Did You Get Enough Love, My Little Dove? (Why Do You Cry?)

Lvg jug wujscds br zmbivr. Bx oswvj.

“You ready to lose, bro?” Flame asked, smirking at him.

Wemmbu grinned.

“Nah, I’d win.”

He had to win. For Rejoice. He said he wanted to see Wemmbu beat Flame. And Wemmbu was determined to do just that.

Or, Wemmbu and Flame are d1 collage swimmers, their rivalry being most of Wemmbu’s worries. Or at least until Rejoice gets sick.

You don’t have to understand swimming to read this

Notes:

,,,yes I know it’s been almost a month since I posted pt2,,,

IN MY DEFENSE I LITERALLY WENT HALF BLIND OVERNIGHT (and my mental health shot itself again that too) (help help me help)

SO with that BEING SAID. If you see any spelling mistakes past the like 7K mark NO YOU DONT I WROTE MOST OF THIS EITH ONE EYE BRO. (I can see now btw) (ao3 curse got me again guys)

There are some HUGE hints for what’s happening in this part, and I chose every song for a reason,,,

READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING!!! I cannot stress this enough, this is a heavier fic! Please stay safe guys <3

⚠️⚠️mandatory yap session sorry

This is part 3/4 for this series, if all 4 parts aren’t out, or you just don’t want to read all 4, then you will have no confusion. If you do wish to read all 4, I recommend reading in order, and you’re at part 3!1!1!

mandatory yap session over⚠️⚠️

Also I’m sorry if this is ooc, I tried not to be but idk,,, I think Egg is prolly ooc just because I’m not that funny bro 😭😭😭

SOME SMALL EXPLNATIONS!!!
Ok so since I am assuming most of you are not swimmers, here are some slight explanations.
A 1650 is a mile, a sprint race is anything under a 500, and anything over is a distance race. I talk about the 400 IM a lot, just know it’s a very hard race. I think that’s it! Lmk if there’s any confusion, I’ll add it here

Also I think it’s kind of obvious in this fic that I, the author, am a distance swimmer. THE DIRECTORS HATE US I SWEAR I SWEAR I SW—

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“A defence against this is to be found only in the knowledge of right and wrong, what is just and what is unjust, since no one does wrong intentionally and with his eyes open.” - Plato's Gorgias

_____________

A sunflower field.

Or is it?

Can he even tell anymore?

The hum.

It continues.

It’s deafening.

A boy.

Tired eyes.

Still smiling.

At him.

Always at him.

The boy is crying.

Why is he here?

Always here.

What is here?

The boy hugs him.

…

A skyscraper.

Or he thinks.

It’s hard to tell.

The sun is setting.

Or maybe it isn’t.

Maybe it is merely wallowing away in hunger.

Desperation.

Maybe it is dying.

The boy is next to him, he’s giving him a hair clip.

The boy thinks he would like hyacinths.

Purple ones.

He thinks he’s right.

…

Sitting in his chair, at his desk, is the boy.

Smiling.

Always smiling.

Or, or maybe it’s someone else.

Someone is spinning in his chair.

Not the boy.

Different.

Glitching, back and forth, between the two.

They both smile at him, with so much affection, so much love.

He doesn’t know them.

He thinks he wants to remember them.

He thinks he wants to remember a lot of things.

…

We’ve both been very brave, walk around with bowed legs. Wait for the scary day, we both pull the tricks out of our sleeves.

__________

If one was to witness the creation of something such as myself, they might wallow in fear, shrink away and let me feed off them.

If the witness was normal, that is.

I do remember, the stars that lit up in his eyes.

The stars as the sky crumples.

He seems to look away from me, towards the fall.

Towards the end.

The trees, they uproot themselves, screaming.

Louder.

Ever louder.

The trees, they scream.

The grass, it sobs.

The wind, it is silent.

The ground, it cries in hunger.

And the sun.

Oh, the sun.

The sun is mine.

Oh, isn’t this wonderful, my dear reader?

Oh, aren’t we having fun now?

Watching his face?

His face, as he realizes.

His face, as he comes to terms with I.

I, whom he has created.

As the world collapses around us, he laughs.

And I, I smile.

He is still holding it.

Still holding my very lifeline.

He could stop this.

But I know very well, he will not.

He holds his hands up to the sky as the earth shrikes open, and he falls.

And I, I am free.

The fabric of time itself will bend and fold to my will.

And I can only think, to him, to my creator, my eyes, my will, my everything.

Oh, what have you done?

Are you ready to face the consequences of your actions?

__________

Wemmbu felt like he was dying.

Quite literally.

His lungs were collapsing in on themselves, and every breath he took felt like a reward. His muscles burned, his mind wanting nothing more than to slow down.

He only narrows his eyes more in his goggles and continues to push his body past its limit.

The water rushes past his ears, the sound of his own breathing only being heard when he turned his head to breath, the sound of the crowd only being heard when he takes a breath.

He is coming up on the wall again, and he can see the lap counter get put in the water ahead. Lap 64. Almost done.

His counter (who is best friend, Eggchan) doesn’t shake the plastic board, so Wemmbu knows he’s making good pace. Probably not fast enough for a personal record, but you win some, you lose some.

He reaches the wall and flips, pushing off the wall and into a streamline.

Wemmbu may or may not have purposefully splashed Egg.

“No breathing off the wall!” He can almost hear his coach— MinuteTech— say, and while he knows the guy is right, Wemmbu is really tired and breathing is a basic human right.

Or, at least until you join a swim team.

As soon as he stepped foot onto a club swim team all those years ago, he lost his right to breath.

“Wemmbu bro, if I see you breathe more than once on this 50, you’re giving me 50 pushups.”

“I have to breathe to survive!"

“Not when you're a swimmer.” His old coach says. “You live off of pure chlorine now. Breath it in, buddy.”

…

He doesn’t breathe off the wall.

And immediately regrets it.

His lungs scream as he forces himself to wait, counting 3 strokes in his head before finally breathing.

He can see his competitors next to him, and while he is in front, it’s not by all that much.

So he kicks it into gear.

He hears the sound of the water being disturbed as he kicks his feet faster than before, once again kicking his legs over his head to flip as he comes up to the wall again.

“Remember Wem, all-out sprint the last 4 laps.”

Because, while all of the other competitors slow down near the end, tiring too much to keep pace, Wemmbu only speeds up.

Negative splitting, is what it’s called.

He goes faster in the last half of an event than the first half.

Flame’s coach, Itz, calls the phenomenon ‘The Zone’, but Wemmbu just calls it locking in.

It truly is an odd feeling.

It’s like his body regains all lost energy from the first half right in the middle of the race. His muscles become less sore, his breathing more even, and by that point, he’s able to zone out for the rest of the race.

The lap counter is in the water again, but this time, 2 red squares meet his eyes instead of numbers.

Only one length left.

He flips, streamlines, and gives the last 25 everything he has.

Wemmbu’s breaths sound more like wheezes at this point, but he can see himself pull far in front of the other swimmers.

So he ignores the pain in his legs and kicks harder than before, hitting the wall at full speed before he knows it.

As soon as his head snaps up and out of the water, he’s turning to look at the board.

EVENT 53: MENS 18&O 1650 FREESTYLE, HEAT 2/2

Place Lane Swimmer Team Time

1 …

2 …

3 …

1 4 Wemmbu… UU 14:39.23

5 …

6 …

7 …

8 …

He doesn’t pay attention to anyone else's name, only knowing he’s got at least another 10 seconds before lane 3 finishes.

What bothered him, though, was his time.

Adding 9 seconds was not what he wanted to see.

He’s 100% had worse adds before, but it still sucked.

Especially because he hasn’t dropped time in a single event all season, while his rival, Flame, has been dropping time like flies.

The guy was less than a second faster than him in the 400 IM.

That was Wemmbu’s event.

Not Flame’s.

…

…At least he still has the mile. Which was what he just swam.

He grimaces at the thought of Flame beating him as he takes off his cap and goggles, sinking underwater and letting the water rush through his long hair.

That, that right there is the best part of swimming. Ask any swimmer, they’ll tell you it’s true.

The whistle blows, three short whistles, signaling the next event of swimmers to get ready.

It’s just the women's 1650, and after that, the meet is over. Whoever decided to make the mile the last event on the last day of the meet needs to be shot dead.

A longer whistle sounds, and the next heat gets on the blocks. He looks over to Rejoice, who was handing the timer off to whoever was timing the girl in the next heat.

The boy looks at him and grins, giving him a thumbs up.

You’d think, that at his level, they’d provide timers for the distance events. But nooo, the meet coordinators just genuinely hate distance swimmers.

“All the other events get timers!” He whined, waiting behind the block.

“You can complain all you want later bro, just please lock in for once.”

…

“Swimmers, take your mark!” Comes the voice of an official, a beep shortly following, and the swimmers explode off the block.

Wemmbu pulls himself out of the water, panting, and feeling like he just might collapse at any second.

…

He can’t wait to swim again.

…

“Wemmbu! That was amazing! You did so good!” Rejoice exclaimed, handing him his towel.

“Thank you,” he replies, taking the towel and wringing out his hair.

“Hey, good job Wemmbu.” Minute says, and shows him his splits, which are basically what he went in each lap.

“Pick it up a little earlier next time, you slowed down around here.” The man continues, using his pen to point at some of the times on the paper.

He looks, breathing out as he looks at how much slower he was around lap 20.

No wonder he added 9 seconds.

“I’ll work on it.” Wemmbu says, turning to walk away, back to his bag.

He wanted to change and get back to his dorm as soon as possible. He has practice the next morning, and he wants to get as much sleep as possible.

4 am will come very fast.

But 3 am will come faster.

Flame and getting up an hour early to get extra practice in.

It still ticks him off that he was roommates with Flame Frags. Out of all people it had to be him. He had tried to get his room changed in his freshman year, but it failed.

So, he’s been stuck with his greatest rival for 2 and a half years.

Great.

Wemmbu grabs his bag from the bleachers and heads to the locker room, stuffing his cap and goggles in the front pocket as he walks.

He walks into the locker room, ignoring the other guys laughing and throwing around some moldy fry they found on the floor.

It smelled like piss.

He quickly changes and gets out of the locker room as fast as he can, gagging the whole time.

Do these guys have no sense of hygiene?

Wemmbu thinks as he exits the pool building and walks through the parking lot back to his car, which he collapses in as soon as he sits down, resting his head on the wheel for a few minutes before starting to drive back to the dorm rooms.

Flame had left the meet a few hours ago, as he is usually done much earlier than him. Because he didn’t have the misfortune of being a distance swimmer.

Wemmbu will forever complain about that.

His phone dings, and he checks it as he stops at a red light.

Eggy (✿◠‿◠):

Yo good job today

Thanks bro

Im driving hold on

He turns his phone off as the light turns green, continuing on his way. After a few more minutes, he pulls into the parking lot, turning his car off and getting out.

Wemmbu walks up the stairs, not trusting the elevator enough to use it.

It would 100% break.

He’s not scared of elevators.

Nope.

Not at all.

…

...

~~“Wemmbu… oh my god Wemmbu there’s literally an elevator right next to the stairs!” He giggled, face red from laughing too hard.~~

~~It was his turn to stare at the other.~~

~~“You’re kidding. You’re actually kidding.”~~

…

Pain shoots through his head, and he grimaces a bit before ignoring it.

