system inside. The boy made his way towards the seasoning aisle, picked out a bag of salt, went to look for bandages, and quickly made his way to the check out line. All that he wanted to do was to go home and rot in his bed on this Thursday afternoon, in fact the weather was perfect for doing absolutely nothing the whole day. He questioned why he wasted a perfectly good hour on going to buy some salt when Egg could’ve done it himself.
Snapped back to reality, he looked up to see that the cashier had finished scanning the two items, followed by them asking if he was going to pay cash or card. Wemmbu took out his phone and tapped it on the screen, not bothering to converse with the worker.
By the time he got back, Egg was mostly done with the cooking, there was a pan on the stove with the lid on while the boy was nowhere to be found.
“Egg?” His voice rang through the apartment, “I got the salt, it’s on the counter top.”
He made his way towards the living room, he could hear the tv on, it was some minecraft video or something. After walking in, he noticed his friend on the couch like nothing mattered in the world. “Oh hi Wemmbu, I’ll get back to cooking when this is done.”
He fought the urge to crash out at him for asking him to get the salt for him but chose to not speak up about that. “I’ll eat later, just leave my portion in the microwave.” Wemmbu mumbled in response, dragging himself back towards his room. He changed back into his pajamas before slumping into bed. He hated days like these, days filled with nothing, just silence between every move. Days where he’s forced inside his head and he’s able to think about everything that’s happened in his life, every action, every mistake, every undesirable outcome; all piled into a mountain that he has to climb over and think about over and over until he physically cannot handle it anymore and pass out. He pulled his covers over himself, if only he could suffocate in the warmth of his bed and be left with nothing but hazy dreams where he’s able to live out his life instead of being the person he became.
Under the covers of his bed, his seemed to have amounted to nothing; now, his head was filled with emptiness, not a lack of thoughts but quite the contradictory: overflowing thoughts of how he was nothing. How he’ll constantly struggle to reach his goals, and how one day he just wants to achieve something extraordinary, but that day will never come. Perhaps he should start contributing his energy into a greater cause, so at least he’ll be able to be part of something bigger than himself, and not forgotten when his inevitable death comes.
Few minutes of pointless dwindling over a choice he made years ago passed as he decided he’d rather have music in his ears than him talking to himself about how shit his life was. He quickly sat up, a bit too quick as there was immediately a headache that awaited him. Hands patted around on the desk next to his bed, looking for something, before settling on his headphones. Thank god, one more minute of overthinking and I might just combust. Music slowly pooled into his ears while the mountain of thoughts drowned under beautiful melodies. Wemmbu slowly slipped into a state of slumber.
A few hours later he woke up to the sound of a robotic voice telling him to charge his headphones and darkness that blinded him. Wemmbu sat up, slowly this time, the clock on his nightstand blinked a slow and steady display that read 2:13. He turned on his phone's flashlight, noticing the blotches of red on the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he got up. Could his day get any worse? To be fair it was technically a new day and it was only getting worse now, but still, another nuisance he had to deal with.
Careful to not trip on something he left on the ground, Wemmbu made his way towards the bathroom. Warm orangish light immediately flushed into his eyes, he shut his eyes as fast as he could to stop himself from going blind. A soft buzz filled the air, they seriously needed to change out the bulbs. After a few minutes of adjusting he could finally see again, and turned his attention back towards his arms. The fabric of his sweatshirt was now stuck to his cuts, bounded by dry blood and scabs that began to form.
Great.
Slowly, he submerged it in warm water, careful to not just rip the piece of fabric off and make it worse. Wemmbu really can’t complain though, he did this to himself. He willingly went to sleep before taking care of his wounds and now this is what happens, there's only himself to blame for that.
By the 10 minute mark he decided that it was probably better to just rip off the bandaid in one quick second rather than spending god knows how long to slowly separate the dried up blood clots from the fabric.
And that's how Wemmbu ends up sitting in the bathroom for 3 hours straight, torn between cleaning up and giving into his negative thoughts once more. He opened his phone, his social media was filled with friends excited to be back and to see all their friends at the start of the new semester. Unread chats weren’t anything new either, either friends telling him plans about hanging out to catch up or newer students reaching out towards him because of how well known he was at school.
