Archive of Our Own

Children only cry when someone is on their side. 

When no one is around, when the darkness closes in on their small space in such a big world, when they are on their own, they are silent; they fight monsters the best they can: they hide under the blanket, close their eyes, and don't make a sound, knowing that talking won't help them. When no one is around, they are more likely to look around in confusion at the emptiness of unfamiliar faces than to start screaming and crying. 

When a child knows that someone will support him, lift him from the asphalt and kiss him on the forehead, telling him that everything is fine, then he will cry until dawn, clinging to his parent and clenching his fists. He will make a tragedy out of the slightest scratch from a paper, whining and screaming so loudly that everyone's eardrums will be knocked out. 

All children are like this. Even if they don't understand it yet. Flame knows this because where they live, the cries of children echo throughout the morning, then stop for a short nap, and then return at night. 

The screaming intensifies in the other room. The child bursts into tears for no apparent reason. Soon the door of that room creaks, and someone picks up this crying mass in their arms, probably rocking it and asking worriedly what happened. 

Flame doesn't care what happened. He frowns slightly at the way the sound irritates his ears, slouching slightly. 

The one who cries is Spoke. Flame is sure it's Spoke because he's the baby who wakes up first. He also cries all the time. He's very small, curious, and has very strong fingers. He Perpetually gets Flame dirty whenever they're in the same room, and it's more annoying than cute, although Mane laughs constantly. He can't talk yet, but he tries hard to imitate Flame; sometimes he feels like once Spoke learns to talk, he'll never shut up again. This is scary—considering his character, it wouldn't be a good acquisition to give him knowledge about speaking. 

Spoke is bad, though. Disgusting. He's licking everything he can reach, and that often ends up being Flame's things. Or his hands. Or toys. Everything that belongs to Flame somehow becomes marked by Spoke. 

Flame obviously doesn't like Spoke. 

The teachers tell him he should be gentler with him, but Flame doesn't know why. 

Even his parents didn't like him—they kicked him out, leaving him at the door of the orphanage; he already knows the cruelty of life, so why give him false hope? Eventually, he'll be kicked out of the orphanage, and he'll have to survive on his own. There won't be any teachers, and it's clear that there won't be Flame, who's supposed to be more gentle. 

This is stupid. Everyone at the orphanage is stupid—always telling him what to do and constantly underestimating him. They always consider him stupid, although they themselves don’t notice that they are all a hundred times stupider than him! 

He rises from the carpet, covering his ears. It's not as if the thin walls of the building are any thicker—he's sure he'll hear Spoke even from the highest mountain in the world. His head is already starting to hurt, which means he needs to get to his room as soon as possible. Because every time something like that happens, someone always finds time to bother him. Murphy's Law. Parrot told Wemmbu about it, and Wemmbu told him. Flame hates Murphy and his laws. 

He doesn't get more than a meter before he trips over some toy. He makes a quiet sound as his bare knees scrape across the wooden floor. 

Murphy's Law. Obviously.

Now his knees burn and ache. He carefully rolls over, hissing softly. His palms gingerly find the wounds and he bites his lip. Tears well up in his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away.

Only the weak cry. Flame knows this—Dada, when they still lived at home, taught him lessons. To have the right to cry, it has to be worth it. Crying over something small, like a scrape on his leg, won't make him stronger. It's not like he's home now. It's not like his father will ever see him like this: crying or not. But Flame can't be a weakling when they already have Wemmbu, who can barely tie his hair back into a ponytail.

He blows on the irritated skin. The pain subsides a little, and then returns with renewed vigor. Stupid knees. Stupid floor. Stupid—why did he fall, again? 

He forgets for a second about his burning knees, reaching lower, towards the presumably stuffed animal he tripped over. 

Flame runs his fingers through the soft fur of it. It is strange. He traces its outline, trying to figure out what kind of animal it is, and stumbles upon a button that should probably be an eye. Just one button. Irritation due to the fact that the toy ended up under his feet at the wrong time disappears. 

"You only have one eye?" He asks quietly, running his fingers down to his high nose. It's larger than a dog's or a cat's, smaller than a bear's. His fingers slide a little higher now, towards his ears—they come across two, too small to be the rabbit he had thought of earlier. 

Who could it be? Flame frowned again, running his fingers down to its tail. Small. Just like its ears—not at all fitting any description. 

"Is this your new friend?" Flame doesn't jump at all when someone gets behind him. No one here can walk too quietly for him to hear, and no one has yet learnt all the creaking floorboards, so it's Mane. Of course it's Mane!

He shakes his head. "Nope. I tripped over him and fell." Mane hums, presumably looking at his knees. Judging by his absence, he's gone looking for a first aid kit. "Who is it?" 

"Raccoon." 

"Rac—coon?" 

"Yea. He's like stinky thief. But I'm pretty much sure it should've had long tail," Mane quickly appears in front of him. Flame feels how he moves his legs slightly before drenching them. He purses his lips, still holding the toy. "Weird." 

"Such a weirdo." 

"Yea." Flame makes himself unclench his jaws and giggles. Mane runs something sticky and cool over his knees, the pain becomes less until he removes his hands and the cold air touches his skin. He exhales quietly, his ears pressed against his head.

They remain silent for a moment. Flame tries not to tear the toy in his hands, and Mane quickly finishes working on his legs. As soon as he finishes, he gets up and, walking towards the closet, asks: "Has Wemmbu been here for the last, umm...ten minutes?" 

"Nope. What's up?" He asks deliberately lazily, playing with the raccoon's small ears. They are soft, but there are threads coming out of them; too rough to be a real toy, which means someone has stitched it. 

"He's being cranky. Again." Flame hums.