Wemmbu sighs as he rummages in his pocket for his keys, unlocking the door to his dorm room.

The lights are on and he can hear the tv playing from the living room, which is really the same room as the kitchen.

So it was technically the room he was in, and Wemmbu is a liar.

“Hey bro.” Flame greets him as he sets his bag down on the table.

He just sighs in response, walking over to the couch and sitting next to Flame.

“Sooo,” Flame starts, not getting the hint that Wemmbu did not want to speak to him. “How bad did you lose?”

“I won. By 10 seconds.” He replies, narrowing his eyes at the other man and throwing a pillow at him.

Flame yelps and throws the pillow right back at him, hitting him in the face.

“Awhhh, Wemmbu’s first win!” Flame grins, earning a punch in the shoulder.

“Bro this sport isn’t about winning and you know it.”

“It is if you want it to be bro. At least I do the actual difficult events, instead of the ones that take no effort!”

Ok so Flame was 100% just trying to get a fight out of him. His eye twitches. His ragebait is working.

“Dawg what.” He settles on replying, too tired to hold an argument.

Especially one they have almost every day.

For some ungodly reason, Flame is convinced that distance events are easy.

Some sort of cheat to win or whatever.

Which just does not make sense.

But whatever.

It’s probably because it’s one of the only events he has left that he can beat Flame in.

The guys probably just sour about it.

…

He can feel his eyes grow heavy as the two watch tv in silence.

Maybe it’s because he’s tired, or maybe it’s because he’s too tired to get up, but he somehow ends up with his head resting on Flames shoulder as he fights sleep.

He can feel Flame tense up for a second, mumbling something Wemmbu didn’t hear, but the guy didn’t flick him away either.

That’s just how their rivalry was.

Confusing? Very. But it works for them.

He lets himself fall asleep, forgetting that he forgot to set his alarm for the morning.

__________

Wemmbu wakes to the sound of his phone going off, the alarm screaming right in his ear.

Quite literally.

He cracks an eye open, before realizing that he did not set an alarm last night.

He’s laying on his back, and his phone is sitting on his chest, the speakers pointing towards his face.

Wemmbu sits up, grabbing his phone to check the time.

4:50 am.

Wemmbu was going to kill Flame.

Practice starts in 10 minutes and he just woke up.

Wemmbu groans and stands up, stretching before going into the bathroom to change.

His muscles still hurt from the meet, but he’ll worry about that later.

He throws a shirt and a pair of shorts over his swimsuit and quickly braids his hair, before putting on his shoes and running out the door.

He forgot his swim bag.

He turns around, re-enters the dorm, grabs his bag and then— finally— leaves.

4:56 am.

Shit.

He runs more than one red light, but gets to the pool at 5:08.

Minute was not going to be happy.

He slams open the door and sprints down the hallway, opening another door to the pool itself, the smell of chlorine immediately hitting his nose.

It was comforting.

Wemmbu throws his bag on the bleachers and grabs his cap and goggles before running over to his usual lane.

He reads the set written on the whiteboard as he pulls his cap on, pretending to not notice Minute walking over.

“Good morning Wemmbu.” Minute says, watching him struggle.

Sometimes, caps infuriate him so much that he wants to shave his head bald.

Oh the woes of being a swimmer with long hair.

“G‘morning.” He replies, finally getting his hair into his cap.

“Why were you late?” Minute asks. He wasn’t mad.

…

~~Minute doesn’t get angry. Not at them. He gets worried.~~

…

His head feels like it might explode.

…

“Flame fucked with my alarm, he set it for 4:50.” He glared. Not at Minute, but at the man with a red cap currently waving at him.

Wemmbu flips him off.

Minute sighs, but a smile tugs at his lips. For some reason, the older man enjoys his and Flame’s rivalry.

Wemmbu does not find it amusing.

He can see Itz yelling at a group of guys for reasons he doesn’t know at the other end of the pool.

To the outsider eye, Minute and Itz are really intimidating, but Wemmbu and Flame know that the both of them are genuine sweethearts.

He means, Itz was literally singing California Girls at the top of his lungs while driving last week.

“Just do an easy warmup.” Minute says before turning back to the rest of the team.

Wemmbu complies, diving into Flame and Theo’s lane.

By the time he finishes warmup, the other two are trying to drown each other at the wall.

Wemmbu watched as Theo screamed and got dunked under the water by Flame, who immediately got pulled down by Theo.

He laughed as the two came back up for air, gasping and coughing.

Both of them looked at each other, then at him, then at each other again.

Wemmbu’s smile fell as both of them attacked him at the same time.

He screeched as he got pushed underwater, water filling his lungs and mouth as he tried to kick back up to the surface, ultimately unsuccessful.

So he does the next best thing, he grabs Theo’s ankle and pulls.

The guy shoots down, and Wemmbu uses his shoulder to push up and out of the water, gasping for air as soon as he feels the sweet sensation that is O2.

He glares at Flame through his goggles, but he knows the other can’t actually see his eyes. Tinted goggles. They have many perks.

Theo pops back up a second later, attempting to push Wemmbu underwater again, but this time, Wemmbu was holding onto the wall, so Theo just flopped backwards into the water.

Both Flame and Wemmbu burst out laughing, continuing to do so as Theo, once again, popped back up, screaming at them so loud that Minute came over and told them to get to work.

And so, although reluctantly, and with Theo complaining the entire time, they finished practice.

…

Wemmbu’s heart was beating a hindered miles an hour by the time they were done, his face hot despite having been in water for 2 hours.

His muscles ached, he felt like he couldn’t breath, and he wanted to curl up with 5 blankets and sleep forever.

He was starving too.

But, despite how much pain he was in, he felt accomplished. Pain meant he was getting better. Pain was an accomplishment.

It took many years for Wemmbu to realize that.

He only had one class that day, and it started at 2 pm, so he had time to lay around.

But he’d rather go out with his friends.

He texts the group chat he has with Rejoice and Egg, asking if they can hang out in an hour.

Egg says he has class, but Rejoice is free.

…

The dorm seems empty when he walks in. All the lights are off, and he flicks on the switch before setting his bag on the table.

He was kind of hoping that Flame would be here before him, because he did not want to make breakfast. Plus, Flame was good at cooking, and Wemmbu was most definitely not.

“Wemmbu. Bro what did you even do? Bro how—?”

“Dawg I don’t know! It just exploded!”

“The hot chocolate… just exploded… in the microwave?”

“Yes!”

“...You are impossible bro.”

…

He could make toast though.

Probably.

How hard can it be to make 4 slices of toast?

…

“Flame! Help, bro, I think the toaster is on fire.” Wemmbu stressed into the phone not even 5 minutes later, having spam called the guy as soon as the toaster started smoking.

“Wemmbu bro. It is 8 o’ clock in the morning. What do you mean the toaster is on fire?”

“I don’t know! It just started smoking up— ow!” He yelped as he touched the smoking toaster. Yeah, not his smartest move.

“Did you just touch the— you know what bro? It’s too early for this. Unplug the toaster bro. Pour baking soda on it. Clean the tray.”

And before he can respond, Flame hangs up, saying something about being there in a few minutes.

Wemmbu does as told, although not happy about having to clean the tray.

He’s putting away the supplies when the door unlocks and Flame walks in, holding a brown bag. He had brought McDonalds.

Flame takes one look at the state of the kitchen and snickers, dropping his swim bag on the table next to Wemmbu’s before starting to get out the food he brought.

…

Wemmbu throws a towel at him.

…

“Where's my thank you bro,” Flame laughs, handing him a breakfast sandwich. “I keep you from burning down the entire dorm, buy you breakfast, and this is how you repay me?”

“Nope, this is your payment for making me late.” He shoots back, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

He was grateful, but he’d rather die than say so.

Flame rolls his eyes, but takes out his own food and starts eating.

…

2 hours later, Wemmbu was on the road again. He was meeting up with Rejoice at some clay-making place.

Wemmbu doesn’t know the first thing about clay, but Rejoice really likes it. So he will endure it.

He pulls into the parking lot of the place around 10 minutes later, and he can see the yellow-haired boy sitting at a table inside.

A little bell dings as he walks inside the building.

…

~~They entered a little ice cream shop near the center of the market, the little bell over the door announcing their presence.~~

~~The smell of vanilla and dairy wafts over to him as they walk up to the red counter, the worker looking up in surprise.~~

…

A sharp pain rings through his head, and he just ignores it.

He’s gotten used to the sudden headaches, following vague memories that don’t feel like his own.

He stopped questioning it after a while.

…

Wemmbu smiled at Rejoice as he walked over, sitting down across from him.

“Hi Wemmbu!”

“Hey bro”

The boy was already molding a square of clay into what seemed to be a stem, and Wemmbu could only guess what he was making.

“Sunflower?” He asked, giggling a bit.

“Of course!” Rejoice replied, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, which it kinda was.

The yellow haired boy handed him a cube of clay, before going to start making the leaves for the stem.

Wemmbu sat there for a second, before getting an idea.

He started rolling out a section of the clay into a sort of rod shape, before taking some more and shaping it into a cube and attaching it to the end of the previously made handle.

“How are your classes going?” Rejoice asks him, and he sighs.

“Stressful, most of my professors are assholes who are genuinely convinced we don’t have lives outside of their classes.” He complains, adding 3 little triangles to the sides of the square not attached to the rod.

Wemmbu wasn’t even exaggerating, and his room was a prime example of that.

There was a half-finished shirt pinned to a mannequin in the middle of the room that was due today. Paper literally everywhere, from complicated math to sketches to designs for machinery. It was a mess, and he had no idea how he didn’t lose anything.

Maybe he shouldn’t have decided to pick up a minor— along with his major— and on top of swim. All at once.

Wemmbu’s free time was very sacred to him.

“You’re majoring in mechanical engineering, minoring in fashion design, and you do swim on top of all that. of course it’s going to be stressful!” Rejoice replies, smiling as he pretends to shake his head in disappointment.

Rejoice had specifically told him not to do this, when they were still seniors in high school. He’d said it would be too much, but Wemmbu said he could do it.

He could not.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s struggling in his classes. Not because he can’t understand the material, but because the workload is insane.

But nobody has to know that. He’d figure it out. He always does.

“I know, I know, I ‘should have listened to you’ or whatever” Wemmbu quipped, rolling his eyes and making air quotes with his hands.

Rejoice tried to seriously nod, but the guy was still grinning.

Wemmbu had no idea how he was a law student.

They fell into comfortable conversation as they finished their clay projects, making plans to come back the next week to paint.

Wemmbu was growing increasingly worried about Rejoice though, the guy had not stopped coughing throughout the entire time they were there.

He asked if he was getting sick, but Rejoice just shook his head, blaming it on allergies.

Wemmbu shrugged, telling the other to take medicine when he got back to his dorm, and Rejoice agreed, saying he already planned on it.

Wemmbu hummed in response, and soon enough, the two had finished with their creations. A worker placed them on a shelf to dry as Rejoice paid, brushing off Wemmbu’s attempts to get the other to split it.

“I could have paid bro.” He muttered as they started walking out of the building again.

He was secretly glad that Rejoice paid, though. Because Rejoice’s parents were paying for his college.

Wemmbu’s though… he didn’t want to think about it.

…

About the way they yelled when he started losing.

