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The guest room was quiet except for the distant creak of the house settling and the soft whisper of wind against the windows.
Wemmbu stood by the window, arms crossed tight over his chest, his claws retracted but ready beneath his skin—a constant presence he could never quite forget. The moonlight caught the edges of his frame. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, and he hated what he saw.
Behind him, he could feel Jaden's presence in the doorway. The siren hadn't left since they'd arrived at the Pirate Civilisation, hadn't pressed him with questions or demands. Just... stayed.
It was unsettling in a way Wemmbu couldn't quite articulate. People didn't just stay with him. They used him, feared him, or tried to kill him. Those were the options. There wasn't supposed to be a fourth.
"You didn't have to do that," Wemmbu said finally, voice sharp enough to cut. He didn't turn around. Couldn't. "Save me from the Law."
He heard Jaden shift his weight, the soft rustle of fabric. When the siren spoke, his voice was maddeningly gentle. "I know."
"So why did you?"
Wemmbu turned now, eyes narrowed, searching Jaden's face for the angle, the trap, the reason. There was always a reason.
"What do you want from me, Jaden? You think because you pulled me out of there, I owe you something? My loyalty?”
Jaden leaned against the doorframe, and the moonlight caught the iridescent scales along his jaw, the delicate gills that fluttered with each breath. His head fins were relaxed, not flared in aggression or fear. He looked... tired. Sad, maybe.
"That's not—"
"Because I'm not doing this again, bro."
Wemmbu's voice cracked slightly, though he tried to hide it behind anger. Anger was easier. Anger was safe.
He thought about Prince Zam. Manepear.
His claws threatened to extend, and he forced them back down with effort that made his hands shake.
Jaden's voice stayed gentle, almost too soft, like he was talking to something wounded and wild. "I don't want that, dude. I just want to help you."
"Help me."
Wemmbu laughed, and it was a bitter, broken sound that tasted like ash in his mouth.
"Right. Everyone wants to help me. They all want to help me—"
The words caught in his throat like broken glass. His chest felt too tight, like something was crushing his ribs from the inside. He blinked, once, twice, faster.
His vision was blurring at the edges, and he couldn't—he wouldn't—
"Wemmbu—"
"I'm fine."
But he wasn't. His breath hitched, stuttering in his chest, and he blinked faster, turning his face away sharply. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it.
Fine. He was fine. He had to be fine because if he wasn't fine then he was falling apart and he couldn't afford to fall apart, not now, not ever—
Jaden took a step forward, hand outstretched, and Wemmbu could see the concern written across his features. The siren's arm fins had flattened slightly against his arms, a gesture Wemmbu had learned meant worry.
"Hey—"
Wemmbu jerked back like he'd been burned, stumbling slightly. His hip hit the windowsill and he barely felt it. "Don't."
He needed space. Needed air. Needed to not have someone looking at him like that, like he was something fragile and broken instead of something dangerous and deadly.
His hand braced against the windowsill to steady himself, and that's when his gaze landed on it.
A single sunflower in a small clay pot.
Yellow petals, bright even in the dim light, cheerful and warm and alive. The stem was strong and green, reaching toward a sun it couldn't see in the darkness.
Rejoice had loved sunflowers.
The memory hit him like a physical blow.
Rejoice had been a pacifist. Had believed in peace, in second chances, in the goodness of people even when they didn't deserve it. Had believed in Wemmbu when no one else did.
Rejoice had been good. Everything Wemmbu wasn't. Everything Wemmbu could never be.
And Rejoice was gone.
Gone because of Jaden. Because of this server. Because of the violence and the chaos and the endless, endless cycle of death and destruction that followed Wemmbu like a shadow he could never escape.
The sob tore out of him before he could stop it.
It was an ugly sound, raw and desperate, and it felt like something vital was being ripped from his chest.
Wemmbu's hands came up to cover his face as his shoulders shook, trying to muffle it, trying to push it back down where it belonged, but it was too late.
Another sob followed, then another, until he couldn't hold them back anymore. They just kept coming, wave after wave, drowning him.
His claws extended involuntarily, scraping against his own skin as he tried to muffle the sounds. He felt the sharp sting but didn't care. Couldn't care. Everything hurt too much already for that small pain to register.
He'd tried so hard to keep this locked away. Had built walls so high and so thick that nothing could get through.
But the walls were crumbling now, cracking and falling away like they were made of sand instead of stone, and he couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop any of it.
"Wemmbu..."
Jaden's voice was impossibly soft, like he was afraid speaking too loud would shatter something. Maybe he was right. Maybe Wemmbu was already shattering.
