Chapter Text
It hurts.
It hurts, knowing how someone could be so different and similar to yourself at the same time.
It's funny, when that suffocating feeling returns every time a certain person’s name is mentioned. His chest would tighten—and those pathetic excuses of petals would regurgitate from his mouth. The tepals come out in each individual piece of its base, making him have to oblige them out forcefully.
At first, Flame didn’t know why his chest felt heavy, enveloped in pressure. Life was going well for him. Law was over, he returned to farming with Lomedy, he was no longer exiled.
So why did every step he took contribute to the erupting pain that was slowly consuming his heart? It doesn’t sit right with him—yet he doesn’t know why or who he’s experiencing these invalidated feelings towards. He’s yet to figure out the horrors he’d have to suffer.
. .
The tepals have gone on for a few days now. Flame’s not stupid. He knows what’s going on. He’s currently hunched over the crippled bathroom sink, struggling to practically dig out the little legs of each flower while enduring the pain.
The immortal demon smiled pathetically while glaring towards his own reflection towards the mirror.
He looked like shit.
The bathroom door is locked, his own knees feeling like they’re about to give up on his stability completely. His only support being the sink which probably has a dent forming—at how hard he’s clenching all his strength on it.
He wants to cough it all out. Reach into his throat and just yank the lily at its roots. But the way it still manages to make his whole upper body convulse every chance it gets, he has no choice but to stay obligated to it.
If he did cough up more tepals, the cleaning would be hell since he’d have to pick up every individual leg.
But that’s not what Flame’s worried about.
Lomedy is over, he’s helping Flame renovate his new base. He’s unsure what Loms is doing, but he doesn’t want him to hear his useless plea for help towards his feelings.
He holds back the pressure, swallowing the pain as he exits the bathroom after cleaning his mess. He walks towards the kitchen and catches himself a glass of water. The way the water travels, it passes through every root and gap between each tepal. Yeah—not a good idea. Flame thought.
“Yo Flame!” Lomedy exclaimed, skipping towards him, wheat in hands as he pointed towards the cow entrapped in fences. “I don’t know how many cows you wanted me to breed, in case it’s not enough—could you check?” The farmer continued.
Flame’s breath hitched—just barely.
He loved Lomedy. The cultivator will always be Flame’s best friend, his day one. There’s no way he’ll expose himself in this vulnerable ass state.
Flame thought of two aspects.
The concept of Lomedy being the only one who could see him in this state, or Lomedy being the only one that can’t see him in this state. He’s always felt like a burden towards the brunette. He lost his mace, got his farm destroyed, and a bunch of negative stuff he doesn’t want to name. He has no idea why Lomedy still wants to stay with him, despite all the horrible stuff he’s done.
He didn’t want to move, all he wanted to do was sit in the living room, and think of who knows what. But this is Lomedy, so he had no choice.
Flame set the glass of water down on the counter and nuzzled Lomedy’s hair before talking. “Bro, just breed however much you want, it’s not like there’s a limit of cows you can have.” He says the last part with a chuckle, dragging Lomedy out towards the farm.
“Bro– what if there’s too many again? The more the merrier I guess bro..” Lomedy says, walking side by side with Flame. Lomedy loved Flame. There’s no one dearer in this world than him. He’s recently realized that Flame has been distant lately, and seeing traces of spider lilies in the bathroom. He hopes it’s not what he thinks it is, hoping Flame is okay.
“Bro, do whatever you want, Loms. My base is your base, you practically live here based on how much you come over— what’s the point of asking me for anything bro?" He petted a cow, taking some wheat from Lomedy and feeding it to the cow.
"Also, I might have to head out to merchant city for some resources, if you don't mind watching over the base for me." Flame nudged Lomedy, with a smile he didn't know he wore.
"Yeah— Of course bro?" Lomedy nudged flame back, smiling widely. Only Flame could make him feel so happy. Sometimes he thinks about everything he's been through with Flame. Helping him everyday, having each others backs, just being here. "You don't even gotta ask, of course I could. Go trade some more resources!"
"Thanks, Loms." He stated, walking back into his base to prepare the space netherite gears he was about to trade, for pearls, potions, all types of combat materials. And more specifically, more carts.
A few minutes later, he hugged and waved Lomedy goodbye and got on his horse, smiling at Lomedy as the horse started trotting under Flame. (Love ourselves some torchflower fluff before the torture)
. .
On the way to merchant city, there were some bandits that attacked him. He got a few scratches here and there, and he's currently getting medical equipment from his enderchest to clean up his horse's wounds. It's confusing. He's no longer exiled, law is over, yet people still want him dead just because of some stupid "combat master" title. He doesn't get why people are always against him, regardless of the situation. Always the villain, demon, immortal to insults.
Flame walks next to his horse for support on his wounds, feeding it with golden carrots while soothing it with small head pets.
As he enters merchant city, he looks for a stall for ender pearls. But during the process, he spots a familiar purple figure pass by the corner of his eyes. He knows exactly who it is. Then he started leashing his horse to one of his spare fences that he carried.
Flame was just about to look for Wemmbu in the direction he headed, but suddenly—
That familiar feeling.
That feeling he so badly wants to avoid.
The feeling that he wants to so badly get rid of, stinging in his chest. He feels a lump in his throat, sprinting towards a covered corner to get the tepals out of his stupid oxygen tank of a lung.
He’s confused again. The feeling was repressed with Lomedy, how come—
.
.
.
No way, there’s simply no way.
There’s no way— out of everyone..
Wemmbu?
The moment the name comes up in his head, or even thinks about anything remotely close that involves him, the tepals spike further out of his throat. He coughs violently, choking with tears at the end of his eyes at the pain.
He catches the fully enveloped bloody spiderlily in his palm, staring at its dead roots.
This has to be a coincidence— it has to be.
But it wasn’t.
Ever since Wemmbu disappeared as the invisible knight, ever since he reclaimed the title as “the strongest,” his heart never sat still. There was this lingering feeling in his heart, that sunk him down and suffocated him every time he saw Wemmbu.
He glanced over again towards Wemmbu, and recognized a familiar eyeball shoulder to shoulder to him.
He knew who it was immediately. Figuring that they’re cool after the law battle and everything.
He gained the courage to try to talk to him, to see if his theory was true.
He approached Wemmbu.
Alone.
With that aching feeling still in his heart.