When he lost his spot at the top of the class in high school to Parrot and Wifies.

When Flame joined his team and immediately beat him in everything.

…

They refused to pay for anything after that.

It was fine though, he just had to work a little harder than most. 2 jobs kind of working hard.

Rejoice knew of this… situation he’s in. And he never brought it up, only offering to pay whenever he could, silently slipping bills into Wemmbu’s bag when he thought he wasn’t looking.

It was probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him.

…

“Sure, but you’re my friend!” Rejoice responded, smiling at him and adjusting the little sunflower clip in his hair.

It was so familiar.

…

~~That same smile. That same hair clip. That same red and blue hoodie. That same pin.~~

…

Once again, a sharp pain flies around his head.

…

~~Just like how the void felt when—~~

…

…It’s never been this bad before.

…

“—emmbu? You good?” Rejoice asks, worry lining his face.

“Yeah, just zoned out.” He nodded. “Hey— see you in two days?"

“Of course! Egg made the reservations like a month ago, I couldn’t miss it!”

Wemmbu smiles as he reaches his car, turning up the radio as he starts to drive away.

Notion by The Rare Occasions plays as he continues to make his way back to his dorm.

Sure, it's a calming notion, perpetual in motion

But I don't need the comfort of any lies

For I have seen the ending, and there is no ascending

Rise

Oh, back when I was younger, was told by other youngsters

That my end will be torture beneath the earth

'Cause I don't see what they see, when death is staring at me

I see a window, a limit, to live it, or not at all

…

He thinks Rejoice would like that song.

…

Wemmbu sighs before once again walking up the stairs, for as much of an athlete as he is, he sure as hell struggles with walking up stairs.

Defeated by a staircase

He thinks, once again unlocking the door to his room.

And immediately got a sandwich thrown at him.

“What the hell Flame!” He yells, catching the plastic bag the sandwich was in.

Although he couldn’t see the others eyes because of his blindfold, he could tell Flame was trying not to laugh.

And failing.

“Bro— bro your face,” he laughs.

Wemmbu did not find this amusing. He only slowly set the plastic down on the table, so Flame wouldn’t notice.

“You’re welcome by the way bro.” Flame says once he collected himself.

Wemmbu’s eye twitched.

Instead of thanking him, he ran at the other, tackling him to the ground. Flame gasped in betrayal before quite literally throwing Wemmbu off of him, in which Wemmbu responds by kicking him in the shin.

Flame yelps before grabbing the guy's leg, using his free arm to hit him.

Two fully grown men, play fighting on the floor like toddlers. What a sight.

Wemmbu tries to scramble away to evade Flame’s second hit, but the guy is still holding onto his leg.

“Bro let me go.” He glares,

“Nah bro, this is too funny” Flame replies, grinning at him.

“Dawg aren’t you supposed to be leaving to hang out with Lomedy?” Wemmbu asks, looking at the time.

Did he know that information? No. Was he only trying to get Flame to let go of him? …Possibly.

Flame looks at the time himself, cursing under his breath as he quickly gets up, finally freeing Wemmbu.

“You are so annoying bro” Flame said, grabbing his keys and leaving.

He did not expect that to work.

Wemmbu just sits on the floor for another minute, trying to comprehend what just happened. And then he remembered the sandwich, reluctantly getting up to go get it.

He had forgotten that he was hungry. Again.

…

~~“I’m never eating chorus fruit ever again”~~

…

He tries to ignore the pain, taking a bite out of the sandwich. It was good.

There’s a reason Flame does most of the cooking.

Mainly because Flame was actually good at it, not that Wemmbu would ever admit that out loud.

He’d rather—

Nope, not making my headache worse.

It was also because of Wemmbu’s tendency to forget to eat.

He can still remember how Flame confronted him, once the guy noticed he wasn’t eating as much as he probably should.

Because of course he noticed.

“Wemmbu bro, when was the last time you ate?” Flame asked, arms crossed and standing in the entry way, making it so he was unable to leave.

He just shrugs, he didn’t know and he had places to be. Specifically, practice. They both had a meet that weekend, and he needed to get in as much practice as possible before then.

“Don’t shrug at me, this is serious.” The guy responds. Wemmbu knows he’s glaring, although he can’t see his eyes under the blindfold.

“You do understand that you need to have good nutrition to actually improve, right?”

Great, now he sounds just like—

…

Wemmbu just nods. It’s not really his fault, he just forgets sometimes. He’s a busy guy.

“Are you not talking now bro? I’m being serious, you need to figure it out.”

No, why would he talk? He’ll just say something he’ll regret, and then he’ll be in a whole world of trouble.

And maybe he just doesn’t want to.

Wemmbu just stares at him, fidgeting with his hands. He did not want to be in this situation.

“God, you’re like a wounded puppy.” Flame sighs, but he turns to leave. It’s not like either of them can skip practice because of an interrogation.

…

The next morning, he got home later than usual from practice. There was a car accident, or something, he didn’t really care.

What was surprising, however, was a plate of food sitting on the table. There was a note, written on a small yellow sticky note stuck to the table next to it.

Put it in the microwave for 1 min if it’s cold

-Flame

No ‘you’re welcome’, no ‘I made this for you so you should probably eat it’, no forcing. Just a tip.

He was silently grateful, he would have forgotten again.

He had put the food in the microwave, as it was a bit cold.

And that was their new routine. Flame usually made food for the both of them now, and he never complained about it.

Flame never brought it up, just handed him whatever he had made, a silent reminder.

It was… really nice of him.

He had improved in the water by a lot after that.

…

Unfortunately, Wemmbu was still a college student with college student responsibilities.

He groaned as he finished his sandwich, realizing he had to finish that half-made shirt in his room in less than 2 hours.

…

He was done for. Utterly, completely, spectacularly, done for.

It looked like shit.

He was going to fail.

But it was the best he could do in the time he had, so he stuffs the article in his bag and runs out the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

A different song plays in the background as he drives. He thinks it's called Things to Do.

Hold on tight to this time, this place

‘Cause everything you know will be erased

You were born inside your head

And that is where you’ll be when you are dead

You are just a boy, you are no man

And nobody you know will understand

…

He mostly zoned out through the entirety of his class, only paying half attention as his teacher was grading his work.

And the professor was not nice about it.

“Wemmbu. What the hell is this?!” She screeches, looking at him with such horror in her eyes that he might as well have maced her entire family.

“A shirt?” He replies— well— more like questioned.

“Well it looks like shit. This is why you ‘athletes’ don’t belong in my class, all you know how to do is move your body. Not a thought in your head!” She yells, before turning and walking away, her heels clacking on the floor.

Well, ouch.

He can hear Zam snicker beside him, and he shoots her a very extremely nice look.

…

The woman droned on for another 2 hours, assigning them even more work. Like he didn’t have enough to do already.

He was determined to make something good this time, though. Something she can’t yell at him for.

Wemmbu was still thinking about what to do as he walked into work. He only worked from 4:30 to 7:30 PM today, because he had class and then had practice at 8.

His second job will be waiting for him at 10:30.

He was going to get home at 3:30 AM. He had practice at 5.

Damn taking extra shifts.

But he needs the money.

…He’s going to complain a lot tomorrow.

…

Mcdonalds was quite the place to work. It held some… interesting people, per se.

His first customers were complaining about their day as they walked up to order.

“You broke my TV!” one of them whisper-yelled.

“You told me to bro!” The other replied, trying not to giggle.

“It was a joke!” Came the reply, but the person was also slightly laughing.

“Yo, at least you’re free from your brother now bro”

“...True. I am free. Is this freedom? True freedom?”

“Bro stop acting like you’re analyzing a book”

Wemmbu just blinked, it was going to be a long day.

“And plus! I am literally paying for your food! ‘Cause I’m such an amazing friend!”

“You almost burned my house down last week. Genuinely fuck my life.”

“Ok so we’re just deadass hating. I don’t deserve this bro!”

“...Are you guys going to order?” He asked, silently wondering what the hell was going on.

“Yeah, as soon as this guy stops slandering my name.” the one who broke the TV says, pointing at the other

“I glaze you like, every time you—”

“Okokok! You can stop now!”

Wemmbu fights the urge to slam his head against the wall. What has his life come to.

Eventually, the two ordered, having finally stopped bickering and were now talking about a book. Freaking nerds, analyzing some words on a paper like it was a puzzle to be solved.

…

Two teenage girls, one with brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and one with a blond half up half down walk in next.

Both of them seem to look him up and down, silently judging him even though he literally hasn't done anything.

“I want fries.” Says the girl with brown hair, glaring at him.

Now, usually, Wemmbu would say something snarky right back, but he kinda needs this job.

“Nicole! Say please!” Glares the blond one.

“Nah, I’m not going to say please to someone who looks like a street rat.” Replies Nicole, her resting bitch face ever so slightly turning into a smirk.

Okay so why is everyone mean today—?

“Okay, bro, what?” He says, regretting all life choices.

The blond one shoots him an apologetic look, but it didn’t seem very sincere.

Wemmbu decides he hates his life.

He purposefully makes the two’s orders wrong.

They smell like cigarettes anyways.

…

Wemmbu genuinely would rather throw himself off a bridge than be at work.

Because tell him why there is a bright red demon in front of him. Black crown, green pants, grey shirt and a striped tie? Does this thing have any fashion sense?

Its tail whips behind it, and it just creeplily smiles at Wemmbu.

“Bro literally what is this world? What do you want?” He asks, already tired of… whatever this thing is.

“I.would.like.a.burger.” It says, “do.you.know.where.aubree.is?”

Literally who is Aubree.

“Yeah I can get you that… and no bro I don’t even know an Aubree?”

The thing frowns, and suddenly Wemmbu feels very threatened.

“Look bro— I- I’ll keep a look out, ok?”

Why? Why him? Why are all his customers freaks?

The thing doesn’t reply, just walks away.

It didn’t even pay.

Wemmbu pretended not to notice.

…

Nope, nope, he was quitting! Wemmbu was going to quit his job!

There was a guy with a gun, a guy who seemed to be missing most of his body parts, and a girl dressed as a clown in front of him.

“Give me all your money before I shoot up this whole place!” Yells the guy with the gun.

“Ze!” the guy with the missing parts yells back.

“Honk honk honk honk” the girl, well, honked.

“I’m not even joking!” The guy, Ze, yells again.

Wemmbu blinks.

“...No” he says eventually.

Ze looks like he was going to say something back when there was a crash outside the building, and everyone turned their attention to look outside.

Huge ass turkeys.

Outside a Mcdonalds.

The three immediately ran off, leaving Wemmbu to question if he was going crazy or not.

At this point, he might be.

…

He was exhausted when his shift finally ended, and rightfully so.

Because what the hell was that?

Wemmbu was still processing as he changed into his swimsuit, pulling his original clothes back on over it so he could walk outside without getting arrested for public indecency.

The drive was quiet, a song playing.

He doesn’t know the name, but he knows the tune.

Every lyric, by heart.

…He’s never heard it before.

…

~~“I-I appreciate playing with you guys, I’m dead.”~~

~~“Please. Don’t blame yourself.”~~

~~“Don’t look. Don’t look. Please— please don’t look!”~~

~~“Wemmbu— Wemmbu I’m scared.”~~

~~“Forgive and forget.”~~

…

…?

…!