Wemmbu is the same as Spoke. He cries all the time, too. Well, more accurately, Spoke doesn't even know how it affects others, but Wemmbu is very much aware. He won't cry in front of Flame unless the teacher or Mane is present, and he will definitely cry if Flame tripped him or something. Wemmbu is dumb, stupid, and always makes him, Flame, the one to blame for everything. And he doesn't even do anything most of the time! 

"Why do you need him anyway?" Flame doesn't hide the fact that he's frowning. He doesn't know why his mood is falling; he and Wemmbu are good friends from time to time, and they're not at odds right now, so he shouldn't feel that way. 

"We've to talk about something," Mane answers evasively. Mane usually always speaks directly, bluntly, sometimes in a weird way with incomprehensible allegories(Flame isn't sure what it is, but Parrot mentioned this word a couple of days ago) and words, but usually does not try to hide anything. And it's easy to tell when Mane is trying to hide something because he's not very good at it. Or Flame just knows him very, very well. 

Normally, Flame would have figured this out right away and started asking questions, interested. But now he... Doesn't want to. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter what dumb Wemmbu and silly Mane have in mind. It doesn't concern him. Not at all. 

The silence drags on, and Mane manages to return to him. "Have you talked with our teacher's grandson? He brought flowers today," Mane changes the subject easily, and Flame probably allows the conversation to flow in another direction. 

"Nuh uh." Mane huffs. "What kind of flowers grow in winter?" 

"I dunno. It was like origami?"

"And why bring flowers at all if they're not real?" 

"I dunno!" Flame turns his head with a very displeased expression on his face, and Mane chuckles. "Talk to him." 

"Why?" 

"I think you'll be friends." Flame knows this isn't true. Every kid he tried to befriend ended up laughing at him, fighting, and never talking again. And he doesn't want to try again, because it's stupid to expect something new from something you know never changes. "What is this face?" 

Flame turns away, turning his attention back to the toy. His tail, without his permission, twitches slightly.  "Nothing."

Mane just sighs. Apparently, he is not in the mood to pry anything out of him. It's for the best. Flame doesn't want to talk to him right now anyway. "Y'know you don't need to be so difficult all the time?" Mane sits next to him for another minute before realizing he won't answer and leaves. Only his presence vanishes; none of the floorboards creak. 

Flame purses his lips, curling his fingers around the toy. He feels the claws meet the fluff inside. 

He's not even trying to be difficult. He's not. He knows he's not, and he knows that Mane knows. Mane says this because he is tired, and... And it's just unfair! Mane forgives Wemmbu when he starts whining or acting stupid, but when it's Flame's turn, he immediately becomes difficult! Flame doesn't act stupid. And he doesn't cry just to be pitied. And Flame doesn't just steal the show whenever he wants. 

"It's unfair," He mutters under his breath, carefully trying to pull his claws out of the raccoon. Apparently it doesn't work because the threads follow it and it feels like the fluff is coming out too. He sighs in irritation, throwing the toy aside. "Stupid." 

They both always act like that. Both Wemmbu and Mane. As if Flame is the only one. As if everyone else is allowed to be upset, but he isn't. Or as if everything is fine, and he's the only one who gets upset. 

Flame hears the floorboards creak behind him. The person is very unsure and timid, because they pause after each creak, rustling their clothes. The irritation that had been building up somewhere in his chest was being transmitted further to his throat, which was being compressed by something. Wire or...something else. "What?" It comes out too angry and for no apparent reason; he can hear his growl and tries to hide it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," The voice turns out to be high-pitched. Flame hasn't heard such a character, and doesn't quite want to. "What are you doin' here?" 

"Nothing." 

The boy moves a little closer to him, and Flame feels the need to move away. Which he does. Why did he show up right now? Why can't he just leave? Can't he see he's not in the mood to chat?

"My name is Lomedy." 

"Cool." 

"Haha, you think so?" No. No, he doesn't. Flame cracks his knuckles, and this Lomedy doesn't pay much attention to it, reaching in some direction. "You found Fluffy!" Flame opens his mouth, then closes it again. Who is Fluffy? "It's my toy, raccoon." Did he say that out loud? No, probably not. "You kinda...cut through it. But no worries, I can patch it up!"

Flame is silent, digging his claws into his calves. His knees hurt enough, but he needs to somehow... Feel at ease. 

"My abu taught me. My granny, I mean," Lomedy giggles. 

Flame doesn't understand what Lomedy wants from him. He's not in the mood, he ruined his toy, he doesn't want to talk to him, and—

"You're a weirdo," He says much more quietly than he expected, slouching again. 

"Hey? Hello? I am absolutely not!"

"Yes, you are." 

"No, I'm not." 

Lomedy's voice is genuinely offended. But funny. As if he's surprised and stunned. Flame scoffs. "Yes, you are!" 

"Oh! It's rude! You—you broke my toy and now you call me weird!" Lomedy has a funny voice when he's angry; Flame can't help but smile. "What are you laughing at?" He hears him pout. 

"'Cause you're dumb." 

"You—You—Disrespect!" Flame laughs; it's quiet and a little hoarse, and it seems to irritate Lomedy even more. "Unbelievable. I'm gonna snitch on you." 

"You won't." 

Lomedy sighs, "Yea, I won't." 

Flame raises his eyebrows, and his expression subsides slightly. Usually, those who want to report him do so without a shred of hesitation. And this child, who's acting so strange, just agrees with him? Is he afraid or something? 

"Why?" There is a rustling sound from Lomedy's clothes and he probably shrugs. Flame makes a face. "You're such a weirdo. Everyone's gonna bully you if you're gonna act like that." 

