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Flame stood at the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly beneath him.
The wind tugged lightly at his clothes, carrying the faint hum that slipped from his lips into the open air. It wasn’t anything specific. Just a soft, absent melody, something to fill the silence as his gaze stayed fixed on the distance. He didn’t move much, just leaned slightly forward, like he was waiting for something or someone.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Uneven. Hesitant. A little too fast at first, before slowing down into something more careful. Almost unsure. They stopped a few steps away, the sound fading into the quiet as the wind picked up again, louder now, like it was trying to swallow the moment whole.
“Flame…?” Wemmbu’s voice came out softer than intended, almost fragile as it reached him.
“Yeah?” Flame turned, the hum cutting off as he shifted his attention. His eyes landed on Wemmbu immediately, scanning him without thinking, like he was trying to figure something out before a word was even said. There was no impatience in his expression. Just quiet curiosity, something calm and open.
Wemmbu stiffened slightly under the look. One of his hands stayed hidden behind his back, fingers tightening around the stems he held there. The flowers rustled faintly with the movement, the sound small but sharp in the silence between them. He hesitated, like the words he wanted were caught somewhere just out of reach, his weight shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.
For a moment, he said nothing. Just stood there, heart beating a little too fast, staring at Flame like he was trying to memorize him before something went wrong.
Wemmbu’s fingers tightened for a second before he finally brought his hand forward, the movement slow, almost hesitant, like he could still stop himself if he wanted to. The flowers came into view. Slightly crumpled at the edges from how tightly he’d been holding them, but still carefully picked, still deliberate. His face flushed a faint red as he held them out, his gaze dropping almost immediately after, unable to hold eye contact for more than a second.
“Flamefrags—Will.. will you go to prom with me..?” His voice wavered near the end, quieter than he meant it to be, like the words had lost their strength halfway through. His hand shook slightly, barely noticeable, but enough to make the petals tremble with him. He didn’t pull back, though. He stayed there, arm extended, waiting. Forcing himself to stay.
Flame froze. His eyes dropped to the roses, the bright color almost too sharp against everything else. For a moment, he didn’t react at all. No smile, no confusion, nothing. Just stillness. Like his mind hadn’t caught up yet, like he was trying to process something that didn’t quite fit. The silence stretched. Too long.
The wind filled the space between them again, louder now, brushing past them like it was trying to push the moment forward when neither of them would. Wemmbu felt it against his skin, cold and sharp, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when every second felt like it was pulling tighter around his chest. Flame’s grip shifted slightly at his side.
His expression changed. Just a little. Not enough to be obvious, but enough. Something uncertain flickered there, something almost conflicted, like he knew exactly what this meant and didn’t know what to do with it.
“…Wemmbu.”
“I have a girlfriend.” Flame’s voice was quiet. Not harsh. Steady. Careful, almost, like he was trying not to let the words land too hard. His hand came up, resting lightly against the flowers, gently pushing them down. Not rejecting them roughly, just lowering them, like he didn’t know where else to put them. But it was enough.
Wemmbu inhaled sharply, the sound catching in his throat as his fingers went slack. The stems slipped from his grip, falling from his hand and hitting the ground with a soft, hollow sound that felt louder than it should’ve. The petals scattered slightly on impact, red against the concrete.
“What..?” It came out thinner than he meant it to. He stared at Flame, eyes wide at first, like he hadn’t heard him right. Like if he just waited a second, the words would rearrange into something else. Something better. But they didn’t. They stayed exactly the same, settling heavier the longer they sat there. His expression shifted.
The shock didn’t disappear. It twisted. Tightened. His brows pulled together as his eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, not fully… just hurt trying to find somewhere to go. His jaw tensed, like he was holding something back, something that didn’t quite make it out.
“You—” He stopped. Swallowed. “You didn’t tell me.”
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t accusing, not fully. But it wasn’t soft either. It sat somewhere in between, uneven and unsteady, like the ground beneath him had shifted and he didn’t know how to stand on it anymore. Because that was the part that didn’t make sense. Not the rejection. Not even the answer. Just the fact that he hadn’t known.
