Chapter Text
Lomedy knew.
Ever since Lomedy found out, he's always known.
Flame would be dead.
Slowly but surely.
His best friend, would eventually die, walking a path that'll lead to a dead end every corner he turns.
The roots would inevitably consume him, his soul, his heart, ingesting him fully. Lomedy was sure, because his stupid love life isn't as important as his life apparently.
All because of some stupid crowned mace wielder that he's bound to always fight with. Why does he have such a stupid best friend? He genuinely ponders sometimes.
Flame was fighting a losing battle, hell he's not even fighting it! He's just letting himself take hits without a shield equipped?!
He knows. Yet he's aware he's still gonna break down when he sees Flame, foaming at the mouth with lilies.
Him loving Wemmbu is lethal.
Yet he can't do anything about it.
He goes to his room that's in Flame base, spare cause he practically lives here now.
Lomedy opens his journal he writes in constantly from time to time, starting with an entry.
— Dear , Diary .
"I don't get what Flame see's in Wemmbu, honestly. All they've done is just go against each other's every move. Every counterclaim, every battle, every stolen material, every single insult they've ever thrown at each other. Flame views it as affection, but what about Wemmbu? What does he think? I just want Flame to snap out of it. It'd be better if he got them surgically removed. But this stupid, naive, hopeless romantic wants to keep waiting upon his death, instead of living his life and forgetting everything ever happened? I genuinely need him to open his eyes so bad, man up and just confess to Wemmbu. But he's too pussy for that ay? I wanna open his eyes for him but—"
He kept writing, venting everything out on the double sided piece of paper inside the book, filled with thousands of more journal entries. He kept writing, writing and writing while adding small doodles of him and Flame on the sides.
He wrote until the whole page was filled.
"— I love Flame with my whole heart. More than Ashen, more than this farm, more than everything. And if I can't save him, then I'm willing to go down this drag path with him."
He gets up from his desk, heading towards the mirror that's on his closet door.
He puts his hand on the mirror, leaving a print of pen ink from his coloring from the doodling.
Taking off his cardigan, shirt following after. Lomedy glances at his upper body.
There were scars.
Everywhere.
His healed scars, recent ones, a healed gash on his stomach from a battle he fought alongside Flame, and more following on his wrist.
He wears a long sleeve for a reason.
He unlocked his drawer on his nightstand.
Inside were bandages, and blades. He grabbed one, closed the blinds, made sure the doors were locked, and sat back down at his desk with his journal still open.
There was still a little bit of blank space.
He had an unhealed wound, but he could care less. Grabbing the blade, he reopened a wound on his forearm.
From the drawer from under the desk, he reached for his glass dip pen. He used the blood that was on the knife, not from his wound cause he obviously doesn't wanna get an infection.
He planned to stop there, but the stinging pain felt— oh. So good.
New and fresh wounds formed around his wrists. Wiping the blood slightly, he grabbed the pen that had the tip covered in blood that belonged to him.
"— I would die for Flame. If he won't be here anymore, there wouldn't be any need for my existence either."
Remember when he said that Flame loving Wemmbu was lethal?
Yeah.
Lomedy loving Flame was also lethal.
As the blood that was in substitute for ink was fading, he dipped the pen in a glass of water, cleaning it and putting it back in the drawer. He closed his drawer, closing his journal, locking it with a tiny lock it came with.
He applied vaseline on his cuts, bandaging them and locking the blade back in the nightstand.
Flame, why are you like this?
🔥
He didn't know what stage he was on.
Within each hour, the coughing hinders his inventory organizing, preparations, everything he does.
Ever since venting to Lomedy, he's managed to choke out about 4 — 5 full lilies.
His lungs ache.
He's started to feel the need for love, affection, romantic attraction that he yet, could never achieve.
Inside him, there's only emptiness. The only entity being the pointless flowers he couldn't stand. Not for the feeling, but because his feelings are unreciprocated by the other.
Even if he's unsure how badly his situation has worsened, he knows times almost up.
That's why he asked Wemmbu for one last duel.
He wonders if Wemmbu would miss him.
Would he be mad at Flame for not telling him?
I mean—
He had to love someone that much to hate them too.
In Flame's point of view, him and Wemmbu are very similar. He thinks about this a lot. The way they clash so perfectly against each other, countering and predicting each other through their weaknesses.
But they also had their differences. The way his elegance contradicts his gracelessness. The way the mace is held in his delicate hands. But there's Flame. His grip tightening, wind charges in the wrong direction, clumsy breach swapping.
Maybe they were different in mace terms.
As he finishes preparing, he checks the time. 19:34 (7:34). The sun is about to set, yet he waits patiently.
He's started to worry that Wemmbu woulnd't show up.
If that was the case, Flame's chest might just ache more.
As he thinks about it, he manages to cough up more lilies.
He really is hopeless.
🔮
Wemmbu hated Flame.
With a burning passion.
Yet he tolerates him.
If Flame actually loved him, then that means he's suffered. Suffered for weeks for feelings that Wemmbu didn't even know was present.
The look Flame gives him every time they see each other.
Duels, fights, insults, comparisons.
But Wemmbu knew this would be the last duel they would have.