"You think so?" Flame nods. "Well, I don't know. Everyone's nice here." He snorts. "What?" 

"It always seems that way at first." Lomedy hums with interest, asking him to continue, but Flame doesn’t say a word. If this is his, the teacher's kid's, first day here, then he'll let him live in his dreams. He'll get what Flame warned him about soon anyway. 

Not hearing a response from the other boy, Lomedy confidently declares: "I think you're just pessimistic." 

"Pessimistic?" 

"Grumpy." Flame clicks his tongue and nudges Lomedy's shoulder. They're much closer than he expected, and perhaps he is stronger than Lomedy expected. "Woah, you're strong!" He chuckles from the floor, and Flame can't help but smile proudly. "And cocky."

"The more ya talk, the less likely you are—"

"Flaaame!" Oh God. Not this. Not that squeaky voice of Wemmbu, definitely not that moment. 

"What?" 

"Where's my... um what's it called? For hair!" 

"Hairpins. How would I know?" Flame lazily turns towards the sound of that terrible, terrible voice. 

"Yea, hairpins, well, you took them yesterday."

Under what circumstances would Flame ever need hairpins anyways?

"I didn't. Loppezz did, and she returned them to your box." 

"But there's nothing in my box!" 

"Then I dunno." Lomedy leans slightly toward Flame, apparently seeing Wemmbu for the first time. How he envies him. "Ask Egg, maybe he has them." 

"I've already asked!" And now Wemmbu starts whining, bringing that same idiotic whining voice of his. 

"Parrot?" 

"Parrot, Parrot, Parrot.. Yea, maybe. I'll ask him," Wemmbu suddenly gets a jolt of energy, starting to walk toward what's probably the door. No thank you, no hello, no goodbye. Asshole. 

"Oh, and Mane was looking for you."

He stops mid-step. "No, he wasn't."

Flame hopes Wemmbu senses his displeasure from across the room. He hears him snort, and then he disappears as quickly as he appeared. Flame feels all his powers vanish before his eyes. 

"Who is that?" Lomedy asks quietly, apparently not particularly sure how far Wemmbu has gone. 

"It's, uhhh.. Wemmbu. My brother." 

"Oh. I also have a younger brother." Flame is very pleased that Lomedy considers him his elder. Because it's really unfair that Wemmbu is older than him, but acts like he's the youngest. "And a younger sister. Two, actually." 

"You have a big family," Lomedy giggles. Flame doesn't find it funny. "Why are you here then?" 

Lomedy is silent for a few seconds, apparently playing with Fluffy. What a trivial name. "I, umm. Y'know... it's hard to explain. It's hard for my parents to look after us all, and they don't trust me enough to help them, so they leave me with my granny. It's not that it's bad. She has a very nice house! And she has a cow. And small garden, and—" 

The first thing Flame learns about Lomedy is that he loves talking about the farm. About animals, flowers, and fruit. He's not very fond of vegetables, and he can't pronounce the word "tomatoes" correctly.

The second thing Flame realizes about Lomedy that day is that he's just like Spoke, which is to say, just like Wemmbu, and he likes to cling to people. At eight o'clock in the evening, a car arrives at the orphanage with a disgusting roar, and Lomedy announces that it is time for him to leave. He hugs every child in the room; he gets to Flame about five minutes later. 

Flame refuses, and this is not news. 

The news is that Lomedy isn't insisting. His tone changes slightly, but he doesn't make him to hug him, which is surprising in many ways. Either Lomedy is a jerk who's afraid of him, which strokes his ego, or he's just... nice. These two characteristics and their likelihood confuse Flame in every way. 

Flame doesn't care about Lomedy. 

He comes twice a week: each time at a different time, but leaves in the same car, whose engine is terribly loud, at the same time. He always brings some coloring books and toys with him, but at the end of the day he always takes them away.

He's a favorite with many kids: he's a great attention-getter, terrible at hide-and-seek, making him easy to find, has a funny laugh, and feels like he's fun to tease. Flame doesn't understand his charm. Lomedy constantly asks him to play with him, brings him sweets or other things he took from home. This is more annoying than attractive, but Flame rarely refuses. He doesn't really know why. Maybe he was brainwashed. 

Lomedy is weird, clumsy, and a bit silly. He giggles at stupid jokes and dreams of his own farm when he grows up. He doesn't like Spongs, his Grandma's neighbor, but he wants to make friends with another boy who seems to be Spongs's cousin or something. Flame doesn't really listen because, on top of everything else, Lomedy loves to talk. 

In fact, Lomedy only shuts up twice a day—when told to, and when he's sleeping. Well, Flame hasn't tested the latter and doesn't particularly want to ever. 

"I wonder if animals could understand us." Flame leans his head against the wall he's pressed against. Sometimes, even when he doesn't answer, the fool keeps talking—sometimes his chatter goes one ear and out the other, sometimes he's actually listening. Most likely, Lomedy doesn't even know the difference.

They were a little distant from all the children—not that there was a place where there really weren't children, but Lomedy, as a relative of a worker with a permit, can go anywhere, and for some reason always drags him along. They were sitting in some kind of teachers' room, and Flame wasn't trying to touch or understand anything, spending most of his time wandering in his thoughts. "Although if that is the case, it’s good that they can’t talk." 

"And why so?" 

Lomedy is silent for a few seconds, then exhales heavily and rustles his clothes. Flame hears footsteps on the carpet next. "Dunno. Just think so." 

"Makes sense." 

"Pff, yea?" 

"Actually, no. You're just talking some crap." Flame grins. 

Lomedy sulks at him for about half an hour. Unfortunately, this kid just can't sit without him for some reason, and Flame finds himself in the company at about four o'clock in the evening. 