God, he feels like he got shot.

Tears prick in the corner of his eyes before he can stop it, and he pulls over before he causes an accident.

White spots cover his vision, and he starts uncontrollably coughing. He tries to cover his mouth with his arm, but when he pulls away, there are specks of blood littering his sleeve.

He gets out of the car, walks around to the other side and sits down on the grass.

The itch comes back, and he tries to repress it.

God, he thinks his skull is being crushed.

It hurts.

“Fuck” Wemmbu whispers, causing the coughing to start up again.

He can smell iron, taste the blood pooling in his mouth.

This was not good.

He can’t ignore it anymore.

Wemmbu can only watch the grass in front of him turn red, a single poor dandelion facing the worst of it.

He wanted to call someone, to ask what to do. He wanted someone to help, but no matter how bad he wanted someone to be there, he never reached for his phone.

He wasn’t going to bother anyone.

Even though this was the worst physical pain he’s ever felt in his entire life.

…

…10 minutes later, the coughing stops.

And as Wemmbu starts wiping the blood from his mouth, the headache (or whatever that was) starts to subside.

…

He’s driving again, hands shaking. The headache doesn’t go away, but it becomes bearable.

He slams his head back against the seat when he remembers he has practice and then work again.

This sucks.

…

“Late again?” Minute muses, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Traffic, god people are stupid.” He says.

Wemmbu was never a very convincing liar, but he hopes Minute doesn’t notice.

Minute raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, only gesturing for him to get in the water.

Which he does. Someone else is in his usual lane today, besides Theo and Flame.

Jaden.

Wemmbu wasn’t the closest to him, but he didn’t mind the guy. Flame, on the other hand, hated him.

Which makes him confused as to why Jaden was with them, because he definitely knows Flame doesn’t like him.

In fact, Flame was already yelling at the guy when Wemmbu got back to the wall after warming up.

“Bro just give Lomedy his dorm key back!” Flame yelled, looking pissed off enough to start a fight.

“No… I lost mine so…” Jaden responds, looking completely unbothered.

Flame dunked him under the water.

And was not letting him back up.

“Flame bro, let him breathe” Wemmbu says, getting ready to pull Jaden up himself, if need be.

“Bro why are we fighting?” Theo asks, “can we just lock in for once? Please”

“Jaden has Lomedy’s dorm key.” Flame replies, “Wemmbu bro, stop.” He glares as Wemmbu pulls him away from Jaden, letting the guy come up for air.

Jaden gasps as he comes back up, coughing up water.

“Thanks Wemmbu” he says eventually, smiling at him.

Wemmbu smiles back, and punches Flame in the arm.

“Bro can you, like, not?” Flame scowled.

Wemmbu was going to respond, but Theo opened his mouth first. “Ladies, ladies, it’s all going to be okay!”

All three of them turned and glared at him.

“Okay okay sorry.”

…

He got through practice without another headache, which was good.

He assumes it's because he doesn’t think when he swims. It’s as if his body is on auto-pilot, and all he can feel is the burning in his limbs.

Hear the disruption of the water.

See that god-forsaken black line at the bottom of the pool.

Hit his hand on the lane line.

Which hurts by the way.

Like, really bad.

…

Wemmbu is still trying to catch his breath as he quickly changes, going quickly so he can get to his second job on time.

Which he hates even more.

…

The glowing sign of the gas station slowly flickers in and out as he pulls into the parking lot, crickets chirping throughout the night.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be a great start to one of those shitty horror movies he and Egg watch together.

He walks inside and makes his way to go stand behind the counter, tugging at his shirt while walking. It was really uncomfortable, but he had to wear it. Company policy, or whatever.

Usually the only people that came in this late were drug dealers, alcoholics, and families on road trips.

So not the most… fun assortment of people, he must say.

His first customer fits into none of those stereotypes.

A normal-looking dude walks in, wearing a polo shirt that says Redbull in big letters. He had a hat on, too, even though it was late at night.

He was buying a redbull too.

So either this guy had a crazy addiction, or he was important.

“...You must really like redbull.” Wemmbu says, trying not to giggle.

The man just blinks.

“Yes.”

Oh-kay, not very talkative I see.

The man turns and leaves, the door screeching as it closes.

Wemmbu hums and taps his fingers on the counter, waiting.

He looks at the clock.

10:50 PM.

It’s only been 20 minutes.

He sighs, the buzz of the freezers humming in his ears.

One of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickers.

3 short flickers.

3 long.

1 long, 1 short, 1 long, 1 short.

1 short, 1 long, 1 short.

1 short, 1 long.

1 long.

1 short.

3 short.

And then it repeats.

Over and over again.

It was driving him insane.

…

10 minutes later, the door opens again. Wemmbu looked up from his phone, where he was playing clash royale.

A familiar face grins back at him.

“Rejoice bro, why are you here?” Wemmbu asks, confused.

“Couldn’t sleep!” Rejoice chirped, walking over to the counter.

The guy was smiling, but Wemmbu could tell how tired he was. Sure, he made eye contact, but it was as if he was seeing through him.

Rejoice’s skin was unusually pale, and he swayed a bit on his feet.

“Are you alright?” Wemmbu asks.

“Mhm! Well, I feel a little sick, but it’ll be fine!” He smiles.

Wemmbu instinctively steps back a little.

“Do not come near me with your sick germs” he jokes, picking up a pen and pointing it at the other, as if using it as a weapon.

Rejoice snatches up another pen, also holding it in front of him defensively, grinning all the while.

“And what if I do?” He asks, smiling as he slightly tilts his head to the side.

“I’ll stab you repeatedly with my pen.”

“You wouldn’t!” Rejoice half gasps and half giggles.

“Watch me, buddy.” Wemmbu replies, smirking as he goes to hit Rejoice’s pen.

The boy giggles as he deflects the attack, using the opening to try and hit Wemmbu’s pen out of his hand, and succeeding.

Rejoice starts flat out laughing as if this was the funniest thing in the world as the pen goes flying, but then immediately delves into a coughing fit.

…

~~Wemmbu couldn’t stop the cough, but he could sit on the other's bed and pull him into a hug.~~

…

…?

Wemmbu ignores the pain in his head and goes to grab a water bottle from one of the fridges.

He can’t think of anything else to do.

Rejoice tries to smile at him as he walks back over, but it turns out to be more of a grimace. Wemmbu hands him the water bottle, returning the smile.

“Sit down dawg” he said, trying not to let his concern show.

Rejoice nods, unable to talk through his coughs, and sits on the floor. Wemmbu sits next to him, rubbing circles into the others back.

Eventually, his coughs died down enough for him to drink the water Wemmbu gave him.

“...Are you alright?” Wemmbu asks, for the second time in 15 minutes.

“Yeah!” Rejoice replies, a little too enthusiastically. He smiles and holds up a thumbs up, and as if just to spite him, his nose starts bleeding.

Wemmbu raises an eyebrow at the guy, as if to say, bro are you sure? Before getting up again to find tissues.

He looks around for a bit, and finally settles on using paper towels since he couldn’t find any tissues.

Wemmbu hands Rejoice the whole roll, and he rips off one rectangle to stop the blood, and another two to clean up the mess he got on his hands and the floor.

“...Thanks” Rejoice smiles, “I’ll pay for the water once my nose stops bleeding”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Who cares if a multi-million dollar company is missing a singular water bottle anyways?” He jokes, which causes Rejoice to giggle.

“Didn’t think I’d be sitting on the floor of a gas station with a bloody nose at 11:30 today” he laughs, although he still looked pained.

“‘How was your day?’ Oh yeah I helped one of my best friends stop a bloody nose in the middle of a gas station, how was yours?’” Wemmbu grinned.

The two look at each other for a second, before both bursting into laughter at the absurdity of their current situation.

It was a wonder how a customer didn’t come in.

“You should probably head home and get some rest, whatever this is, obviously isn’t allergies.”

Rejoice frowns a little.

“But I don’t wanna leave you, you’ll die of boredom without me!”

“I’ll call the cops on you for stealing bro”

“That wasn’t even me!” He shrieks, but stands up nonetheless.

Wemmbu waves as Rejoice walks out the door, finally sighing as the guy was out of sight.

He was worried.

Like, really, really worried.

He’d check up on Rejoice in the morning, though.

For now, he still had work.

Wemmbu glanced at the clock, sighing as it only said 11:35. He once again resisted the urge to slam his head against the counter, instead taking to counting each dot imprinted into the popcorn ceiling.

…

~~He looks at Wemmbu, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to get revenge? Don’t you want power beyond human comprehension? Don’t you never want to be seen as weak again?”~~

~~“Well— yeah— obviously— but like…”~~

~~“I can give you everything.”~~

~~“...I’m listening…”~~

~~Wifies grin widens~~

~~“Have you ever heard of the orbital strike cannon, Wemmbu?”~~

~~And suddenly the city around them fades out. And he smiles too. The itch for violence rushes back to him tenfold.~~

~~“What do you need from me?”~~

…

~~“...You know what? Sure Rejoice, we can be friends.” He smiles back, realizing that this guy is his target.~~

~~How in the world is this chungie a threat to the mafia? He literally looks like the embodiment of sunshine and rainbows!~~

~~Rejoice quite literally jumps for joy at his answer, only stopping to dig around his inventory for something.~~

~~“You cannot be this lonely” Wemmbu giggles as Rejoice sets down a shulker box.~~

~~“Hey! It gets lonely down here! And everybody kinda ignores me anyway…” Rejoice says as he finds what he's looking for.~~

~~“Thats, like really sad bro.” He says, eyes turning to what Rejoice was holding out to him.~~

~~“Here! Take a friendship sunflower!” He grins,~~

~~“I am not taking a friendship flower.”~~

…

~~He doesn’t know why he’s holding a mace.~~

~~Blood.~~

~~Fresh.~~

~~That he spilled.~~

~~Too loud.~~

~~They’re all bugs.~~

~~Bugs get squashed—~~

~~Floor.~~

~~Iron in his mouth.~~

~~Hands.~~

~~Holding him down.~~

~~Cold metal.~~

~~Around his wrists.~~

~~Leather seats.~~

~~Wheels on the ground.~~

~~Buzzing.~~

~~In his ears.~~

~~Rejoice.~~

…

He doesn’t know when he sat down against the wall, when he covered his head with his hands, writhing in pain.

…

“Oh come on! Another assassination mission? You’re actually going to kill me with boredom. Whatever happened to killing with kindness? You could like— I dunno— let me go?” Wemmbu complained, pacing back and forth across the room.

~~He was getting quite tired of all these side quests Ash was sending him on.~~

~~“Wemmbu, these people are a threat to the mafia. They need to be taken care of.”~~

~~“Oh yeah, ‘cause mcmstr456 is a threat to the mafia.” He laughs, mocking the armorless man.~~

~~“It’s not always about their physical strength, it's about the information they carry.”~~

~~“Well now you just sound like Egg.”~~

…

~~“You didn’t used to be like this. What happened?”~~

…

~~You.~~

…

…?

There's blood on his hands. Wemmbu thinks he's been coughing again, but he wouldn’t know for sure though, he had wrenched his eyes shut as soon as the pain started.

He’s lightheaded, he thinks he’s going to pass out.

He cracks his eyes open, immediately regretting it as white spots swarm his vision.

Wemmbu smiles as he passes out.