It was all because of fencing, that’s what everyone knew him from. The school news posts countless stories of him crushing competitions left and right, always winning no matter the odds. Wemmbu was unbeatable, he was number one until the last meet of the season. That was the first time he has lost since high school, and it couldn’t have been more embarrassing. The cheering of crowds was still burned into his ears, except that time those cheers weren’t for him, they were for Flamefrags. He hated his guts, Wemmbu would tear him apart if he could, rip his limbs off and punch him to death with his own two fists.
After that match, for the first time in forever, Wemmbu began to doubt his abilities. Was he really as good as people made him out to be or had he just been getting lucky with his opponents all this time? Usually he wouldn’t care if people wanted to suck up to him, in fact he would love it, using his status to take as much advantage as he could. Yet it felt wrong, he no longer deserved this treatment when he was second best. All this just made him nauseous, he wasn’t as strong as the persona he’s always had.
February. The weather was still cold, clumps of snow lingered on the sidewalks while students all around campus still dressed in coats and sweaters. It wasn’t warm enough for any of the outdoor sports to begin their season so those got delayed.
Wemmbu stood at the opposite side of his opponent per usual, this should be another easy opponent. Familiar black mesh covered his eyes, the weight of the sabre was light and easy as always. The clock started and the first period began. He's done this a million times, it didn’t matter if he was tired, he could do it again. Attack, then score. Easy. Except when he reached his sabre out towards the opponent they inched back—the tip of the blade fell short. No worries, he just had to parry and riposte. Carefully, he blocked the other’s blade with his own, swiftly jumping to hit the other person. One point, the arena lit up in purple. Great, now he just had to get 14 more. This will end in no time. The referee asked the two to go back to the starting points, his movements felt light and easy, flowing naturally to him until—
The arena lit up in red as the crowd roared once more, except this time it wasn’t for him.
That’s fine! He’ll just bounce right back and get the points back. Attack, parry, riposte, step back, attack, score. If he keeps going like this he’ll surely win by the third period.
The third period never started. Flamefrags got 15 points before time was up while he was left with three. How pathetic.
However, February was 7 months ago, and he had spent the whole summer training, surely he’ll be able to beat him the next time there was a competition. He was sure of it. Determined, he rinsed off the last bits of dried up blood on his skin and bandaged his arms, sulking over something he couldn’t do anything about was unproductive.
Next morning he woke up to the sound of Egg opening his door, asking him something about the food he left for him on the counter.
“Sorry I was asleep until now.” Somewhat true.
“Just, remember to eat soon alright?” The other responded back in a worried tone.
“Yeah sure whatever.”
The boy seemed concerned behind the messy bangs that covered his eyes, Eggchan should really invest in some more hobbies instead of constantly bugging him about his own habits, maybe he could pick up gardening or something. Wemmbu was a grown adult and more than capable of taking care of himself, he didn’t need someone to nag him over every meal he doesn’t eat.
He stumbled out of bed once more, grabbed a hair tie to put all his hair into a pony tail before heading out to eat. The sun pierced through the slit between the curtains, casting a thin line of light on the floor and filled the room with a nauseating warmth that made Wemmbu want to puke. Bipolar ass weather, couldn’t it have been this sunny yesterday? He looked inside the fridge, nothing piqued his interest, the only things that looked somewhat eatable were the left over fried rice and a single slice basque cheese cake. Slamming the fridge shut, not hungry enough to eat, he instead made his way back towards his room. The lack of food he’s been consuming lately had really caused his stomach to shrink, he could live without breakfast. Though usually having a few bites a meal before deciding he was too full to eat more did make his gut hurt a lot more, he should probably get that checked out.
Egg walked past him while eating his own slice of cake. “Dude seriously, eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Bro you need to eat if you wanna beat Flame.”
“How is that even correlated in the slightest?”
“Well, if you don’t eat you won’t have the energy to train, then you’ll get weaker.”
“I really cannot believe you think I’m that weak when you bruise from a light jab.”