"It's okay."
"It's not—"
Wemmbu choked out between sobs, his voice breaking completely.
"It's not okay, nothing is—nothing's been okay for so long and I can't—I can't do this anymore, I can't—"
The words dissolved into another sob. His knees felt weak. His whole body felt weak, like all the strength that made him dangerous and deadly had just drained away, leaving him hollow and small and scared.
"I know."
Jaden's voice was closer now, though Wemmbu hadn't heard him move.
"I know, dude. But you don't have to do this alone."
Alone. He'd been alone for so long. Even when he was with Egg, he'd been the strong one, the protector, the one who couldn't afford to break.
Egg was his best friend, the only person left who still saw good in him, but Egg was so bad at protecting himself. Wemmbu had to be the strong one. Had to keep the angel safe because Egg couldn't do it on his own.
Wemmbu's breath came in ragged gasps. He couldn't look at Jaden. Couldn't let him see this. But he also couldn't stop.
The sobs just kept coming, tearing through him like a storm, and he was powerless against them.
"Can I..."
Jaden hesitated, and Wemmbu could hear the uncertainty in his voice. The siren was trying so hard to help without pushing, to offer comfort without demanding.
"Do you want a hug? I—"
Wemmbu didn't wait for him to finish.
He didn't think about it, didn't analyze it, didn't question it. He just moved, practically throwing himself forward, crashing into Jaden's chest with enough force to make them both stumble backward a step.
His claws retracted immediately as his hands fisted in Jaden's shirt, gripping so tight the fabric bunched in his fists, and he buried his face against the siren's shoulder.
His body was wracked with sobs, shaking so hard he thought he might fall apart completely.
Jaden's arms came around him immediately, without hesitation, holding him steady like a friend might.
One hand settled between Wemmbu's shoulder blades, warm and solid, the other cradling the back of his head with a gentleness that made Wemmbu want to cry harder.
"I've got you," Jaden murmured, and his voice was so soft, so genuinely caring, that it hurt. "It's okay. I've got you."
Wemmbu shook his head against Jaden's shoulder but didn't pull away. Couldn't.
The warmth, the safety of being held—he hadn't realized how much he needed it until now. Hadn't realized how desperately he'd been craving this, someone to just hold him and tell him it was going to be okay, even if it was a lie.
It was the kind of comfort he'd never had.
Jaden's shirt was getting soaked with tears, and Wemmbu distantly felt bad about that, but he couldn't stop. The sobs kept coming, each one feeling like it was being pulled from the deepest part of him, from places he'd kept locked and buried for years.
He thought about Rejoice. About the way his friend had smiled, had laughed.
About the sunflower that now sat on the windowsill like a memorial to everything Wemmbu had lost.
He thought about Egg, his best friend.
Egg couldn't fight worth a damn, couldn't protect himself, and Wemmbu spent every waking moment terrified that something would happen to him. That the Law would find them and Egg would get caught in the crossfire.
That Wemmbu would lose another person he cared about because he wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't enough.
He thought about all the people he'd hurt, all the blood on his hands, all the bridges he'd burned until he was standing on an island of his own making, alone and isolated and convinced that was what he deserved.
And he thought about Jaden, who should hate him, who had every reason to turn him in, who should want him dead after everything that had happened.
But instead was holding him, protecting him, offering safety without asking for anything in return. Offering friendship when Wemmbu had nothing to give.
It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.
"I'm sorry," Wemmbu gasped out between sobs, the words muffled against Jaden's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
"Shh," Jaden soothed, his hand moving in slow circles on Wemmbu's back, the gesture comforting. "You don't have to apologize. Not for this."
"I killed him."
The confession tore out of Wemmbu like it had been waiting for permission.
"I killed Rejoice. It was my fault. If I hadn't been—if I'd just been better—"
"That wasn't your fault," Jaden said firmly, though his voice stayed gentle. "Wemmbu, that wasn't your fault."
"How can you say that?"
Wemmbu pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Jaden, and he knew his face was a mess—eyes red and swollen, tears still streaming down his face, snot probably running from his nose like a child. He probably looked pathetic. He felt pathetic.
"You killed him, Jaden. You—"
He saw Jaden flinch, saw the pain flash across the siren's features, the guilt that lived there. Jaden's scales seemed to dim slightly, his gills fluttering rapidly.
"I know," Jaden whispered. "I know I did, and I—" His voice cracked. "I carry that with me every day, dude. Every single day."
Wemmbu stared at him, and through his tears, he could see it—the genuine remorse, the weight of what Jaden had done. It wasn't just words. The siren meant it.