Anything is better than the pain the ‘memories’ give him.

…

You aren’t supposed to be here.

I assumed you were stronger than this.

Unfortunately, I must be wrong.

I will not lessen the pain merely because you are weak.

Wake up.

…

…?

…!

He wakes.

Wemmbu blinks as the light glares into his eyes painfully.

Someone is standing over him, concern lining her face.

“H-ello?” He says, voice cracking.

“Are you okay dear?” She asks, holding a small child who couldn’t be older than 3 to her side.

He just looks at her before nodding, pulling himself up off the floor and wiping the blood from his mouth.

But it's dried, so nothing actually comes away. He’ll fix it later.

This has got to be the most embarrassing situation he has ever been in.

The woman buys some food and leaves, once again leaving him alone with his thoughts. He looks at the clock. 2:30.

Only 30 minutes left.

He’s tired.

He’s really tired.

…

“Where have you been bro?” Flame asks as he walks into their room.

He was sitting on his bed on the other side of the room, packing his bag. Wemmbu schoofs, he still doesn’t see why the guy feels the need to practice for an entire extra hour.

“Work.” He replies, flopping down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“That late?”

“Yup! Best experience I’ve ever had!” Wemmbu smiles sarcastically.

“Sounds rough, bud. I’m gonna get going though, see you in… an hour and a half!” Flame laughs, ruffling his hair as he walks out the door.

He flips off the guys back before flopping back down onto the blankets.

Wemmbu is asleep in the next 2 minutes.

…

He’s standing in a sunflower field. Wait, no. He’s sitting. On the ground? No, he’s standing again.

Someone has their head laying on his shoulder. They are humming. He knows this song. One person used to sing it.

He tries to call his name, but the words don’t come out.

He tries again.

“Rejoice?” Wemmbu says, voice shaky from, if he didn't know better, he’d think misuse.

The boy’s head snaps up, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide, fearful eyes.

“You’re— You’re here? Why are you here?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“...I had nothing left, Rejoice.”

It doesn’t take the guy that long to put 2 and 2 together.

“You had your cat”

“I gave her to Minute when I got arrested.”

“You had Minute”

“He was just a nice guy. I didn’t even know him that well.”

Rejoice was silent.

Wemmbu continued to talk, and continued to try to explain himself.

“I lost Egg. I lost Flame and Mane. And then I lost you. What else was I supposed to do?” His voice cracks. He didn’t cry, though. He’d done enough of that when he was alive.

“I lost my only way to make a living, so I would have lost my apartment. I wouldn’t have been able to get a job, because I got arrested for your murder. I had literally nothing left.”

It was quiet again.

“You were supposed to survive that one.” Rejoice whispers. “I— I don’t blame you, though. You don’t have to explain yourself.

Wemmbu relaxes, and the two are silent for a second.

“It gets lonely here. The only person I see here is you, but only when you wake up. Most of the time, you’re like a statue!” Rejoice giggles, but he looks at him with a sadness in his eyes that makes Wemmbu look away.

“Sometimes, the sunflowers grow around your body. I have to cut them away. It gives me something to do, digging in the dirt to pull out the flowers.”

Rejoice looks at the clouds, at the sun.

The clouds don’t move.

Neither does the sun.

The flowers sway in a wind that isn’t there.

“But, every time I dig up a flower…” The boy starts, grabbing a sunflower that he must have recently dug up.

“I have to be reminded of what this really is.”

Wemmbu looks at the sunflower, eyes traveling from the head of it to its roots.

And its roots, are not roots.

But wires.

…

The sound of his alarm drags him out of his sleep kicking and screaming. Quite literally. Wemmbu groans as he pulls himself out of bed, eye twitching in annoyance.

He curses himself for ever joining this sport as he gets ready, throwing on a hoodie and shorts over his swimsuit.

The hoodie was something he got in freshman year. It was dark blue and had the words ‘Unstable University’ in big letters on it, with ‘Division 1 Swim Team’ being printed underneath in smaller letters.

Everyone on the team had one.

He takes his time walking to his car, sitting in his seat and contemplating life for a second before starting the car.

There's yet another song playing on the radio. He’s never heard it before, but the screen in his car says it's called Elsa’s Song.

And in years to come, you’ll wander, to the place up on our hill

And then you’ll cry to our painted sky “I loved him then, I love him still!”

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies, and roses where I rot

Of all the flowers you picked,

I knew you would forget

Forget-me-nots

…

Jaden isn’t in their lane today. Wemmbu assumes the guy got the hint. And he’s not late this time, which gets him a nod from Minute.

He looks at the whiteboard, which usually has what they’re doing that day written on it.

All it says, in huge letters, is ‘Time trials today!’ with a smiley face, probably courtesy of Itz.

Wemmbu hates time trial days.

It’s basically where you swim specific races as fast as you would in an actual meet, for times. And Wemmbu is running on an hour of sleep and no food.

This was not going to go well.

He sat on the bleachers as he watched his teammates race, because he wasn’t going to be trialing for things he doesn’t even swim.

Theo was in the water, swimming the 100 breaststroke. He was damn good at it too, having made some crazy cuts in the event.

He was on the 400 IM relay team for a reason.

Wemmbu himself wasn’t on that relay, because he isn’t a sprinter. This guy named Swight did freestyle instead of him.

He didn’t mind all that much, he knew that if there was a relay where he had to do anything over a 500, he would be the first on it.

Flame came over and sat next to him while he was zoned out, laughing a bit as he jumped.

“You ready to race?” He asks, “and lose?”

“I’m not going to lose bro.” Wemmbu replies,

“And how much sleep did you get last night?”

“Enough”

“Liar”

“I’ll still win”

“Prove it”

“I will”

Flame laughs as he gets up and walks away, likely to go talk to Swight.

Wemmbu rolls his eyes, thoughts drifting to Rejoice. He hopes he got back to his dorm safe. He’d text him after practice, because the guy likely wasn’t awake yet.

Eventually, it was his turn to swim.

He turns to look at Flame, who shoots him a grin that screams ‘I am going to win’.

And usually that wasn’t true. Usually, in this event, it's anyone's game. Because Wemmbu’s time is only .13 tenths of a second slower than Flame.

And in a 400?

That's basically nothing.

Today, however, Wemmbu knows that he’s going to lose.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Itz gestures for them to get on the blocks.

And that he does.

“Swimmers, take your mark!” Itz yells.

And he does.

“Go!”

And he does.

The sounds of people talking and water draining evaporates as he dives into the water. He can only hear the water rushing past his ears as he comes up for air.

And then the real race begins.

The 400 IM is widely considered the hardest or second hardest event for a reason.

Flame is right next to him as he turns off of the first wall, but pulls ahead almost immediately. Wemmbu catches back up a few laps later, and suddenly, it’s anyone's game.

His muscles burn as he pushes himself to win, but the exhaustion, worry, and lack of food catch up to him first. He slows down, just a smidge, but it's enough.

Wemmbu loses by half a second.

It doesn’t really matter because it’s just a trial, but he’s still annoyed because Flame probably won’t shut up about it for an entire week.

He sighs as he sees Flame once again walk over to his spot on the metal bleachers.

“You look genuinely stupid with a swim cap on bro.” Flame says.

“Like you don’t?” He shoots back.

“Well I look like I have aura, you just look bald bro.”

“Bro you do not have aura.”

“Says the guy who just lost to me.”

“D’alrighttt” he replies, lightly punching Flame in the shoulder.

Flame wasn’t wrong though, Wemmbu did, in fact, look stupid in a swim cap. It’s not every day that you see Wemmbu without hair.

The rest of practice goes by in a blur. Partially because of how tired he is, and partly because he ended up zoning out through the rest of it.

“You still coming over tonight?” Minute asks him as he’s packing up his stuff.

Right. He had completely forgotten it was Saturday.

He doesn’t know when it started, but every Saturday night he goes to have dinner with Minute and his son, Spoke.

He thinks it's because they were the ones to take care of him when his parents kicked him out for a few months.

Wemmbu honestly thinks he belongs more with Minute and Spoke than his own family.

Minute is like a father to him, and Spoke a younger brother.

He cares for them like they’re his own family, but he’d never admit that out loud. Especially to Spoke. He’d never let him live it down.

“Yes sir, MinuteTech sir!” He says, smiling at his coach.

“D'alright,” Minute replies, laughing before walking off again.

Wemmbu gets out his phone to text Rejoice, asking if he’s alright. He tells himself that he’ll wait until later in the day to be worried, because if Rejoice doesn’t respond by then, something's probably really wrong.

The drive back to his dorm is quiet, minus the radio. This time, the song is called Curses.

Won’t you stay with me, my darling

When the war starts in my heart?

When the war starts in my heart

Oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust

The devils after both of us

Lay my curses out to rest

Make a mercy out of me

…

The smell of eggs and bacon hits his nose as he walks inside, shrugging off his bag and putting it on the table.

He had reluctantly changed at the pool, because he didn’t want to deal with wet clothes along with his suit.

He had brushed and braided his hair, but there was no hair drier in the locker room, so he just had to deal with wet hair.

Unfortunately.

“I see you didn’t tragically die in a car accident on the way back.” Wemmbu mumbles, sitting down at the table.

“Bro?” Flame responds, turning to look at him.

Before Wemmbu can even blink, a spatula is being thrown at his head. He yelps as he dodges it, glaring at the guy.

“I am literally the only person who makes sure you eat bro, if I go down, you go down with me bro” he says, turning back to his cooking.

Wemmbu rolls his eyes and checks his phone to see if Rejoice responded, eyebrows slightly crinkling in worry when he sees he hasn’t.

“Did Jaden ever give Lomedy his dorm key back?” He finds himself asking, playing with his hoodie strings.

“No bro. I’m actually about to murder him bro.” Flame sighs, getting out 2 plates.

“Nah, you still need him for the relay.” Wemmbu responds as Flame hands him a plate.

Flame only grumbles something about murder under his breath, sitting down across from him. The two are silent as they eat, only passing comments filling the air.

…

9 hours later, Wemmbu is standing in front of Minute’s house.

And suddenly, he's 17 again, standing in front of the only place he knew to go, rain soaking through his clothes.

He’s shivering. It’s cold, he should be cold.

But his face is warm with anger.

Sure, his grades are slacking a bit. Sure, he’s not doing as good in swim as he should, and sure he’s been talking back, sneaking out, getting in trouble.

But that doesn’t mean his parents can just kick him out like that.

Angry tears fall down his face as he raises his hand to knock on the door.

He hesitates.

He doesn’t want to bother Minute, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

He could probably crash at Egg’s place for a few nights, but his best friend's parents wouldn’t let him stay for long.

Rejoice’s parents don’t really like him, so he’s a no go.

And his pride couldn’t handle going to Flame.

So that leaves Minute.

He knocks, stepping back a second as he waits. A few moments later, he can hear someone sprinting down the stairs.

Someone who is definitely not Minute.

The door swings open so fast that Wemmbu jumps.

And Spoke stands there, practically staring into his soul.

The guy was only a year younger than him, but he acted like he was about 10 most of the time.

“Wemmbu, Wemmbu, Wemmbu,” Spoke says. “My friend! What are you doing here on this sunny evening?”

“Spoke, it’s pouring.” He replies, exasperated. “And I need to talk to Minute.”