Lomedy's favorite color is yellow. The color of the sun, sunflowers, gold, and autumn leaves before they fall. 

He said this somewhere in a hurry: during the relay race, when they were placed on the same “Yellow” team(although Flame doesn't like these types of games, he always does better alone). He was out of breath from running up and down the floors for some reason, breathing hard and fast, his heart beating so loud that Flame could hear it even though he was quite far away. 

Yellow. This color probably suits Lomedy—bright, endless, radiant, and nerve-wracking. 

He's here again. It feels like Lomedy is at an orphanage rather than his own house. He's already like one of the kids you're so close to, the kind you expect to run into in the morning. Luckily, he had never been here this early before. 

Flame plays with a liquid substance in a bowl. There's been a strange feeling in his stomach since this morning. Just a couple of minutes ago he was struggling to get this portion, but now that the adrenaline has subsided and he has calmed down, just the smell of this soup makes him sick. 

He knows he needs to eat. He usually has no problem doing so—he has quite the appetite—but this day is such a bad day for him.

Flame barely notices how one pair of legs separates from the background noise. 

"Hey Flame!" Lomedy flies up to him, his feet stomping on the floor. Flame turns his head towards him.

"What do you want now?" He asks, disinterestedly. 

"What's your favorite color?" 

This is an interesting question that everyone usually tries to avoid when talking to him. Everyone thinks he's forgotten colors or something, but no—everything in his head is clear, and he remembers! 

Although how does Lomedy know that he was not born blind? 

Flame frowns, clutching the spoon in his hand. "Red, I guess. Why you asking?" 

"Aw, don't worry about it!" Lomedy claps his hands, jumping up and down. "See you later Flame!" 

"What?"  

A week later, Lomedy brings him a friendship bracelet. He says it's intertwined with red, yellow, and orange—something about their symbol of friendship, or whatever it is. Flame says they're not friends. Lomedy insists that he take it anyway, even if not as pushy as before. 

Flame throws it somewhere under the bed, not really bothering to put it in the box of personal belongings. 

It's night time; the bathrooms are already occupied by everyone who could. Flame feels the toothpaste settle on his tongue with a disgusting bitterness, wincing at the sensation and quickly spitting it out. He longs for the sweet toothpastes one of the families once brought.

It's always loud here because no one ever wants to shut up before bed. Out of the corner of his ear, Flame hears someone say Lomedy's name. His ears perk up involuntarily as he tries to brush his teeth slower.

"He looks weird. Those ears on him drive me crazy. Isn't he like hare? He's super weird to be bunny. They're cute at least. But kinda, y'know. Stupid and noisy. Although how he assured us!" 

"Pfff, yeaa. He's kinda ugly too." 

"And whiny."

"What are you expecting from teacher's relative?" This guy is grinning, and for some reason their group of three is laughing loudly.

Flame doesn't know the difference between hares and rabbits. For him, this conversation isn't funny, it's stupid—what difference does it make what a person looks like? He snorts at the thought. Well, perhaps this matters to those who can see. 

"Man, I miss Zam's toothpastes..." Wemmbu mutters nearby. Flame agrees.

Flame doesn't get along with people. He just can't—either he's so special in their eyes, or they're all just brainless idiots. He is more inclined towards the second option; every single one of them in this building, in this room is stupid idiotic dumbass.

Laurence, or whatever his name is Flame does not care, pushed him down the stairs. In his words, it was extremely funny, and from the laughter that echoed throughout the stairs, it turned out that he wasn’t the only one. Flame wasn't having funny time at all, and since that was the case, he punched him—hard, right in the nose, with a satisfying crunch under the knuckles. There were whining sounds, then angry ones, coming from his direction, and, of course, a fight broke out. It's normal—almost every day ends in a fight, because this is Flame, FlameFrags.

Now his knuckles, head, lips and teeth ache. It's not that this boy is particularly good at fighting—it's just that the place was awkward, and Flame's weight is three times less than his!

"You're toothless." Wemmbu mumbles lazily. "Congratulations on felling out your another baby tooth. Although it may have been permanent," Flame runs his tongue over the rows of teeth: one is missing at the top, and one is missing very far back. He winces at the painful sensation. "You don't even look cool. You'll buy a gold tooth in the future and you'll be ugly." 

"So we're just saying anything right now." Wemmbu laughs. It's not as loud as usual, more because of the setting; he and Flame are sitting in one of the teachers' offices while Laurence is being dealt with in the hospital wing. 

Flame presses himself against the wall, feeling the cold of the office send shivers down his spine. He likes to fight. He likes to punch in the faces and asses of all the idiots who have the right to say anything about him or his brothers. It brings him sense of serenity, a sense of peace that soothes his nerves, makes his fists stop itching, makes the blood in his veins. Everything in his head immediately becomes quieter. 

It's a nice feeling in many parts. 

He doesn't mind even a sore body. Sometimes he's frightened by a sharp swing in the air, heavy footsteps, and the feeling of someone else's hands on him, but he's Flame! Rarely does anyone emerge from a fight with him in better condition than him!

"I'm hungry," Wemmbu whines, rocking back and forth on the crumbling chair again. "But I'm here. Stuck with your dumbass." 

"Ha? What did ya just say?" 

He scoffs, "I said that you're a dumbass!" 

Lomedy arrived just recently. Grandma's house is scary when it's empty and no one's there. Even though there are lots of animals there, which he loves very much, he still doesn't feel too well there because his grandfather is always somewhere in the worl and he doesn't really have time for him. So, Abu, after listening to him for less than a minute, simply told him to pack his backpack and go with her. 

