ok yeah i couldn’t decide so i just did flame and lomedy
i’ll do wemmbu and flame laaaaater….. 🤫
can you tell how much free time i have.
-
Flame didn’t understand why Lomedy didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower at the mere utter of his oh-so-feared name.
Most people reacted to him in one of two ways:
They either pushed back loudly — like Wemmbu or any other enemy he met along the way.
Or just they kept their distance.
Lomedy did neither. He just… stayed. For some odd reason, Flame thought that was worse.
Flame had only first noticed it first during something small.
They were sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed when one of them shifted. It wasn’t deliberate. Just proximity.
Flame’s entire posture tightened on reflex—shoulders drawing subtly upward, spine straightening as if bracing for impact, even though the contact had been nothing more than an accidental brush of fabric. He didn’t necessarily pull away… that would show awareness. But his shoulders still went rigid.
To Flame’s discomfort, the other had noticed. Not just the micromovements—it was his patterns. Flame would go from being normal and eccentric (or in his case “neutral”), to completely freezing and wearily turning his head around so he could examine the area.
Of course Lomedy had noticed. How could he not?
Not in a way that called it out. More so like a quiet observation that was kept to himself. Only himself.
Later, when they were alone again, Lomedy decided to try something… a tad bit smaller. He reached over to grab something near Flame — their hands brushed.
Flame’s fingers immediately withdrew. As if it was his first day of living on Earth, and had just learned of the simple action done by all.
Lomedy tilted his head. “Do you always react like that?” he asked lightly.
“Like what?” Flame replied.
“Like contact is a threat.”
Flame didn’t answer. Because he didn’t think of it as a threat.
He just… categorized touch as leverage. Grip. Control. Restraint. It was something you used to gain power over others. Or something used on you.
Yeah. That’s what it was. Right?
Lomedy studied him for a long second. To Flame, it felt way longer than just a second. It felt as if the intense stare had dragged on for minutes… hours—heck, even days! All of this was just too much for him to handle.
Then, without warning, he did something Flame truly did not expect.
He reached out and lightly tapped his side. Not jabbing. Not pressing. Just a soft, quick brush.
Flame blinked once, slow and measured, as if he was recalibrating. The sensation hadn’t hurt, hadn’t threatened, and that unfamiliar neutrality left him momentarily unsure how to categorize it. It wasn’t strategic. It wasn’t forceful. It wasn’t meant to destabilize. It just… existed.
Flame stared at him. “What was that?”
Lomedy shrugged. “Testing something.”
Flame narrowed his eyes slightly. Lomedy did it again — this time a little slower. Fingers brushing along Flame’s side, careful, barely there.
Flame’s torso gave a sharp, involuntary twitch, breath catching high in his chest as the lightness of the touch registered. Not painful, not forceful, rather it was… unexpectedly warm.
The sensation was unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t an attempt to overpower. It wasn’t probing for weakness. It was light, delicate, and worst of all, playful.
Flame’s body reacted before his mind did — a subtle tightening, a quick intake of breath.
Lomedy paused immediately. “…you okay?” That question threw him off more than the contact had.
Flame wasn’t used to people checking in mid-interaction. Or even checking up on him at all.
“…Fine,” he said.
Lomedy nodded slowly, as if he knew how tainted of lies those words were. Then proceeded to tried again.
This time, instead of the side, he reached for Flame’s wrist — not roughly grabbing, just tracing lightly over the inside.
Flame’s breath hitched slightly. Not because it hurt. It was because it didn’t. It was warm, careful, and…Flame felt sick at the other descriptor that came to mind.
Measured in a completely different way than his own touch usually was.
He wasn’t being held. He wasn’t being stopped. He was just being… touched.
Lomedy watched him carefully, ready to pull away at the slightest sign of discomfort. “You don’t have to brace,” Lomedy said quietly.
Flame hadn’t even realized he was bracing. His shoulders were drawn tight enough that the muscles along his neck stood faintly defined, tension settling there like armor he hadn’t consciously chosen to wear. His stance subtly grounded. Like he was waiting—or rather, expecting escalation.
There wasn’t any.
Lomedy’s fingers shifted again — a soft, deliberate brush along his side. This time, Flame reacted differently. His muscles didn’t tense as sharply like before.
Something flickered across his expression. Not quite a smile, not quite surrender, but the faint, reluctant tremor of amusement that threatened to turn into laughter if given even half a chance.
Not fully formed… just the ghost of it. He swallowed it down immediately, jaw tightening as he forced the reaction back into something smaller, something manageable.
Lomedy smiled faintly at the sight. “See?” he murmured. “Not everything is a challenge.”
Flame stared at him. He didn’t feel exposed the way he normally was with Wemmbu. He didn’t feel overpowered. He felt… off-balance in a different way.
Because this wasn’t about control. There was no attempt to win. No leverage, no shift in dominance. Just…warmth. And unbeknownst to him, he would gladly accept said warmth with open arms.
Lomedy tapped his side again lightly — almost absentminded. Except, Flame didn’t jerk this time. He inhaled sharply, yes.
But he didn’t move away.
Lomedy noticed the difference.“Better,” he said softly.
Flame frowned slightly. “…What are you trying to prove?”
Lomedy met his gaze evenly. “That not every hand is trying to pin you down.”
The words landed heavier than the touch had.
Flame looked down at where Lomedy’s fingers still rested lightly against his wrist. They weren’t gripping. They weren’t trapping. They were just sitting there. And for once, Flame didn’t feel the need to calculate how to counter it.
He released a slow breath through his nose, the tension in it betraying that he was still recalculating — still trying to figure out why something so gentle felt harder to navigate than aggression ever had.