Unless he could undo the disease.
But would that be possible with Flame's current state of health?
Flame has once told him, his favorite flowers are Spider Lilies.
He knows why now.
The lilies represent Wemmbu.
One meaning of the lily was reincarnation.
They're practically the same soul inside different bodies.
With clearance, a rocket can be heard being set off.
Wemmbu spreads his elytra, charging into the sky towards the direction of the warm—colored mesa biome.
🔥
Flame waits in his familiar trims, leaning on Fragger that was stabbed onto the red sand, inching away from teracotta.
After a few more minutes, he sees a purple figure approaching from a certain direction in the distant sky.
Like a tradition, he easily dodges the full—charged head on mace attack.
Every time they agree to a duel, Wemmbu always arrives with a sneak up.
As Fragger and Crucible clash against each other, Wemmbu applies more pressure towards his blow, sending Flame backwards and making distance between them.
"Geez what's up your ass today bro? What's your elytra dura? Must've took some time flying here." Flame says this with enthusiasm, raising his sword and pointing towards Wemmbu. "Mend up. I need you full power for this duel."
To Flame's surprise, Wemmbu just —
Stared.
Nothing more. Just looked at him with this blank expression, clearly showing that something was wrong.
"Yo . . youu good bro ? —"
"Why Flame?" Wemmbu asked, bolding the why, clearly irritated on a certain topic. "Why challenge me to a duel that you'll struggle relentlessly in? Why let yourself suffer more than you already have?" Wemmbu exclaimed that last part while approaching Flame.
Flame stood there, stunned like how shocked he was when Lomedy found out about his disease.
Does Wemmbu know?
Flame thought.
Wemmbu waved his sword in front of Flames face multiple times, trying to get a reaction out of him due to him zoning out for a while.
"Eaaarrth to Flame dude. I want a genuine answer from you, Flamefrags."
It felt really weird hearing Wemmbu called him his full name. They've never been formal with each other, always stupid nicknames coated with insults or just making fun of each other. Full name? Flame doesn't like it.
Why is everyone spreading the fact that he has the disease like it's a rumor?
This basically counts as betrayal.
He hates being betrayed.
The amount of times he's been betrayed is just as unhealthy as him. The outcome never changes, the betrayed stays betrayed.
"It's none of your business bro. Are we fighting or not? Sparring always leads one of us to injury, we'll just bandage up! We'll be fine!" Flame insists, he's really eager for the duel, and anyone could tell.
Is Flame embracing his fate, or does he honestly crave a duel?
He's walking willingly into his death, his heart burning for a duel.
"Why do you want to duel me so badly?" Wemmbu soon landed a hit, following with a combo that Flame shielded, and countered.
They went back and forth, from Wemmbu's unexpected duel-macing to attribute swapping, combo loops that Wemmbu eventually broke out of.
Flame was about to land another strike, as he felt the pressure in his chest holding him back.
He steps away from Wemmbu, glaring at him with love-hatred through his blindfold. His heterochromic eyes start spiraling, coughing violently, worse than before. He soon falls into his knees, hands on the ground, keeping him up. Grass staining with his own vital fluids as he clenches his eyes shut, letting the lily envelope inside him.
"I just don't understand why you still want to fight when you're in this state, Flame." Wemmbu stares down at Flame, almost as if he's the superior one. "Flame. I know. I just want you to admit it."
"Admit what?! Admitting something you already know?! You're just— trying to get me to embarrass myself .. ?"
"Flame."
"Just stop."
Wemmbu paused, Flame paused.
Flame looked up at Wemmbu, undoing the knot at the back of his head that's connected to the blindfold.
Their eyes met, Wemmbu could see the setting sunlight reflecting off Flame's watery eyes.
"Don't you get it?!" Flame suddenly shouted, attempting to stand up while he depends on his sword.
"I love you so much, Wemmbu. I love you so much to the point I hate you. I don't why my heart insists so badly on staying attracted to you, while I'm aware of my current disease consuming me." Flame said all this with an aching feeling in his heart still. He approaches Wemmbu with a slight smug.
"Wemmbu. I want to be the best and worst person you've ever met."
"You could stab me a million times, and I'd crawl to you, apologizing for dirtying your sword."
"I want to duel you so bad, because we both know this is my last duel.
"I know you see our similarities. Our differences. We both indiffer. But one difference is the way we attract. I love you, yet you'll only return the feelings once you actually find out about my feelings."
Flame's slowly losing it, he's approaching Wemmbu as the sun's brim almost disappears off the world.
"You wouldn't return the feelings either. I know you. You feel guilty you didn't see the signs clearer, you're worried you'll hurt me even more than I already am."
Wemmbu has nothing to say, he just stares at Flame, letting him conclude his speech. He unequips his mace, he lets Flame rest his hands on Wemm's shoulder.
"I hope you know the damage you've done without realizing anything." Flame finishes with a cough, gripping his chest as he coughs out a lily in front of Wemmbu, tears eventually dropping to the floor.
Wemmbu catches the lily this time.
Instead of crushing the lily, stepping on it, anything negativity Flame thinks,
He gives it a kiss.
Flame understands.
But it's too late.