“Daaaddd! Someone needs to talk to youuu!” Spoke yells up the stairs.

A second later, Wemmbu hears another pair of footsteps, and then Minute appears behind Spoke.

“Wemmbu? What are you doing here?” He asks.

And suddenly, talking sounds like the most difficult thing in the world.

Because how is he supposed to explain his situation to Minute? And especially with Spoke standing there.

It’s not that Wemmbu dislikes Spoke— he’s actually quite fond of the guy— but they aren’t all that close.

Minute seems to notice his discomfort.

“Alright, Spoke? Go up to your room for a bit.” He says, “and Wemmbu, come on inside, it’s pouring out.”

“Okay!” Spoke grins before bounding away.

Wemmbu just nods before stepping inside the house.

Minute’s house was so different from his own. It was warm, and slightly messy.

Lived in.

Unlike the pristine coldness of his own home.

The shadows didn’t feel like they might reach out and tear him apart here.

Wemmbu finds himself relaxing as Minute leads him into the living room.

“Sit. I’ll go make some hot chocolate.” The older man says,

“But I’ll get your couch wet,” he replies.

“The couch will dry, Wemmbu.”

He sits.

…

And almost immediately gets bored.

Who can blame him? He has the attention span of a toddler.

Wemmbu looks around the room.

There's a table with a lamp and a photo on it. He picks up the photo, and it looks to be of Minute and Spoke when they were much younger.

Spoke didn’t look any older than 6, clinging to Minute like he might disappear at any given moment.

Wemmbu is positive that the photo likely embarrasses Spoke, and it’s probably why Minute chose it.

He smiles before putting the photo back down, and Minute walks back in only a second later.

“Here” he says, handing Wemmbu a red plastic cup. “I would have gotten you a mug, but Spoke accidentally broke them all.”

“All of them?” He laughs, taking the cup.

“Yeah, he was trying to make a card house, but since we didn’t have cards, he thought using our glasses would be a good idea.” Minute sighs, shaking his head.

Wemmbu laughs as he pictures glass shattering and Spoke screeching.

Minute sits down in a chair across from him, taking a sip of his own drink before speaking again.

“So, what did you need to talk to me about?” He asks, and Wemmbu’s smile drops.

He didn’t want to think about the way his dad yelled, the disappointment in his moms eyes.

But he told Minute anyway.

If Minute had thoughts, he didn’t show it. His face didn’t once change as Wemmbu explained, not even when he had to stop for a second so he wouldn’t cry.

“So you need a place to stay for a while?” Minute asked when he was done.

Wemmbu looked down and nodded, embarrassed.

“Okay.”

He looks up again, confusion flooding his face.

“What do you mean— just ‘okay’?”

“Yes, just ‘okay’” Minute nods, standing up. ”Theres a guest bedroom upstairs, next to Spoke’s room. You can stay there.”

And then he walked away.

…

The first week was awkward. He didn’t know any of the house rules, what to do and what not to do, when to get up, when to go to sleep.

But by the second week, it was like he’d been there his whole life.

…Almost as if he belonged in this little family.

It was nice.

Minute was kind, even going as far as to buy him new clothes because he didn’t have any.

And Spoke was… well… Spoke.

For around 4 months, he felt like he had an actual family. Well, until his parents decided they felt bad.

He argued.

With his parents and with Minute.

He would have done anything if it meant being able to stay with Spoke and Minute.

Minute argued on his side at first.

His parents threatened legal action.

That was the end of that.

He cried a lot, the day he left Minute’s house.

Minute told him that he could come have dinners with them on Saturdays.

For the first few weeks, he was too angry to do so.

But he slowly realized that it wasn’t Minute’s fault.

So he started going to said dinners.

…

Wemmbu knocks on the door, waiting to hear the familiar footsteps of Spoke. The door opens just as fast as it did all those years ago, and once again, Spoke stands there, staring into his very soul.

“Wemmbu, Wemmbu, Wemmbu” Spoke smiles, “my friend! What are you doing here on this sunny evening?”

“Spoke, it’s pouring.” He replies, grinning.

It was, in fact, a sunny evening. But, they keep the tradition going.

Spoke giggles as he lets Wemmbu inside, the door softly closing behind them. Minute is in the kitchen, finishing up his cooking.

“Hello, Wemmbu,” he smiles.

Wemmbu smiles back.

He’ll never get over how warm this house is.

He starts to get out plates and utensils, helping Spoke to set the table. It was all nice plates and silverware, except for the cups. Minute never got around to buying new ones.

Probably because he didn’t want Spoke breaking any more of his cups.

…

“And you know what he says?” Spoke complains, “Spoke, I think that may be a little dangerous. And it’s not! It’s not!”

The guy was complaining about their mechanical engineering professor, and Wemmbu laughed, remembering this happening.

“Spoke, you were trying to make a machine that would kill innocent people.” Minute replies, setting down his fork.

“Ok, but the law could use it to take out, like, all the bad criminals in one shot!” Spoke smiles, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Again, it would take out innocent people.”

Spoke huffs and goes back to his food, before his face lights up again and he turns to Wemmbu.

“Do not.” Wemmbu glares at the same time Spoke says,

“Wemmbu’stryingtomakeanorbitalstrikecannon!”

Wemmbu only stares at him for a second before kicking his chair over. Spoke screeches as he falls, and Wemmbu bursts out laughing.

Minute sighs, smiling as he shakes his head. Wemmbu goes back to eating, trying to pretend that nothing happened.

But he kept giggling while trying to eat.

Spoke frowns as he picks his chair up, sitting down and continuing to eat.

…

Wemmbu and Spoke are sitting in Spoke’s room, with Wemmbu sitting on the bed, and Spoke sitting in a spinning chair at his desk.

It seemed to be familiar, in ways that Wemmbu doesn’t understand.

Spoke spun around in the chair as he talked, which meant Wemmbu could only hear part of what Spoke was saying.

He was talking about some coding project he was working on, and it sounded really complicated.

…

“Wemmbu, do you think we’ve met before?” Spoke asks suddenly, pausing his spinning to look at Wemmbu very seriously.

“Uh, yeah bro? We met, like, in middle school.” He responds, confused.

“No, like… do you think we’ve met in a past life?”

…

~~“Hi, what's your— what's your na— Your name's Wemmbu. What are you doing here in the end?” Spoke asks,~~

~~“Yeah, just a… side? Hobby? Project?” Wemmbu responds, seeming like he’s questioning himself.~~

…

~~“Oh my god don’t tell me you joined the mafia!” Spoke yells.~~

~~“Do I— do I know you?”~~

…

~~“What's your opinion on your impending doom?”~~

~~“Hello bro!?”~~

…

~~“HimynamesSpokeandI’llbegivingyouatouroftheschool!”~~

~~“Could you talk any faster?”~~

…

~~“Wemmy!”~~

~~“Call me that again and I’ll strangle you.”~~

…

…!

He winced, but the usual aftermath never came.

“That's— that’s kind of a stupid question.” He says, laughing a little.

Spoke frowns.

“I think we did.”

“Why do you say that?”

Spoke doesn’t respond for a second.

“We’re like— we’re like, basically brothers if you think about it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think we were once. Actual brothers.”

Wemmbu laughs.

“Sure bro, sure.”

Spoke rolls his eyes, and goes back to spinning in his chair. The topic never got brought back up.

…

It’s late by the time Wemmbu gets back to the dorm, late enough that Flame is already asleep in his bed.

Wemmbu quickly changes and flops onto his bed, the exhaustion from the past few days hitting him all at once.

Rejoice had texted him earlier, letting him know that he was alright, and well enough to hang out with him and Egg the next day. Wemmbu was glad the guy was ok.

He was asleep in record time, 30 seconds.

…

Wemmbu had been at the pool with Egg for 2 hours now, both kids speed walking across the pool deck towards the diving boards, because if they ran, the lifeguard would whistle and yell at them.

Wemmbu glanced at the lap-lane pool, where usually only old people swam laps.

But not today.

Today, there seemed to be a younger guy in the water, maybe 16 years old. And to an 8-year old, 16 was pretty old.

The guy was swimming really, really fast. Faster than Wemmbu had ever seen.

So he stood there and watched. Egg had tried to get him to leave, but he didn’t want to. So, eventually, Egg just left to go off the diving boards himself.

And Wemmbu watched.

He knows that the guy saw him, but he didn’t care.

And Wemmbu decided right in that very moment, that he wanted to be just like the guy in the water. He wanted to be that fast.

Eventually, the guy got out of the water and took his cap off, grabbing a towel before walking over to Wemmbu.

“Need something, kid?” He asks, smiling faintly at him.

“I— uh— you’re like, really, really fast.” He said, looking at the floor. “How’d you do that?”

“Practice, bro. Many, many years of practice.”

“I wanna be like you” he says before he can stop himself.

The guy laughs. “Well then! There’s a swim team here, at this pool that you could join, if you really want to. I help coach when I’m not practicing.”

“Really!?” He says, looking up in excitement.

“I mean, unless I'm lying straight to your face and you’d never know.”

Wemmbu gaped at him.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. Name’s Manepear by the way.”

“I’m Wemmbu!”

…

Mane was really bad at hiding that he had a favourite in the group he coached.

It was so painfully obvious that it was Wemmbu.

He was 12 now, and already the fastest in his group. He had insanely good times for how young he was, and he was only getting better.

He listened, he worked hard, and he was driven by a want to be like his favourite coach.

…

He stopped improving at 15.

Maybe it was because he stopped listening, stopped taking practice seriously, stopped caring as much as he used to.

Mane used to take him to the pool every Sunday— the only ‘off day’ for swimmers— just to give him one on one practices.

He stopped doing that.

…

Mane left that year.

They got into an argument.

Mane called him a lost cause.

And then he was gone.

…

Flame transferred to his team a month after that.

And suddenly, Wemmbu wasn’t the best on his team.

And it only seemed like he was getting worse and worse, while everyone around him only got better.

…

It was like that for an entire 2 years.

It was only when Minute took him in, that he realized something had to change.

…

He made a bunch of huge meets for the first time at 18. A year after he started trying again.

Scholarships for big name schools started getting proposed to him.

But he decided to go to a more local school with all his friends.

His parents weren't happy.

But he was.

…

He is close to the world record.

Maybe he’ll get it, maybe he won’t.

Who knows.

All Wemmbu cares about is proving that he isn’t a lost cause.

That Mane was wrong.

…

Wemmbu doesn’t do much the next day, mainly just scrolling on his phone or occasionally getting up just to move around.

It’s usually what he does on the rare occasion he’s free on Sundays, usually he’s doing homework last minute.

But today, he’s free until 5, when he has to go meet up with Rejoice and Egg. Egg has been talking about how he got reservations to this restaurant that apparently has all kinds of history.

Wemmbu could not care less about that.

But, he gets to hang out with his friends, so it's worth listening to Egg drone on and on about history.

…

“...Apparently the king at the time once walked these very floors.” Egg was saying as the three walked up to the entrance of the restaurant.

“There used to be a king?” Rejoice replied,

“Well, there were many tyrants and dictators, but he was the first voted upon ruler.”

“The first?”

“He was overthrown by an opposing faction, leading to a second king.”

“...Was there ever a third?”

“It’s not very clear. The notes near the end seem very frantic, I believe there was a third king, but nobody survived to tell the story.”