"I can't take it back," Jaden continued, his arms still around Wemmbu, still holding him close in that steady, grounding way. "I can't bring him back. I wish I could, but I can't. All I can do is... try to be better. Try to do better. And right now, that means making sure you're okay."
"I'm not okay," Wemmbu said, and it was the most honest thing he'd said in months. Maybe years. "I'm not okay, bro. I don't know if I'll ever be okay."
"That's okay too," Jaden said softly. "You don't have to be okay right now. You just have to be here."
Wemmbu's breath hitched again, fresh tears spilling over. No one had ever told him that before. That it was okay to not be okay.
Everyone always expected him to be strong, to be unbreakable, to be the demon who could handle anything. No one ever gave him permission to just... hurt.
"I miss him," Wemmbu whispered, and his voice broke on the words. "I miss him so much and it hurts and I don't—I don't know what to do with that."
"I know," Jaden said, and he pulled Wemmbu back into the hug, holding him tighter, like an anchor. "I know you do. And that's—that's good, dude. That means he mattered. That he was important to you. That's worth holding onto."
Wemmbu pressed his face back into Jaden's shoulder and let himself cry—really cry—for the first time in longer than he could remember.
Not the angry tears of frustration or rage, but the deep, soul-wrenching sobs of genuine grief. For Rejoice. For himself. For everything he'd lost and everything he'd never had.
Jaden held him through all of it, steady and unwavering, like an anchor in a storm. The siren didn't try to shush him or tell him to stop or hurry him along.
He just... held him. Let him break. Let him grieve. Let him be human for once instead of the person everyone expected him to be.
Time felt strange and liquid. Wemmbu didn't know how long they stood there—minutes, hours, it all blurred together.
Eventually, his sobs began to quiet, not because he was done hurting but because he was simply running out of energy to keep crying. His breath was still hitching, still uneven, but the waves were smaller now, more manageable.
He became aware of other things—the steady rhythm of Jaden's breathing, the faint sound of the siren's heartbeat where his ear was pressed against Jaden's chest, the warmth of being held.
Jaden's scales felt smooth where Wemmbu's face was pressed against his neck, and his gills were fluttering in that slow, calm pattern that meant the siren was at ease.
Wemmbu pulled back slowly, reluctantly. His hands were still gripping Jaden's shirt, and he forced himself to let go, to put a small amount of space between them even though everything in him wanted to collapse back into that embrace and never leave.
He couldn't meet Jaden's eyes. His face felt hot and swollen, and he knew he looked like an absolute mess.
There was no hiding this, no pretending it hadn't happened. Jaden had seen everything now—all the cracks in his armor, all the vulnerability he worked so hard to keep hidden.
"Now you've seen everything," Wemmbu finally whispered, his voice hoarse and broken from crying.
He forced himself to look up at Jaden, even though it felt like exposing his throat to a predator. His eyes were red and swollen, tears still clinging to his lashes, and he'd never felt more exposed in his life.
"Are you... are you going to turn me in to the Law now?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with all the weight of Wemmbu's fear and expectation. This was how it always went, wasn't it?
He showed weakness, showed vulnerability, and people used it against him. The Law would pay handsomely for information on his location, especially now that they'd seen him break down.
Jaden's expression softened immediately, his scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight, his head fins flattening completely against his head in what Wemmbu had learned was an expression of deep emotion.
"No."
The word was simple, absolute, but Wemmbu couldn't accept it. Couldn't let himself believe it.
"But I—I just—"
Wemmbu gestured vaguely at himself, at the mess he'd become.
"No," Jaden repeated, firmer this time.
He reached out and gently took Wemmbu's hands in his own, his webbed fingers careful not to press too hard. The gesture was reassuring, steadying, the way a friend offers support.
"I'm not turning you in, dude. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to protect you and Egg for as long as you need me to. I promise."
Wemmbu stared at their joined hands. Jaden's were cool to the touch, slightly damp from the moisture his skin constantly produced.
They were gentle hands, careful hands, not at all like the violent grip of someone trying to control or hurt him.
"Why?"
The word came out small, broken. Wemmbu's breath hitched again, and he felt fresh tears threatening to spill over.
"Why would you do that? After everything I've done, everything that's happened—why would you want to protect me?"
Jaden was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful and measured, like he was trying to find exactly the right words.
"Because you deserve that," he said simply, and there was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation. "You deserve someone who's not going to use you. Who's not going to hurt you."
His voice dropped to barely a whisper, sincere and honest.
"You deserve to be safe."