“You’re my best friend. You have no reason to know.” Flame let out a quiet sigh as the words left him, his hand falling back to his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with it anymore. He didn’t mean for it to sound harsh. It wasn’t said with any edge, any intent to hurt. If anything, it was too calm. Too simple. Like it made sense.
Like it was obvious. Wemmbu went still. For a second, it didn’t even look like he reacted. His expression jus paused, like everything inside him had stalled at once. The wind brushed past again, tugging lightly at his clothes, but he didn’t move with it. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Best friend. The words settled slowly. Too slowly.
Because they didn’t hit all at once. they sank in piece by piece, dragging everything else down with them. Every moment, every look, every small thing he’d held onto without realizing it all of it shifting into something else. Something smaller. Something that suddenly didn’t mean what he thought it did. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
“…Right.” It came out quiet. Flat. Not agreeing. just repeating it back, like he needed to hear how it sounded out loud.
His gaze dropped, not to the flowers this time, but somewhere in between. Like he couldn’t decide what hurt more. Looking at them, or looking at Flame.
“Of course.” There was a faint, almost breath-like laugh under it, but it didn’t carry any humor. It just broke a little at the end, like it wasn’t meant to be there at all. He swallowed, hard, forcing his shoulders to stay steady even as something in his chest tightened.
“Why would I.” Not a question. Just something to fill the silence before it swallowed him whole.
Wemmbu’s breath hitched. It came out uneven, breaking apart as the first tear slipped down his face, then another, and another, until he couldn’t stop them anymore. He tried to hold it together. He really did. but it all came crashing down too fast, too sudden, like the words had knocked something loose inside him that wouldn’t stay contained.
He took a step back. Then another. His vision blurred, shoulders trembling as he shook his head slightly, like he was trying to undo what just happened, like he could take it all back if he moved far enough away from it. His foot came down on something soft. A quiet crush.
Wemmbu flinched, the sound barely registering through the ringing in his ears as he glanced down for half a second. The flowers, bent beneath his shoe, petals scattered and ruined. His chest tightened sharply at the sight, something twisting painfully before he forced himself to look away. And then he turned.
Running. Not fast at first. Just unsteady, stumbling steps. But it quickly broke into something desperate, something messy, as the sobs finally tore free from his throat. Loud. Uncontrolled. Each breath caught painfully as he tried to get away, anywhere but here.
“Wemmbu— Wait!” Flame stumbled forward, the words coming out too late, his hand reaching out instinctively even though Wemmbu was already too far. He stopped himself after a step, his gaze dropping as something caught his attention.
The flowers. Crushed against the ground. He hesitated. Then crouched slightly, his hand brushing against one of the stems. Pausing as he noticed the small card attached to it, edges slightly wrinkled. Carefully, he pulled it free, unfolding it with a faint crease. His eyes moved across the words.
Dear, Flamefrags. If you see this note… yay! I have a boyfriend. If not… it’s okay. I’m really nervous writing this. In four hours I’m going to ask you.
- Wemmbuuu <3
Flame went still. Completely. The noise of the wind, the city, everything around him faded into something distant and hollow as he stared down at the note, reading it again without meaning to. And again. Like maybe the words would change. Like maybe they’d mean something different the second time.
But they didn’t. His grip tightened slightly on the paper, careful not to tear it, even as something heavy settled in his chest. Something uncomfortable, something sharp that he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. Four hours. He swallowed. His head lifted slowly, eyes snapping toward the direction Wemmbu had run, the echo of his sobs still lingering faintly in the distance.
“…Wemmbu.” And then he moved. Not hesitating this time. Just pushing himself forward, steps quick and uneven at first before steadying as he followed after him, the note still clenched carefully in his hand like it suddenly meant more than it should’ve.
The lock clicked into place with a dull, final sound. Wemmbu barely made it into the bathroom stall before everything caught up to him, his hands fumbling for a second before he dropped down onto the closed lid. He pulled his legs up close to his chest, curling in on himself like he could make himself smaller. Like that would somehow make it hurt less. His breath came uneven, hitching in sharp, shaky pulls as he tried to quiet himself down.