“Woah… imagine living through all that.”

Wemmbu rolled his eyes. He felt like the only rational person there, because if ‘nobody survived’ the wrath of the third king, then how are any of them here?

“Wemmbu, don’t roll your eyes!” Rejoice said, lightly hitting him on the arm.

“Brother, this is history! It is not something to laugh over!” Egg ridiculed.

“I didn’t even laugh!” Wemmbu— well— laughed.

“You did just now!” Rejoice quipped, smiling sweetly at him.

“D’alright” he responds, opening the door to let Egg and Rejoice in.

…

“...And I’ll be your server today.” Deadpanned the waiter that led them to their table. His name tag said Boomie.

The waiter— Bommie— kept glancing at Wemmbu weirdly, as if he knew him. Wemmbu, as far as he knew, did not know him.

They ordered food, and Boomie left.

The three were sitting at a table outside, underneath a canopy of trees. All the trees had fairy lights strung on them, twinkling in and out like stars in the night sky.

It was really pretty.

“Don’t you have an important meet soon?” Rejoice asks him.

Yeah. The most important one I’ll probably ever swim in my life.

“In a few weeks, yeah,” Wemmbu replies instead.

“Are you swimming the usual?”

Wemmbu nods before saying, “I think I’ll be racing right next to Flame in the 400 too”

“You gotta beat him!” Rejoice giggled.

“Easy.” He replies,

“You’ve lost to him like, 100 times bro.” Egg says.

“Whose side are you on?!” He hissed, glaring playfully at Egg, who started giggling.

Rejoice pretended not to smile as he took a sip of his lemonade.

“I hate you all.” Wemmbu said, but he was smiling.

“Even me!?” Rejoice gasped, mock hurt flashing across his face.

Egg and Wemmbu burst out laughing upon seeing the look on Rejoice’s face.

A few minutes later, the food came. The three fell into comfortable silence as they ate, only filled by the occasional giggles.

The food itself wasn’t all that good for how difficult it was to get a reservation, but it was still worth it.

Egg and Rejoice were deep into another conversation about the servers history, and Rejoice knew a surprising amount about it.

Even stuff Egg didn’t know, which was funny to him.

Wemmbu mainly listened to them, as he knew more about what trees dropped apples than the history of the server.

Somewhere, someone was setting off fireworks. He could slightly see the pretty colours peaking through the trees.

It reminded him of a memory from the day he graduated high school, at a party he was dragged to by Flame.

“Where did you get sparklers from!?” He asked as Rejoice held out one of the flammable sticks to him.

They were outside on the driveway, having gone out there to get away from all the people inside.

Egg had refused to go with Wemmbu as emotional support, so Rejoice offered to instead. But the both of them disliked claustrophobic places, so they ended up outside.

“Found them!” Rejoice grinned mischievously.

Wemmbu decided not to question it as Rejoice somehow also had a lighter.

He lit his own sparkler first, watching it for a second before turning to light Wemmbu’s.

The two stood there, silently watching their respective fireworks, until Rejoices ran out.

“Awhhh” Rejoice pouted, and Wemmbu started giggling when his own ran out right in the middle of the stick.

“Bro.” He frowned, and then it was Rejoice’s turn to burst into laughter.

…

Speaking of Rejoice, the guy looked a bit better than the last time Wemmbu saw him. Still sick, and he was still coughing, but better.

And better was better than worse.

Say that 5 times fast.

“...It took the scholars years to decode that book.” Egg was excitedly telling Rejoice as the three walked out of the restaurant again.

“What did it say?” Rejoice asked

“Even I, the great lorekeeper, am not allowed to know that.” Egg replied.

“D’alrighttt” Wemmbu laughed.

Wemmbu waved as he walked to his car, both Egg and Rejoice waving back. The two shared a dorm, so they usually just took one car if they were going somewhere together.

He smiled as he once again got into his car. He really did like hanging out with his friends, but he never has time.

When he goes back to the pottery place to paint the clay he and Rejoice made will probably be the last time he sees the guy until after that meet he has soon.

…

The dorm is quiet when he walks inside, with all the lights off. He flicks on a switch, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

Wemmbu sighs as he sits on the couch, grabbing the remote and pulling up some youtube documentary.

He didn’t really pay attention to it, instead he kind of just zoned out. Thinking.

About the ‘memories’, or whatever they were.

He decides to call them fragments.

He doesn’t know why they happen, sometimes it feels like it’s triggered by a thought or action. But then again, sometimes it’s unprompted.

As if something or someone is triggering the fragments.

But that wouldn’t make sense, would it?

…This is making his head hurt.

So he leans back and covers his eyes with his arm, deciding to sleep for a little bit.

…

He wakes to the sound of the door creaking open, and he sits up as Flame walks inside. Neither of them say anything as the guy comes over and sits next to Wemmbu on the couch.

Wemmbu doesn’t complain as Flame switches the documentary to something more interesting. Wemmbu didn’t really care about some king in piss or whatever anyways.

They sit in silence for a bit, neither wanting to break the rare peace.

Until Wemmbu’s phone started ringing.

He curses under his breath, grabbing his phone out of his pocket.

“Who is it?” Flame asks.

“...Egg?” He replies, confusion lining his face.

Flame pauses the video.

“Do you want me to leave or…”

Wemmbu shakes his head no as he answers.

“Hello? Egg? What's up?” He asks,

“Wemmbu, brother, something happened. I’m at the hospital— don’t worry I’m fine— but…” Egg says, frantically.

Which is concerning on its own. Egg is never frantic. He is convinced that it would ‘ruin his aura’. Or something.

“What happened?” He questions, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s— It’s Rejoice. He’s, like, sick or something, I don’t know. We were driving back to the dorm, and he just randomly started coughing— and it wasn’t like a ‘I’m stupid and I choked on water’ cough, it was a ‘bro you are coughing up literal… I don’t even know’!”

Wemmbu’s heart dropped, and his face fell.

“I’ll be there— give me like 20 minutes.” He muttered, hanging up.

He dropped his arm to his side as Flame stood up.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Rejoice is in the hospital.” Wemmbu replied.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Wemmbu then went to grab his keys.

“I should go.” He said, walking towards the door.

“I— yeah. You do that bro. I’ll, uh, I’ll be here. If you need me.”

Wemmbu nodded and left, walking to his car as fast as he could. The drive was quiet, the only sound being heard was that of the tires on the road and Wemmbu’s spiraling thoughts.

I should have told him not to come. Wemmbu thought, I should have paid more attention that night.

He shook his head. Dwelling on ‘should-haves’ wouldn’t help the situation. So he continued to drive, refraining from speeding.

The last thing he needed was a speeding ticket.

Wemmbu clutched the steering wheel, knuckles turning white at the force of it. He was worried.

He felt like he might be sick.

Wemmbu kept driving.

…

There were a lot of people in the waiting room. Some with masks on, some not. The bright lights and white walls were blinding him as he walked up to the front desk.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” A very sweet-looking lady asked him.

“I— my friends here.” He answered, trying not to look as stressed as he felt.

“What’s their name?” She questioned.

“Rejoice— or, Rejoicin is his full name.”

The lady nodded again.

“Alright, he should be in room 410!” She smiled.

He thanked her and left, making his way to the elevator. Which felt claustrophobic. Each ding of the metal box passing each floor only made his heart pound harder.

He fidgeted with his hoodie strings as he waited, relaxing only slightly when the metal cube of death doom and despair stopped on the 4th floor.

Wemmbu quickly walked over to the room the lady said Rejoice was in, and Egg was standing outside the door.

Although the other was trying to look nonchalant, Wemmbu could tell he was stressing.

“Hey.” He said, still fidgeting with his hoodie.

“Hi.” Egg replied.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Wemmbu tried to joke.

Neither of them laughed. Only silence filled the hallway.

“You can go in. If you want.” Egg says, “the doctor will be back soon with news. I’m leaving though, it’s late and I have to study for a huge test tomorrow. Pray for me bro.”

“I will bro, I will.” Wemmbu nodded, opening the door and stepping into the room. It smelled like hand sanitizer and metal.

Rejoice was laying in a hospital bed in the middle of the room, head turned to the side and hair stuck to his face from the sweat pooling on his forehead. His eyes were shut, eyebrows crinkling in pain.

He was frowning, face pulled into a pained scowl that physically hurt Wemmbu to see.

He looked… small. Scared, even.

So unlike the boy he knew.

The one that would get excited over a flower.

The one that snuck sparklers into parties.

The one that always had a smile plastered onto his face.

Rejoice cracked an eye open, smiling slightly when he saw who it was. The boy sat up slightly, wincing in pain as Wemmbu walked over to the side of the bed.

“‘How was your day?’ Oh nothing much I just had to rush to the hospital ‘cause one of my best friends got deathly sick, how was yours?” He joked.

Rejoice giggled, holding a hand to his mouth as he started coughing.

His face scrunched up again.

He visibly shivered.

Wemmbu waited.

Rejoice coughed up what looked like liquid skulk.

Wemmbu waited.

Tears fell down the boy's face and onto the blanket.

Wemmbu rubbed circles into his back.

And he waited.

It sounded like Rejoice was coughing up his lungs.

And Wemmbu waited.

The coughs died down.

Not fully.

But enough.

Wemmbu grabbed some tissues from the bedside table.

Handed it to Rejoice.

Who wiped off his face.

“Didn’t think I’d be sitting in a hospital bed coughing up skulk at 11:30 today” Rejoice rasped, voice scratchy.

And yet, he still smiled, even with tears streaming down his face.

He still smiled.

Wemmbu slightly giggled, trying to keep the worry out of his face.

“Don’t be worried, Wem! Give me a week and I’ll be good as new!”

“You’d better be, you still have to time at the meet,” he joked.

Wemmbu didn’t actually care if Rejoice timed or not, as long as he was ok.

“I’ll be the loudest cheerer there!” He giggles.

“Rejoice bro, that's not a word.”

“Nuh-uh! No making fun of me while I’m hospitalized!”

Wemmbu rolls his eyes, slightly smiling at the others grin.

…

A knock at the door interrupts their conversation.

A man walks in, and Wemmbu can only assume that he’s the doctor.

“Hello, I’m back with the results of all the tests we took.” The man says.

Rejoice sits up straighter.

Wemmbu fidgets.

“It seems to me that you have an extremely rare condition called skolka. It would explain the fact that you have been coughing up something called skulk.”

Rejoice nods.

“Will I be okay?” He asks, voice small as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

The doctor's eyes saddened.

…

“The average lifespan of someone with this condition is only a few weeks.” He says, “I’m sorry.”

…

The room goes very quiet.

Wemmbu’s heart drops.

He stops fidgeting.

“...What?” He whispers.

Rejoice is frozen, still processing the words.

“There has to be something we can do.” Wemmbu says.

The doctor only shakes his head yet again.

“I’m sorry.”

Well sorry Isn’t going to cut it, is it?

Wemmbu looks at Rejoice, watching his face change and switch through emotion after emotion.

Before finally landing on acceptance.

Just like that.

Wemmbu blinked.

“I’ll leave you guys alone.” The man says, turning to leave.

Wemmbu blinks.

Nothing we can do.

…

“It’ll be alright.” Rejoice says eventually.

But how could it?

How could it be alright?

How could anything be alright when the whole world feels like it's caving in around him.