“Hey, I’m not the one fighting the strongest guy on the team okay?”
“Oh and you’re siding with him too now?”
“No—” The white haired boy sighed, “I was just referring to what happened last season, he won.”
“Yeah and that was a one time thing! You’ll agree that he’s the strongest just because he beat me once? While I haven’t lost for five years straight?”
“Look I just don't want to make you too over confident and—”
“So you won’t even support me now? Some friend you are!” Wemmbu knows he’s being more than unreasonable, but how else was he supposed to act in a situation like this? Was it really so hard just for Egg to support him a bit more and see that there was no way that fight with Flame was just a one time thing?
“C’mon Wemmbu just, just listen to me—” He chose to ignore the other.
But he knows better than anyone else that it wasn’t a fluke. Wemmbu had really just become second best. Was everything he’s done before that also just out of sheer luck? Was Egg right, that he was getting weak? Did he even deserve all the praise he’s gotten in the past few years when it just took some random guy on a random afternoon to put him in his place? He snapped back to reality, but before he could apologize Egg had already walked away.
Attention now down at his phone he wondered if he should just hang out with someone and get his mind off this issue. Surely that’ll help. Except when he looked at his inbox they were all just people he didn’t want to see, how lovely. Perhaps he should just go train, he’ll prove Egg wrong, he’ll show him that he was strong enough to beat Flame.
Wemmbu made his way towards the gym, remembering his headphones this time. Not many people crowded the building, probably having something to do with school starting soon and people busy with settling into dorms and apartments. At least he didn’t have to wait around for a treadmill to become available.
By the time he came back home he was drenched in sweat, he didn’t know which was worse: walking all the way back home looking like he just fell into a lake because he didn’t need people to see his cuts in a public place or the headache that followed. Either way, he was just thankful to finally be able to wash himself under a warm shower. Water flowed freely, drowning Wemmbu in tranquility, it was the only thing that seemed to be able to calm him down these days, apart from sleeping. Something about the way the water was able to wash everything he hated down the drain, it’ll occupy his mind until he has to step out. Beneath the fraudulent warmth, all the expectations have seemingly melted off him, he was safe. For now.
When he was finally done scrubbing his skin for the millionth time, he found himself back in bed, laying still and doing absolutely nothing. There wasn’t anything that could interest him when his mind was solely focused on beating Flame. He stared at the ceiling, not sure where else to divert his attention. There was something stuck in his throat, something he couldn’t cough up, maybe it was jealousy or hatred. The world began to shake, he could see everything around him move around, tears pricked his eyes, threatening to trickle down his face. If he was stronger this wouldn’t be an issue he had to deal with. If he was stronger he might actually be deserving to live.
But not even the sickness that plagued his body could make him take his mind off the matter. He was going to beat this guy one way or another, it didn’t matter anymore, not when his livelihood depended on it. Wemmbu was going to make sure he gets his victory, it was all that mattered. He has to see the other go down.
However when try outs came and he was standing in front of Flame once again, all that confidence seemed to disintegrate. His hand trembled slightly, he couldn’t breath, a certain lightheadedness began overtaking him. But who was he to complain when he’s been dying for a rematch for months? So he sucked it up and fought as best as he could, he really did, Wemmbu poured every last bit of strength and stamina he could into this fight and yet, careful with every move to not let the other score. Attack, step back, parry, step forth, counterattack, score. Except once again the arena lit up in red lights that only seemed to mock his incapabilities. Breath in, and out. Trying not to let the undesirable start get the best of him he once again steadied his hand as best as he could. Fall back, parry, deflect the blade, score. The crowd stood up in another wave of roars as the lights lit up—red.
Attack, lunge forward, the other had deflected his blade, they scored.
Defend. Parry. Step back. The other scores once more.
Flame had made all the work he’s put in this sport seem like nothing, all the training, hours staying back with his teacher, it was all in vain.
“Good game.” The other walked over, offering a hand out towards him.
In response Wemmbu just slapped it away, he knew he was being a bad sport, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Are you seriously mad about that?”
“Yes! I’ve been beaten by you twice already!”