It didn’t work. He pressed the back of his hand against his nose, wiping at it quickly before dragging his sleeve under his eyes, smearing the tears instead of getting rid of them. More just replaced them anyway, slipping down faster than he could keep up with. His shoulders shook, each breath catching harder than the last, like his chest wouldn’t let him take in enough air.
Of course he said no. The thought came in quietly at first. Then louder. Of course he did. It was Flame. Flamefrags. The tall, popular guy everyone liked being around. The one who fit so easily into every room, every crowd, like he belonged there without even trying. And Wemmbu Wemmbu just followed.
His breath broke again, a quiet sob slipping out before he could stop it. Of course he said no. Why wouldn’t he?
I can’t hate him because he can’t love me.
The thought slipped in between his sobs, quiet and broken, like it didn’t fully belong there but stayed anyway. Wemmbu pressed his fist tighter into his shirt, gripping the fabric like it was the only thing keeping him together, his knuckles whitening as another shaky breath tore through him. It hurt. God, it hurt so much.
But it wasn’t anger sitting in his chest. it was something worse. Something heavier. Because there was nothing to blame. Nothing to push away. Flame didn’t lie to him. Didn’t trick him. Didn’t lead him on on purpose. He just didn’t feel the same.
Wemmbu’s breath hitched again, sharper this time as another sob forced its way out, his head dropping forward against his knees. His shoulders shook harder now, the quiet space of the bathroom stall barely containing the sound of it.
“I can’t—” His voice cracked, cutting itself off before he could even finish the sentence. He squeezed his eyes shut, fresh tears slipping through anyway, his grip on his shirt tightening like he could rip the feeling out of himself if he held on hard enough.
Why did it still hurt if he understood? Why did it feel so unfair when it wasn’t? A small, broken sound left him, barely more than a breath as he tried to inhale again, but it caught halfway, turning into another quiet choke instead. He pressed his sleeve against his face again, uselessly trying to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop coming. Because understanding it didn’t change anything. It didn’t make the feeling go away. It didn’t make him love him any less.
I was never going to be the one for you.
The thought settled heavier this time, not sharp like before. Just tired. Like something he’d known all along but only now allowed himself to admit out loud. Wemmbu let out a shaky breath, his grip on his shirt loosening as the worst of the sobbing began to fade into quiet, uneven breaths.
And I knew that.
It wasn’t a realization. It was a confirmation. His head dipped slightly, eyes stinging as he pushed himself up from the toilet seat, his legs unsteady for a moment before he found his balance. He reached up, dragging his sleeve across his face again, wiping at his nose, his cheeks. Trying to erase the evidence even though the redness and swelling wouldn’t disappear that easily.
He pulled his hood up. It fell over his hair, shadowing his face just enough to hide the worst of it. Not completely. But enough. Enough that maybe no one would look too closely. Enough that maybe he wouldn’t have to explain anything.
Another quick wipe at his nose. Another breath, still not quite steady. Then he reached forward, fingers brushing against the cold metal lock before sliding it open with a soft click. The sound felt louder than it should’ve, echoing slightly in the otherwise quiet bathroom. For a second, he just stood there. Hand still on the door. Like stepping out would make it real. Like once he did, there was no going back to before.
Wemmbu swallowed, tightening his jaw slightly before pushing the stall door open anyway, forcing himself to move. Even if every part of him wanted to stay hidden just a little longer.
The flowers stayed behind on the rooftop. Left where they’d fallen. Crushed stems bent at awkward angles, petals torn loose and scattered across the rough gray surface. The wind picked at them gently, lifting a few at a time, carrying them across the concrete in slow, drifting movements before letting them fall again somewhere else. Red against gray. Too bright. Too soft for a place like that.
A few petals slipped over the edge of the rooftop entirely, disappearing into the open air, taken wherever the wind decided to bring them. There was no one left to notice. No one left to pick them up. Just silence. And the sky. The sunset stretched wide above it all, warm colors bleeding into each other. Gold fading into orange, then into soft streaks of pink and purple. It painted everything in a quiet glow, softening the edges of the world like nothing bad had happened there at all. Like nothing had been left behind. It was beautiful. Unfairly so.
Because somewhere below, someone was still crying. And up here, the world kept going like it didn’t matter.