And here he was! At first, he expected to meet Render or a few other guys he'd become good friends with; but today, everything in the building is too loud. Grandma took him by the hand into the office, telling him to sit there, and then Flame appeared next to him. 

He has a beaten look and pursed lips. He looks intimidating in the chair across from him. Sullen, disgruntled, and for some reason looking like he wanted to cry.  Lomedy doesn't know Flame, who wants to cry or has ever cried in his life. 

"What happened?" 

His ears are pressed to his head and his tail twitches dangerously from side to side. "None of your business." 

Lomedy blinks. Usually Flame answers more slowly, calmly, but now his shoulders even tensed up even more, as if he would scold him. Maybe it is a problem? "Y'know that I won't scold you, right?" 

"Pfft. As if you could, farmer's kid." 

"Bro." 

"What? What do you want?" 

Lomedy scratches his forearm. His foot taps the floor again and he tries to suppress the other one, which he does with varying success. "How was your day?" And Flame huffs—he usually doesn't really like to talk with him, so that's okay. Instead of asking again, Lomedy tries to relax in his chair: he clenches his palms, trying to calm his ragged breathing. Why is he even nervous? Flame is good! Flame is his friend and he haven't done anything wrong to him. So why is he being so stupid over nothing?

Lomedy sighs, leaning back. "Today the chickens attacked me when I went to get their eggs. I don't think they like me very much. And then the baby horse we have in foster care ate an apple out of my hand! She's sooooo cool!"

"Isn't her name Helios? Isn't it like... boy name?" 

"You're right... I don't really know? I should ask Abu," Lomedy swings his legs. "But anyways! Helios has like really cool mane, and cool white spots on his skin. And he's so sweet also!" 

Flame actually really likes horses. Turns out, horses’ teeth never stop growing, They communicate through their ears, can run immediately after birth, and have monocular vision!

"And they're also talking through their ears. Like, when their ears are facing forward that means they’re happy. And when they're flat, they're angry."

"Oooh! You know a lot about horses!" While Flame was talking about all the facts, his ears straightened up and his tail began to wag calmly, as happens on calm days. And, immediately after his words, he snorts. 

"Yeah. I guess I do." Smile reaches his lips but he doesn't let this happen. Lomedy tilts his head.

"That's cool. I can bring with me some horses like...toys, if you wanna." His ears rose and his tail seemed to stop. 

"Really?" 

"Sure! I have some but I don't really play with them."

"Well... I don't mind. I don't mind at all."

"I gotcha!"

The next time Lomedy comes, Flame still has a hole where his tooth should be and some slightly healed bruises. After he leaves, Flame finds himself with three toy horses: two very small ones, velvety and weighty, and one that barely fits in his hands and is very soft. 

Winter comes with shining sun, piles of snow and bone-chilling cold. They go outside less often, and when they do, they find themselves surrounded by huge piles of thick snowflakes. Flame doesn't like this kind of weather—warm clothes are thick, restrict his movements, irritate his skin and his mood.

He used to enjoy snowball fights back then because he was a total MVP at it, but now, trying to play the game is useless and almost pathetic. Wemmbu once persuaded him to try—it turned out that getting lost in the snow was quicker, and Flame couldn't pull himself together between the endless, crunching mass under his feet. After this time, they decided to pretend that they all hated winter. 

It's not that it's not true. The orphanage has a ton of cracks between the windows, the heating is weak, and the food and floors are cold. Because of the snowfall, the hot water was turned off a week ago, and they can only wash in cold water. 

Flame doesn't like winter. It makes him weak, vulnerable, and ill; and, as usual, he lies in a separate room, quarantined. His throat burns, his head aches, and, as Mane said, his temperature is higher than the sun. Unfortunately, Flame is not stupid and knows that he would have died already. Although it feels like he is close to it. 

He sniffles for the fifth time in the last thirty seconds. He hugs Fragger (the teddy bear he stole from Mane), holds him close, and really, really hopes this will end soon. Or he'll fall asleep. One of two. 

His nose itches, feels prickly. He fights the urge to scratch, sniffling again instead. 

Wemmbu fell asleep next to his bed, on the floor. He's perfectly healthy, but Flame is sure he'll get sick again. Dumbass. 

He always sneaks into the quarantine room at least once while Flame is sick. Maybe it's to hide from the teachers or the kids. Or maybe it's both. Maybe it's something else, but Flame doesn't quite understand. Wemmbu hates being sick, he always gets whiny(that's...actually just his personality) and talks too much. 

He's not that bad. Sure, he pisses him off seven days a week, he can't keep his mouth shut, they fight all the time, he constantly tags along with Egg and they always make fun of him, and he's just a dumb asshole who can't leave Flame alone, but... He is cool sometimes. 

He can understand him better than anyone else. He knows when games are going too far and stops unless they are in a fight, he knows when things are getting too loud and heavy for him and he knows when to shut up and when to start talking. He was there every day after the incident, following him around, helping him find every staircase and corner in the orphanage. 

And now he is here. 

"Are you sleeping?" Wemmbu asks. His voice is hoarse and lazy. Flame pulls Fragger closer. "So what that means buddy." 

"I don't wanna talk to you." 

Wemmbu gasps, "Bro!" Flame giggles. 

For a second, everything becomes quiet again. From behind the door, he can hear children screaming and all the usual pre-lunchtime chores? It must be lunchtime. Flame doesn't really know. 

Being with Wemmbu isn't so bad when he keeps his mouth shut. 

He rises from the floor with a tired sigh, adjusting Flame's blanket and poking him on the cheek. "I'll go for a walk. It's impossible to sit with you for so long." 

"You're stupid," Wemmbu snickers. 

"I'll bring something to eat. Probably. Not a promise."