“I mean, you’re still pretty good though, you outskill everyone else here.”
“Yeah and losing to you broke my streak!”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to accept that I’m better than you.”
Okay now this guy was just rubbing salt in the wound at this point. He wanted to yell at him but starting a scene might do more harm than good for him so he just bit his tongue and turned away. He’ll get his revenge someday.
Wemmbu walked outside, noticing a blond boy sitting on the benches, the other seemed to take notice of the purple haired boy as well and gave him a wave.
“How did it go?” The other interrogated
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The other laughed not out of mockery but understanding, “well you’ve just gotta work harder then huh?”
“You’re saying this to me as if you didn’t also lose to him Theo.”
“I’m not the one sulking over a loss, c’mon lighten up, let’s go get a few drinks.”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
Wemmbu thought for a bit, it’d be nice to finally loosen up for once, but being hung over would cause him to have less time to train tomorrow, and who knows how the alcohol might impact him. Still despite his lack of an answer the other pulled him up by the wrists and towards the dinner just across the street.
Upon settling down at a booth they were quickly greeted by a waiter getting them started with some water and their orders.
“Are you lightweight? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink a lot at parties before.”
“I just, don’t drink a lot I guess,” Wemmbu fiddled with his hoodie sleeve, not sure where to keep his eyes. “Bad for training and stuff.”
“You’re always too worried about that! It’s always about competitions for you isn’t it? I’m telling you, you’ve gotta learn how to take breaks or you’ll just burn out one day!”
Burn out? There’s no way, he was a fire in a forest and as long as there’s still people constantly praising his every move he’ll keep that fire going.
“That’s why you’re only number four on the team.” Wemmbu muttered under his breath.
Theo chose to not hear that comment.
“So uh, anything fun lately?” Theo tried to divert the conversation to something lighter.
“No.” Wemmbu responded blankly, grabbing the beer that had just been brought to their table as an escape from any further questions.
“Oh well, I’ve been helping Parrot campaign for student president, you should consider voting for him.” The other took a swig of alcohol.
“Yeah sure.” Wemmbu really wasn’t giving the other a lot to work with, but in his defence what was he supposed to say when his days were filled with endless training then going home to hate on himself until he fell asleep?
“Do you, uh, want to talk about something, maybe?”
“Not particularly. Unless you have something you want to talk about.”
“Okay dude there’s clearly something wrong, are you sure you don’t wanna talk? Maybe it’ll help.”
The last thing Wemmbu wanted was to be seen as weak by another person, so he chose to shake his head. He can deal with all his mental stuff alone. Being vulnerable was for losers.
“Well uh, how ‘bout I buy you dinner huh? You’ve been getting thinner, have you been eating less?”
“It’s just because of training, plus I’m not hungry.”
“Seriously? Even after all that fencing you did today?”
“No.”
“Well tell me if you change your mind.” The boy waved over a waiter, spent a good five minutes deciding between which sandwich to get before returning back to his conversation with Wemmbu, if it could even be called that. It was probably closer to a monologue while Wemmbu got completely wasted.
By the time Wemmbu got back home he’s probably consumed five bottles of beer. Feet barely able to keep him upright, he stumbled back into his apartment, leaning onto the wall the entire way up the stairs, wobbling left and right. It was hard to believe that the same person who could precisely move around and dodge blades was now barely able to walk back to the apartment he’s had for two years. Thankfully Egg was quick to notice struggling sounds when Wemmbu finally made his way to the front door and came over to see what was going on.
“Did you go out to drink? There’s no way you did that willingly.”
“Theodraggedmeout…” He mumbled, slurring his words, and stumbled around until Egg dragged him over to sit down on the couch.
“Well uh, how much did you drink?”
“Four or five bottles of beer?”
“Dude there’s no world where you’d be able to handle that much, did Theo even try to stop you? Actually I don’t think he was sober enough to.”
Wemmbu hummed and leaned his weight onto his friend.