The words hit Wemmbu like a physical blow. He'd never—no one had ever—
"I don't deserve that," Wemmbu choked out, pulling one hand free to wipe roughly at his eyes. More tears were falling now, but these felt different somehow. Still painful, still raw, but something else too.
"I've killed people, Jaden. I've hurt so many people. I've destroyed things and—"
"So have I," Jaden interrupted gently. "I killed Rejoice. I've hurt people too. We've all done things we're not proud of on this server."
He squeezed Wemmbu's remaining hand.
"But that doesn't mean we don't deserve a chance to be better. To be safe. To be—" He hesitated. "To be cared about. To have people in our corner."
Wemmbu's vision blurred again. No one had talked to him like this in so long. Like he was a person, not a weapon. Like he mattered beyond what he could do or destroy.
"When I found out it was you," Jaden continued, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of Wemmbu's hand in a comforting gesture, "when I realized you'd faked your death and you were the one who'd been helping me all along—you could have killed me. Everyone said you would. Everyone expected you to."
Wemmbu remembered that moment with painful clarity. The terror and shock in Jaden's eyes when the truth came out. The way the siren had stood there, waiting for death, accepting it because what else could he do?
Wemmbu had been so angry, so ready to add another body to the pile.
But he hadn't.
"You spared me," Jaden said softly. "You didn't just let me live—you promised I could build my pirate civilization in peace. You protected me, dude, even though I'd killed your friend. Even though you had every reason to want me dead."
His scales shimmered, catching the light.
"You showed me mercy when I didn't deserve it. Let me return the favor. Let me be your friend."
"That's different," Wemmbu protested weakly, but his heart wasn't in it. "You're not—you're good, Jaden. You're trying to build something positive. I just destroy things."
"That's not true."
Jaden's voice was firm now, almost fierce in its conviction.
"You're not just a destroyer, dude. You're so much more than that."
Wemmbu couldn't speak. The words were lodged in his throat, tangled up with emotions he didn't know how to name.
Jaden believed in him. Wemmbu could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. The siren genuinely saw something in him worth protecting, worth saving. Worth being friends with.
"I'm scared," Wemmbu admitted, the words barely audible.
It was terrifying to say out loud, to admit weakness like this, but if he was already this vulnerable, what did he have left to lose?
"I'm so scared, bro. The Law wants me dead. Everyone on this server wants to kill me, and I don't—"
His voice cracked.
"I don't know how to keep Egg safe when I can barely keep myself safe. He's my best friend and he's so bad at staying out of trouble. He trusts people he shouldn't, he can't fight, and if something happens to him because of me—"
Jaden's expression softened even further, and he pulled Wemmbu's hand up to press it against his chest, right over his heart. Wemmbu could feel it beating, steady and strong.
"That's why I'm here," Jaden said. "You don't have to do it alone anymore. Let me help. Let me protect you both."
"But what if—"
Wemmbu's breath hitched.
"What if I mess this up? What if the Law finds us and you get caught because of me?"
"Then we'll deal with it together," Jaden said simply. "But you're not going to scare me away, dude. I've made my choice. I'm staying."
Wemmbu searched Jaden's face for any sign of doubt, any hint that this was manipulation or strategy or anything other than genuine care.
But all he saw was sincerity, determination, and the kind of loyalty you'd see in a true friend. Someone who'd made a commitment and meant to keep it.
It was too much. It was everything he'd wanted for so long and convinced himself he could never have.
The tears came again, but these were different—softer, quieter. Not the violent sobs from before but something gentler, something that felt almost like relief.
Like maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to carry all of this alone anymore.
"I don't know how to do this," Wemmbu whispered. "I don't know how to let someone help me. I don't know how to trust that you won't—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I know," Jaden said, and he pulled Wemmbu back into a hug, this one gentler than before but no less secure. His arms wrapped around Wemmbu in that same steadying way, offering comfort without expectation.
"We'll figure it out. One day at a time, okay? You don't have to have all the answers right now."
Wemmbu nodded against Jaden's shoulder, his hands coming up to grip the back of the siren's shirt.
He could feel Jaden's fins pressed against his arms, the slight coolness of the siren's skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It was grounding, real, something solid to hold onto when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
"Thank you," Wemmbu managed to say, though the words felt inadequate for everything he was feeling. "For not—for staying. For—"
He couldn't find the right words.
"You don't have to thank me," Jaden said softly, one hand moving up to gently pat Wemmbu's back in a comforting rhythm. The gesture was so tender it made Wemmbu want to cry again.
"This is what friends do, dude. They show up. They stay. They don't leave when things get hard."