"Just go awaaaaaay!"

Flame and Wemmbu don't get along most of the time. Sometimes he feels like they can never be friends for that very reason. But maybe they can't be friends, being brothers. 

He's not the coolest older brother in the world. He's only second. But even that's too much for him and his ego.

Flame still squeezes his hand out of habit when he falls asleep with a high fever later that day. 

When Flame next wakes up, his throat is terribly dry and he wants to cry from how cold he is. He shrinks, his tail wraps around his knee, and he whines into his pillow, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. His head is splitting as if someone is hitting it with a hammer from the inside, his face is burning painfully for no reason, and his whole body is freezing. He gropes around on the mattress, trying to find Wemmbu's hand, but nothing appears, and he feels tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"Oh, Flame? How are you feeling?" The voice isn't Wemmbu's at all. It's Lomedy. What was that stupid Lomedy doing by his bed? He makes a disgruntled sound, hoping that Lomedy will leave and bring someone else. "Sorry, I know this sucks... Wemmbu is really sleepy, and he asked me to be with you for a bit. Do you wanna drink something?" Flame purses his lips and nods hesitantly, trying to get out of bed. His limbs don't move properly, his nose is running and he's sniffling. "Slow down, slow down. Just—Drink, okay?" 

Lomedy lifts the cup to his mouth, and Flame sips the hot tea with its disgustingly sweet honey, but doesn't complain. His throat warms up, becoming slightly less painful, and he drinks the entire cup. Tears are still streaming down his face, and when Lomedy moves away from him, he wearily wipes them away with his sleeves.

"Do you want Mane?" He asks softly, and Flame nods without any other thought. "He'll be there in a second!" He purses his lips, placing his palms on his ears, which were already pressed to his head. "I'm too loud? Sorry," He says quieter than before and helps Flame lie down just like before. 

Flame feels how wet the pillow is from sweat and tears and whines again. "You're not comfy?" He shakes his head. "Is it your pillow?" He nods. "Aw. Okay, lemme just.." Lomedy helps him to sit up again and grab onto some toy while he does something with the pillow. Then he helps him lie down once again. The pillow is at first pleasantly cool on his skin, and then terribly cold.

He lets out a snarl, "It's okay, it'll be warm really soon. Don't worry," Lomedy mumbles, throwing another blanket over him. "It's almost evening, and my dad is gonna pick me up soon." He says as the proverbs creak and he probably sits down on the floor. "So I'm not there for long." 

"Thankfully."

"So, that's not nice Flame," Lomedy still giggles. 

And then Lomedy starts chatting, because this is his second job. And, well, Flame lets his chatter fly through his ears until he falls asleep. 

The next time he wakes up is when the floorboards creak again. He runs his hand over the blanket.

"Hey cub," Mane says. Flame's ears perk up the second he hears his voice and he hums, squeezing his hand. "You want my hand? Of course you want my hand, lil guy," His big brother chuckles but Flame quickly feels his palm. It's warm, almost hot, and he reaches out to him with his other hand. "Nuh-uh." He whines and Mane huffs. "Okay, whatever..." 

Flame doesn't calm down until Mane hugs him.

Flame recovers a week later. He feels much better, although his nose still runs and his body feels a little heavier than usual.  

He doesn't go outside for walks for the same reasons. This is a good feeling, because most of the kids are tumbling out the door; being alone is much more fun than with these bumheads. He enjoys his solitude for about five days at a time, reading books, sometimes sitting with younger children and listening to older ones tell stories. 

At some point, he gets tired of it anyway. It's not like Flame doesn't have friends or anything, but he's just... bored. 

He is playing with his horses when he realizes that Lomedy has not come for over a week. 

This is weird. Lomedy had been absent for more than a week before, not even coming for a month, but this feeling gives off some kind of anxiety and pressure in the chest. It's a strange feeling, but essentially, Lomedy is... nobody to him. He's just a guy who comes and drags him to play with him. He should be glad he's not around, because his days would be even more miserable. 

He finds himself bored when he opens another book (actually, he reads the same stories over and over again because there aren't too many books in Braille). He gets bored when Loppez and Wemmbu start another useless argument, he falls asleep to the sound of Egg hesitantly reciting syllables from a book, and he doesn't even get into fights. For some reason, everyone keeps asking him where Lomedy is hanging out (for example, Render, the boy he has a beef with), and Flame feels a stupid wave of melancholy about it. 

He feels exactly the same way as Wemmbu did when they tried to place Egg with a family. 

This can't be that, right?

Flame can't miss Lomedy. He's not even his friend. 

Although when he said this to Mane, he only chuckled. And when Wemmbu heard this, he immediately went to Egg, and when Parrot heard this, he decided to read them a book about friendship and a silly guy who couldn't understand it.

Flame thinks that they're all stupid.

The next time someone calls Lomedy's name in a bad way, Flame doesn't wait long to start a fight. His tail and knuckles hurt, he has a lot of bruises again. It feels exactly the same as it did with Mane and Wemmbu: rage boiling in the blood, fangs digging into lips, and apologies that shouldn't be flying in his direction. 

Spring clean doesn't happen often, but timely. They have to tidy up their rooms and—even though a cleaner usually handles this—wash the floors. Flame crawls under the bed, dragging out his belongings: an empty water bottle, old sneakers he hadn't wanted to throw away, photographs (which Wemmbu immediately claimed), and just plain trash that went straight into the bin. His palms slide over the sneakers, feeling the rough, old material, before he pushes his hands inside, feeling... something. 

Bracelet. He takes it out hesitantly, feeling the texture. Where did he get it? 

"What's that lil thingy?" Wemmbu asks curiously, throwing something else into the trash bag. 