“Okay lets just get you to sleep okay? I don’t need you doing something stupid while you’re this drunk.” Egg grabbed onto the other's arm and swung it over his shoulder, the boy was lighter than the last time he had to do this. Probably with the lack of eating the other has been doing. He carefully tucked the other into bed, as Wemmbu had seemingly passed out within the span of him being dragged to his room.
When Wemmbu woke up his head hurted like hell, he could feel something slam against his skull. With all the energy that he could muster up he yelled out to Egg. By some miracle, the other boy was able to wake up pretty quickly and came to his room.
“What do you need? It’s six in the morning.”
“My head hurts, can you get me medicine?”
“I don’t think we have any left.”
He let out a loud whine, Wemmbu always acted like a child when things didn’t go his way, this behavior only got worse with his current condition.
“Fine, I'll go see what we have.” Egg left the room, leaving Wemmbu by himself once more.
He sat up from the previous position he was in, the sun has yet to wake up. Everything seemed way duller than usual, almost monochrome.
Egg soon came back with a pill bottle and a glass of water. “Here, we only have ibuprofen.”
He tossed the drug into his mouth carelessly before quickly downing it with a large gulp of water. The pill only amplified the discomfort in his throat, he groaned tiredly.
“I’ll make you something and you better eat it okay?”
“Yeah sure whatever.” Wemmbu wasn’t in the mood to argue right now, in fact he might even feel like eating a bit because of his headache.
He laid back down but instead of drowsiness washing over him it was instead replaced with a sense of dread. Without much luck in returning back to being unconscious he decided washing up was the next best thing and would have to do for now. He dragged himself down the hall to the door that was skinnier than the rest, opening it revealed a messy counter that Wemmbu hadn't been bothered to clean yet. After digging around in the drawers for a bit he finally found a small box cutter that still had a few bits of dried blood on the handle tucked deep in the back behind boxes of alcohol wipes and soap.
Letting himself fall onto the floor, he let out a sigh of relief at the familiarity of the position he was in. This had been the default place for him whenever he felt down for the past couple of months, the smell of iron had become too close to dislike and the burning pain comforted him like kin. Slowly a sharp metal blade slid across thin delicate skin, bumping into scars every few moments as the only thing that followed was the promise of beautiful crimson tears and bliss. Openings appeared across his arms, they were like mouths, talking to him, thanking him. Yes, this was the solution to all his problems and soon enough he won’t have anything to worry about. This was his ticket away from this horrible life ruined by some guy he’ll never be able to beat. Why hadn’t he thought about this sooner? To think that it was right in front of him this whole time and yet he’s failed to see it until now. He was cutting the chains off himself, no longer will he be bound to this life he didn’t choose. His body got lighter as eyes opened through his flesh and cried beautiful tears of happiness until they all pooled together into bloody streams that covered the floor. He was finally flying, he was finally free, there’ll be no more of that past he despised so much, it was over.
“Wemmbu?” A voice rang in the distance though he no longer wanted to pay attention to it, not when he was so close to freedom that it could be tasted on his lips and tongue. “I know you don’t want to eat but it’ll help you feel better!”
No, I feel great! Wemmbu wanted to yell out though he didn’t have the energy anymore, nothing can compare to the absolute euphoria he was experiencing now. He dragged across another stroke, in his mind he’d be holding a paint brush, his flesh would be the canvas, and this would be a masterpiece.
It didn’t matter anymore, the stress, the competition, no it’ll all soon fade to oblivion.
“Wemmbu, where are you?” The voice was getting closer though he couldn’t care, he barely had any strength to respond to the worried tone that was now right outside of the door. There was a knock, a brief moment of silence, then the handle turned and—
“I was looking everywhere for you—What did you do to yourself?! Oh my god…” The other seemed frantic, but why? Wemmbu wondered to himself, he wanted to tell him to calm down, he felt fine except for the sting that began settling in. He wanted to say that he’s never felt better, though the other had already begun calling someone. He wasn’t too sure of who he was calling until he heard loud sirens outside, before he knew it the bathroom was crowded with people and they were lifting him onto something.
Why did Egg have to ruin it? Wemmbu hated this feeling, the helplessness as he got strapped into a stretcher, the ringing in his ears, the pounding in his head, he just wanted this to stop—he just wanted everything to end.