“No, Rejoice, it won’t be alright. You can’t leave. You can’t.” He said.

Rejoice only smiled at him.

“It will. I promise you.”

And then Wemmbu laughed.

“I’m the one who's supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around” he giggled, quickly wiping his eyes when he noticed a tear falling.

“Don’t cry Wem, I’ll still haunt you as a ghost.” Rejoice smiled.

“...But it won’t be the same…” He whispered.

Because nothing will be the same.

Nothing will be the same ever again.

…

“Sometimes, change is okay.”

“Not without you.”

…

“I’m sorry that I’ll miss your meet.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

…

“I guess I won’t be able to paint the sunflower I made.”

“I’ll bring it here. Buy paint. We still can.”

…

“...Why?”

“Just because you’re sick in a hospital doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He doesn’t use the word dying.

It makes it seem all too real.

…

“You should go. You need sleep.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

…

“You’re not. You’ll be back tomorrow anyways. I know you will.”

“...Goodnight Rejoice.”

“Goodnight Wemmbu.”

…

The car ride is somehow quieter.

He knows he has to tell Egg.

He will after the guy is done with his test.

It would be cruel of him to tell before then.

…

He turns up the radio.

Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie,

Is the most effective way to deal with things

You have no control over.

Parks his car.

Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you.

Overanalyze every single word you hear.

Was this a sign that things were going wrong?

No, no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them.

Walks up the stairs.

Stay up every single night staring at your phone.

Either attempting to gather up the courage to turn these demons,

These constant reminders of your loneliness,

Into nothing more than a bad dream.

Opens the door.

Or praying just for one second

You could feel the warmth of equally returned love.

Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself,

Always bring your notebook, never stop writing.

Flame is sitting at the table.

Still awake.

Waiting.

Leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip.

Watch them smile as you get in your car.

Flame looks at him.

Really looks at him.

Concern lines his face.

It’s not a good look on someone usually so careless.

Talk down on yourself whenever possible.

My life is shit because I deserve it, right?

You must have done something really bad.

It's nearly impossible for you to cry now.

“What happened?” He asked.

Such a simple question.

Such a simple question for such a life altering answer.

Avoid your friends for weeks even though

They're the only sense of consistency you have left in your life.

If they really wanted to see you they'd come, but they won't.

Who cares?

Wemmbu blinks.

How is he supposed to explain?

That one of his closest friends is—

Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love.

Watch as you begin to take a backseat.

To the world around you, don't fight it.

Become a secondary character in your own motion picture.

“Hello? Bro?”

Wemmbu blinks again.

But most importantly,

Drown every single one of your feelings in old stolen rum.

Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat.

Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach.

You're drinking bottled love now.

Flame stands up

Walks over to him.

Wraps his arms around him.

You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness,

You just needed to find a way to talk to it.

“He’s going to die.”

He whispers.

His voice cracks.

Tears spill.

Flame doesn’t care.

He only holds him.

…

_____________

Calling Egg wasn’t fun.

He was upset that Wemmbu didn’t tell him right away, but he understood anyway.

…

…The next two weeks went by in a blur.

Wemmbu and Egg spent almost if not all of their time at the hospital, to be there for their friend.

Rejoice looked happy as he ever was, and the three of them smiled and laughed with each other like nothing was wrong.

They ignored the looming threat of Rejoice’s sickness.

…

“...I’m going to miss you.” Wemmbu said softly, late one night.

Rejoice looked at him and smiled. He did that a lot.

“Don’t. You’ll see me again someday”

Wemmbu frowned.

“I don’t want to wait. You know I’m impatient.”

“Well, you’ll just have to learn.”

…

Rejoice scoots over in his bed, patting the open spot next to him.

“Sit, you’ve been standing still for like 2 hours now.”

Wemmbu sits next to him.

Rejoice pulls out his phone, inserting headphones into the headphone jack.

“Here.” He says, handing Wemmbu one side.

He takes it.

Rejoice plays a playlist and leans his head on Wemmbu’s shoulder.

Wemmbu hums, brushing a piece of hair out of the boy's sweat-striken face.

The evil it spread like a fever ahead

It was night when you died, my firefly.

“Wemmbu I don’t wanna die.” Rejoice whispers, hand finding his own. “I like this life.”

“I don’t want you to die either.” He responds.

What could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?

“I wanted to become a lawyer. I wanted to see you break a world record. I wanted to see you beat Flame. I wanted to get a house with you and Egg. I wanted to plant sunflowers in the front yard.” He sniffled.

Wemmbu thinks his heart might just shatter.

He wanted to make a joke.

But he just couldn’t.

“I’ll break the record. I’ll beat Flame. I’ll still get a house with Egg. And— and I’ll still plant sunflowers in the front.”

Well you do enough talk

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Tears logged in his throat. He wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not when someone still needs him.

Wemmbu holds onto Rejoice's hand, giving it a squeeze.

As if to say.

I’m here.

I’m here and I won't leave.

And I’ll never leave.

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

We're all gonna die.

“I know you will.”

Silence.

Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head

Was it all a disguise, like Junior High

“Wemmbu— Wemmbu it hurts. I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

He sounded like a little kid.

…He was only 20.

Too young to have his life ripped from his grasp.

It wasn’t fair— isn’t fair.

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction

Now, where am I?

My fading supply

“I know.”

Was all he could say.

Did you get enough love, my little dove

Why do you cry?

“Please. Please make it stop.” He whispers, likely to himself.

Wemmbu hears anyways.

And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best

Though it never felt right

My little Versailles

Wemmbu runs his hands through Rejoice’s hair, trying to comfort him.

His heart pangs.

He’d do anything if it meant Rejoice would be okay again.

He didn’t deserve this.

The hospital asked should the body be cast

Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky

“It’ll be over soon.” He whispers instead.

They both can feel it.

The way Rejoice’s breaths sound more like rasps.

Like he’s reaching for something just out of reach.

Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?

“Will you be alright?” Rejoice asked. “When I’m gone. Will you be able to move on?”

…

“No. But I can try.”

It's truth.

Raw, ugly, truth.

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Why do you cry?

Rejoice closes his eyes.

Make the most of your life, while it is rife

While it is light

Wemmbu hums, continuing to run his hand through Rejoice’s hair.

He can pretend to be calm.

It could be the most he can do.

Well you do enough talk

My little hawk, why do you cry?

Rejoice’s breaths become far and few between.

Wemmbu doesn’t try to stop the tears that fall.

He continues to hum.

He refuses to let the last thing Rejoice hears be his own sorrow.

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?

Or the Fourth of July?

Wemmbu doesn’t stop when his breaths stop.

We're all gonna die

He doesn’t stop when the machine starts beeping wildly.

We're all gonna die

Doesn’t stop when the horrid sound covers his own.

We're all gonna die

Not even when Rejoice goes limp.

We're all gonna die

Forever unmoving.

We're all gonna die

Forever unable to see the sun.

We're all gonna die

To watch his favourite flowers grow.

We're all gonna die

To watch fireworks light up the sky

We're all gonna die

To love.

…

Wemmbu doesn’t know how long he sat there, crying.

The music was still playing.

Not knowing that Wemmbu’s sun died.

…

Flame was at the table again.

He did that a lot.

Waiting.

For Wemmbu to get back.

Just in case.

…

Flame saw the tears on his face.

The pain in his eyes.

…

Flame hugged him tight.

Held him.

Even as he sobbed into his arms.

…

It was nice.

But Flame would never be Rejoice.

…

He called Egg.

Still sniffling.

…It was not a fun phone call.

…

Wemmbu didn’t sleep that night.

He felt selfish.

To be able to stare at the ceiling when Rejoice couldn’t open his eyes ever again.

…

Flame still made him eat.

He didn’t want to.

All he felt was guilt.

…

He knows it’s not his fault.

It still doesn’t stop the regret.

…

The hospital gave him the little clay sunflower.

Painted.

Like Wemmbu promised they would do.

He set it on his nightstand.

…

Minute told him he didn’t have to go to practice.

He did anyway.

He cried in the water a lot.

Nobody sees your tears when you cry into a much bigger body of water.

…

He didn’t go to Minute’s house that Saturday.

…

The days of the meet blurred.

He was really only focused on the 400 IM.

He was now getting ready for said race, shaking out his limbs and trying to think about anything but Rejoice.

“You ready to lose, bro?” Flame asked, smirking at him.

Wemmbu grinned.

“Nah, I’d win.”

He had to win. For Rejoice. He said he wanted to see Wemmbu beat Flame. And Wemmbu was determined to do just that.

…

3 short whistles ring out, and Wemmbu breaths.

In and out.

For Rejoice.

1 long whistle.

He gets on the blocks, shooting Flame another look.

“Take your mark!”

He does.

A beep rings out across his head and he shoots off the block.

His heart is pounding as he kicks underwater, breaking the surface and giving the race all he has.

For Rejoice.

Usually, he is behind on the first bit of this race.

Not this time.

His muscles burn as he fights to stay neck and neck with Flame.

He turns at the wall.

Turns again.

And again.

He can’t see past his own thoughts, drowning him.

He can’t breathe.

He wants to stop.

For Rejoice.

He turns again.

Still in front.

He grits his teeth.

He can hear the screams of the crowd around him.

And while he can’t hear anyone in specific, he knows that Spoke and Minute are yelling for him. Egg likely isn’t, still too obsessed with having aura.

…He thinks Rejoice is yelling the loudest.

Somewhere.

And that thought alone gives him another burst of energy.

He sprints harder than he ever has before, the end in his sight.

He slams into the wall and rips his goggles off, panting.

He hears Flame finish next to him as he tries to catch his breath.

Wemmbu takes his cap off and turns to look at the board.

Place Lane Swimmer Team Time

1 …

2 …

3 …

2 4 Flame Fr… UU 3:32.14

1 5 Wemmbu… UU 3:29.54

6 …

7 …

8 …

He blinks.

He went 3 seconds faster than his best time.

And he beat Flame.

He can hear Spoke cheering somewhere in the back of his mind.

He closes his eyes.

“You did good, Wemmbu!” Rejoice would say.

“I’m proud of you.”

His heart tightens.

But for now, Wemmbu smiles.

And he thinks about owning a little house with Egg, planting sunflowers in the front yard, and watching fireworks go off.

For Rejoice.

Always for Rejoice.

Notes:

I’m sorry this is so ass bro (I say that about everything I write I’m noticing)

Rejoice kill counter: 3
Spoke kill counter: 3
How many UU fics I’ve written: 6

I have favourites ok?

Also the only reason this fic exists is because I was thinking about how STUPID Wemmbu would look in a swim cap during practice,,, so uh yeah 😭😭😭

ALSO ALSO!!! Boomie is NOT plot relevant to this series, I just love his lore a lot and if you know it then you understand,,,

No I’m not telling you how to solve the code in the summary

I finally get to write pt4 I’m so fucking excited,,, also this is a good place to say that this series is inspired by an AMAZING fic called wanweird, it’s so fucking good oh my god bro go read it it’s my fav fic ever

Everything will finally be explained in pt4 😛😛😛

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I know some of this may be confusing, and I’ll answer what I can ^^

Also I have a Pinterest! My user is Rivvertheriv and my display name is the Egyptian transportation system drowned my pet apple,,, don’t ask bro I know it’s odd,,,

OKOKOK BYE BUE BUE!!!

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