"I dunno. What's color is that?" 

"Yellow-red thingy. It looks...kinda bad, not gonna lie." 

"Lomedy made that for me a while ago," Flame mumbles and Wemmbu hums indifferently.

Flame puts the bracelet on his wrist and returns to cleaning. 

Maybe Flame misses Lomedy.

Lomedy arrives on a Friday in March. The sun warmed the floors, streaming through the windows, Spoke clung to him, Wemmbu disappeared in an unknown direction, and Flame was left to babysit.

They're sitting on the floor in the nursery while Spoke rolls some toy cars or whatever it is. He's making some weird noises, constantly tugging at Flame's arm, as if something important is happening. He took off Flame's blindfold, doing with it whatever.

"What do you even want from me?" Spoke mumbles something stupid, and Flame just sighs. Essentially, a baby home is a separate organization from an orphanage, yet for some reason they're housed in the same building. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't make sense at all that other children are forced to sit with babies. Especially Flame. Like, what he's even gonna do if Spoke does something and he just couldn't keep track of him? 

Spoke climbs hesitantly towards him, clinging to his sweater with his hands. "Up!" 

"Oh my god bro." 

Flame carefully places his hand, pushing himself up and lifting Spoke into his arms. The baby giggles, clinging to his shoulder, drooling all over his clothes. As usual. 

The playroom door opens with a soft creak, and his ears perk up. "Hi?" 

"Hi Flame!" Lomedy says cheerfully, walking towards them. "What's up?" 

Flame's heart sank, and then beats so freely and calmly, as it had not in the two months that he had been gone. He lifts one arm, not entirely sure where Lomedy left off, and his friend chuckles, taking his hand. 

"I'm—babysitting... And I'm good. Where have you been bro?" 

"Aw, ya know. I couldn’t go to Abu for a while," he says without any details.

Oh. 

Spoke grumbles, hitting Flame on the shoulder, and he tsks. "Stop it."

"He probably wants to sleep?" Lomedy asks unsurely, and Flame shrugs, handing Spoke over to Lomedy. "Hii! Ouch? What was that, lil guy? Did you just took a bite of my nose?" 

"Gross." 

"It is!" He chuckles.

For some reason, Flame's heart fills with confidence, warmth, the taste in his mouth becomes sweeter, and everything becomes soft as before. 

Flame feels himself smiling, and most likely, Lomedy doesn't even notice, chatting with Spoke. It's probably for the best. Or he'll be too smug. 

Spending time with Lomedy is fun. More fun than alone and much better than with anyone else. He doesn't interrupt, lets him think, loves to tease, and still gets funny angry when Flame does the same to him. He reads him books that are too stupid for older people, and ones that Egg doesn't like to read; they go outside when the snow has almost soaked into the ground, and Flame laughs like he hadn't in a long time.

Summer is Flame's favorite time of year. He enjoys hot, sunny days, when the heat settles on his shoulders like a soothing weight; a warm breeze, or the lack thereof, is pleasant. The heavy air can sometimes be unnerving, but overall, this kind of weather suits him.

Today is one of Flame's nice days. The sun isn't blazing in the shade, and there's a soft waft blowing through the trees. They are sitting on a bench near a tree, sheltering from the sun's rays. Lomedy is silent most of the day because, as he said, this weather makes him tired and lazy. Flame, on the other hand, was quite pleased; his head was quiet, the calm had been building brick by brick since the climb. He even smiled, playing with Spoke before they arrived. 

Volunteers. Not only them, but also people who want to adopt someone. Flame doesn't like them—neither the first nor the second. He constantly has to pretend that he is not who he is because Wemmbu really doesn't like the orphanage and he wants to get a new family. Wemmbu always acts calmer and nicer when such people appear; he immediately becomes more tolerant, patient, and, in general, a miracle child. And people like him—they definitely like him that way. A couple of times the papers were almost signed, but each time it ended with him crying because they couldn’t take Mane and Flame either. 

"Y'know that nobody wants three kids in the house, and you just have to deal with it, right?" Flame muttered on one of those days. Wemmbu was holding in his hands some picture book that Parrot had recommended to him, and was not particularly paying attention to what was happening, turning the pages every two seconds. However, his reading speed suddenly dropped. The page never turned. Silence reigned in the room. 

"I wish someone wanted to take at least two of us." 

Flame doubts he was ever one of those two. 

They pretended they never talked about this. 

"What do you think about Zam?" Flame asks curiously. Lomedy gives a very understandable expression of incomprehension. "The girl with the loud voice. Wemmbu's friend?"

"Oohh. She's nice. I've never seen sirens before." Flame raises an eyebrow.

A few seconds pass. Sometimes he wonders if Lomedy is simply ignoring him or if he genuinely isn't looking at him at times like these. "Sirens?" 

"Um. Little Mermaid. You know that one?" Flame nods. "Sirens are like Ariel sorta. But like... I don't know how their tails work. And gills. Although I don't really remember what gills are." 

"It's like... lungs for fish." 

"Yep. These things." He nods again, aiming for the bowl. A saccular berry with some kind of fur on top appears between his fingers. He winces. Raspberries are the worst, but Lomedy doesn't like it when he picks them up and doesn't eat them himself, so he shoves it in his mouth anyway. "Why you asking about her?" 

"Y'know... Her family loves us." His voice sounds much less confident than when he thought about it. "I overheard that they are determi—determ—" He clicks his tongue in irritation, and Lomedy giggles. He pokes him in the shoulder. "They wanna adopt us."

"Oh, congrats!" Lomedy leans over, jingling some accessories. "You don't seem too happy?"

"Mhm."

"Why?" 