Not only did he fail to beat Flame but he couldn’t even kill himself. This was pathetic.
He woke up to fluorescent light engulfing him, the smell of hand sanitizer, and the constant beeping of his heart rate in the background. If he was able to ignore the last two he might’ve almost believed he ended up in heaven, unfortunately his thoughts were interrupted by a nurse coming in.
“Oh you’re awake,” She scribbled something on her clipboard. “You’ll be transferred to a psychiatric hospital as soon as your condition stabilizes, do you want anything?”
He thought for a bit before shaking his head. She nodded then exited the room, leaving Wemmbu alone once again, just him and his thoughts. Now he’s going to be really behind Flame, it was going to take at least a week or two before he’ll get out for a suicide attempt right? Or maybe he could lie his way out like last time.
After three days he got transferred, at least he’ll finally be able to walk around. The hospital took way too many photos of all his cuts and made him change into the stupid blue gown. He tried calling Egg so he could get some decent clothes and maybe some products for his hair but they only allowed visits on certain days.
He made his way to his room, there was already someone else in it, probably his roommate. He opened the door, a white hair boy sat in the bed next to the window, Wemmbu dropped his stuff on the unoccupied bed.
“Hi! Did you just get here?”
The boy seemed way too cheerful to be in a hospital for the mentally ill, he smiled softly.
“Uhm, yeah.” He tried his best to be somewhat polite with his response, even though he was way too tired for all this.
“I’m Saparata, what about you?”
“Wemmbu.”
Saparata gave him another radiant smile, “well I’ll let you get settled.” The boy seemed to have gone back to folding paper stars.
There wasn’t really much to settle into, he was given the clothes he had when he got sent to the hospital, though it’s in the washing machine right now, the stupid blue gown he currently had on and nothing else.
“Can I ask how you’re so,” Wemmbu trailed off for a second, unsure of the word he was searching for, happy? No that wasn’t quite it, cheerful? That doesn’t—
“carefree?”
“Uh, I guess?”
“Well you can’t constantly look at life from a negative lens can you?”
“I mean…”
“You’ll get way better if you change your attitude. No offense.”
He stared at the other in shock, who was he to just say ‘change your attitude’ to him? It wasn’t that simple, Saparata should know that too, but then how was he able to just keep living his life as if he didn’t just do something so bad it got him in a mental facility?
Was that truly just the solution to his problems? To change how he viewed his life? It wasn’t like it’s sunshine and rainbows, but he decided it could be much worse.
He thought back to the competition with Flame, why did he want to win so badly? Like the other had pointed out, he still outskilled the rest of the students on the team, so what was the point of dwindling on a single loss rather than celebrating all his victories? He wasn’t sure, except for the fact that ever since he lost his title as the best he has been doubting himself and unable to focus. Beating Flame was the only way he could prove that what he had was skill and not years of luck that brought him to where he was. He just needed something to make the constant voice in the back of his head telling him that he wasn’t enough to subside, anything that’ll prove that voice wrong. Because he couldn’t bear it anymore, the comparison, the way he’s been slowly losing passion, the way he’ll probably not be able to even practice for a few months until he’s recovered all the blood he’s lost.
Could all this really be solved if he just tried to be more positive? He couldn’t tell. To be honest he couldn’t care, Wemmbu just hated everything he’s been feeling these past couple of months, he just wanted all this doubt and uncertainty to end. No matter what it takes for him to get to that point. He’ll make sure he doesn’t have to think back about the past anymore.
Wemmbu had to ask Egg if he could go out—which was absolutely ridiculous—at least his friend said yes. He slowly began making his way up the building, his legs ached from the lack of exercise lately. Three months have already passed since the incident, and it was February once more. Except this time it wouldn’t matter if he was first or not. The insecurities and self hatred still plagued his mind, though now he has newfound knowledge that will surely aid him.
When he finally reached the top of the building, he took in the view, the sunset and everything below, the wind grazing his face and the concrete beneath his feet. He stood on the edge of the building, staring at the horizon—
This time knowing that one way or another, this feeling will pass.