"I don't... I mean. I do like her. And her parents are nice to us. And they even ready to take all three of us. But I—I dunno. I don't mind to leave, but I just... It's so weird." Lomedy leans toward his shoulder, brushing his head with his terribly long ears. "What if they're pretending? What if they don't like us?" He mumbles uncertainly. "What if they like Mane and Wemmbu, but not me?"

"I think you think too much. They already like you. Why should they stop?" 

Flame thinks about it for just a second. They'd never gone that far with all the potential parents—the whole idea of being in someone else's home, supposedly his own, had only started to scare him a couple of weeks ago. Usually people wanted to adopt one or just two of them, which is why such deals ended quickly and fruitlessly, and this is the first time they have... a real chance. He runs his finger uncertainly over the bracelet on his hand. "Well. If I do something wrong?" 

"You can't do something wrong. You're Flame. FlameFrags, the coolest guy in the world!" He feels Lomedy smile as he shifts position again and rises from his shoulder. "The main thing is that you like them. And they'll take the three of you. And they love you all." 

"Um... I guess." Flame frowns. "But I don't think that... Isn't Wemmbu like pretending?" 

"I don't think he's pretending. He's all cocky and just...Wemmbu around 'em." Lomedy hands him another berry. Round, full of water, and almost large—grapes. Lately, they've been extremely sour, so Flame grimaces slightly, but still doesn't refuse. 

This family isn't a bad one. They've been coming for months now, and although Zam and Wemmbu don't seem to get along, they have a pretty good relationship. Flame knows how rich they are just by the smell of Mrs.'s perfume and the feel of the fabric of Zam's clothes. 

They brought gifts several times: balls for games, board games, some pairs of new clothes. But, most importantly, once or twice Mister gave gifts not only to everyone, but exclusively to him, Flame, the problem child. And Zam herself loves to give gifts: even this bracelet on his hand was made by her, and both Wemmbu and Mane have the same ones. 

They are nice. They have never been offended by his silence or, conversely, his restless conversations, and they haven't even gotten angry when he gets very upset and aggressive. They're not bad people, Flame knows it. That's probably what worries him most—could his behavior make them bad? Could he upset them so much that they'd stop pretending? Either they are not pretending, or they are pretending— Flame does not know this, and cannot know until a certain time. 

The worst thing is ignorance. Flame doubts he can truly understand them before it's too late. 

"Does Mane like them?" Lomedy asks lazily.

"I guess so." Mane relaxes around them; he laughs three times louder, and is being more open. Silly even. It's not that he's particularly smart—he usually tries to hide it until the time is right. So, yes, Mane definitely likes them. 

"Then you really are making things up. He doesn't like um... well, everyone. So, they must be very cool and trustworthy, don't you think so?" Flame tilts his head to the side, humming. Yeah, he definitely has a point, and who is Flame to distrust Mane? "I'm sure they're gonna love you." 

"Well, maybe they won't even adopt us." 

"Pfft. Nobody's gonna spending so much time with you without adopting you." 

"You're doin' that right now bro." 

"What?? I'm your friend, I'm not gonna adopt you!" 

Six months pass too slowly. An endless, rainy autumn, when Flame is forced to wear hideous turtlenecks, and the beginning of winter—just as bad as always. 

The adoption process isn't over yet; Zam talked about it for a long time(she's quite the chatterbox), but Flame didn't understand much and didn't want to go into details. The main thing: it's time to pack. They're coming to them for a sort of temporary stay and may end up staying with them. 

Packing is harder than it looks. He doesn't have many things, but it's hard to fit them into the suitcase Mrs. bought him. It's not because he's small, but because he always forgets where he put something and has to scurry around all over the bed and under it to find it. 

Lomedy sitting or lying on his bed doesn't help much. 

"Can you help me and stop doing nothing?" 

"Sure!" 

That was surprisingly...fast. 

"What's up with you?" 

Lomedy doesn't answer for a moment. He rustles his clothes, folding them with the others, and does so ridiculously quickly, as if he'd been waiting for his request. Finally, when Flame elbows him, he answers. "What's up with me?" 

"Bro." 

Lomedy giggles, "Sorry. I'm just—I don't know. It's really weird that you're leaving." Well, he's definitely right. It's true, and surprising, and strange, and so incomprehensible that it's even frightening. He doesn't go there alone, but with everything going on and Mane and Wemmbu in their heads, it feels like he only has few things on his side. 

He should be happy. After all, family is what they've dreamed of for so long. 

"You feelin' good?" 

"Honestly, I don't even know." Flame feels the claws digging into his clothes again, and luckily, Lomedy notices it too. "I don't think I want to talk about it." The room isn't empty at all. Flame knows there are other children still sleeping or lying in the other beds, and he definitely doesn't want to cry in front of them. 

It's not that he wants to cry at all. Of course not. 

"It's okay," Lomedy says with confidence. "We can talk about this later. Lemme help you." 

He fills his suit case for him.  

Lomedy leaves first then, exactly at 3 o'clock, which usually never happens. Flame hugs him so tightly that he thinks his claws might rip his clothes. 

"Papa is waiting for me," Lomedy smiles, and Flame still doesn't want to let him go. "I'll see you later." 

"Sure," He mumbles quietly. He forces his palms to unclench and lets go, taking a step back. He knows that they will meet again; of course, Mrs. And Mr. will allow him and find a way. Of course it will happen. 

Lomedy stands still, motionless. Not a sound can be heard from him. And then she comes up to him again, hugging him, "It'll be great! They will love you. You'll be okay. Aaaaand we'll talk about it later!" He hears the smile in his voice and he takes another step back. "Bye Flame!" 

"Bye Lomedy."