Lomedy withdrew his hand without ceremony.
No victory. No teasing. Just the normalcy of… friendship?
Flame stood there for a second longer than necessary, processing the reality of this whole situation. It wasn’t weakness, vulnerability, or any other word used to describe “humiliation”. It was just… unfamiliar.
And, well, unfamiliar didn’t automatically mean dangerous. This was something new to him. But now that he’s actually given it time to think, he’s figured out that unfamiliar can turn into something that you get used to. And Lomedy made sure he knew it.
Flame told himself he was fine. Everything was completely fine. I mean, he didn’t move away. Hadn’t retaliated. He had not turned it into a contest.
Lomedy, meanwhile, was watching him with the kind of quiet patience that made Flame suspicious.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Lomedy said lightly.
“I’m not,” Flame replied immediately.
“You are.” Flame narrowed his eyes.
Lomedy didn’t escalate. He didn’t lunge. He didn’t poke.
He just stepped a little closer.
Not invading. Just reducing space.
Flame noticed. Of course he did. His posture shifted automatically — shoulders subtly bracing, weight evening out between both feet.
Lomedy saw that too. “You do that every time,” he murmured.
“Do what.”
“Prepare.” Flame didn’t answer.
So Lomedy reached out again — slower this time, giving him time to see it coming.
His fingers hovered near Flame’s side, paused. The freeze in movement almost seeming like a silent question.
Flame didn’t step back.
Didn’t swat him away.
That was enough permission.
Lomedy’s fingers brushed lightly along his side, barely there.
Once the other’s hands made contact, Flame immediately twitched. It wasn’t dramatic or aggressive. Just a quick, sharp inhale.
Lomedy smiled faintly. “There it is.”
Flame shot him a look. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He asked innocently, although both of them knew the unawareness was a bluff.
“Comment.”
Lomedy hummed thoughtfully. Then, without warning, he used both hands — not grabbing, just lightly pressing his fingers along Flame’s sides in a quick, fluttering motion. “aha—!”
Flame jolted. Actually jolted. A startled sound escaped him before he could stop it — not quite a laugh, but dangerously close.
He immediately stepped back. Lomedy didn’t chase him. He just stood there, amused but calm.
“You’re reactive,” Lomedy observed.
“I’m not,” Flame said, which would’ve sounded more convincing if his voice hadn’t edged upward slightly and if the hue of his cheeks weren’t tinted red.
Lomedy tilted his head. “You just made a sound.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Flame crossed his arms as a sort of defense mechanism, but it wasn’t very effective.
Lomedy stepped forward again. Flame didn’t retreat this time—pride wouldn’t allow him to, which meant when Lomedy’s fingers found his side again, soft, deliberate, slightly slower —Flame was forced to endure it. Or rather, he forced himself to take it.
His muscles tightened first, then they loosened. Then tightened again when Lomedy shifted just slightly lower.
A sharp breath.
A stifled huff.
And then… A laugh. It was small, quick. But it was definitely there. Gone as soon as it came.
Both of them froze. Flame’s eyes widened slightly, like he’d just betrayed himself. Lomedy’s smile stayed warm.
“You’re not made of stone,” he said quietly, but now a bit more teasingly than before.
Flame tried to regain composure.“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
Lomedy tried again — this time not at his sides, but lightly at his wrist, fingers tracing the inside with slow, careful movements.
Flame didn’t jerk as hard this time.
Instead, he sucked in a breath and looked away, jaw tightening as he tried to suppress the reaction. It made it worse. So, so much worse.
Because the more he tried to contain it, the more obvious it became when another short laugh slipped out.
“HngH-! Lohohomedy…”
Lomedy’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s two.”
“Stop… counting.” He grumbled out.
“Make me.” Flame glared. But there wasn’t any real heat behind it.
Lomedy took advantage of that split-second softness and shifted both hands back to Flame’s sides again — not fast, not aggressive… just enough to catch him off guard.
Flame folded slightly at the waist with a surprised burst of laughter—clearer this time, less restrained. He immediately straightened, visibly annoyed with himself.
“This—ihis unnecessa-HA-ary…!” He muttered through his laughter.
Lomedy shrugged lightly. “You’re always so controlled. It’s nice to know you can react without it being a fight.”
That landed. Flame stilled, taking in the sentence of his friend the other. Lomedy didn’t press immediately this time.
He let the words sit.
Then he stepped in again, closer than before — and gave a softer, slower press along Flame’s side. Flame’s reaction wasn’t explosive now. It was quieter. A soft huff of breath. As punishment for the sensitive touch, a reluctant curve began forming at the corner of his mouth. “Lomehehedy…!”
He didn’t step back this time, didn’t create space the way he usually would. Instead, remaining where he was, as if testing whether he could simply exist inside the peaceful moment without turning it into a contest.
Which, for Flame, was a massive shift.
Lomedy noticed. “You’re not bracing as much,” he said softly.
Flame exhaled. “…It’s not a threat. There was the admission.
Lomedy’s fingers stilled. Then, just to test—he gave one final, gentle flutter at his ribs. Flame let out a short, unguarded laugh. “Wahait!-“
He immediately covered it with a cough. Lomedy grinned. “Three.”
Flame rolled his eyes. But never stepped away. And that was the difference.
The laughter hadn’t been dragged out of him through imbalance or leverage, it had been coaxed out.
Without humiliation. Without dominance. Without loss of footing.
Just warmth.
Lomedy finally withdrew his hands completely. “See?” he said quietly. “Some hands aren’t trying to win.”
Flame looked at him for a long moment.
Then, almost experimentally, he nudged Lomedy’s shoulder lightly with his own.
Lomedy blinked — pleasantly surprised. Flame looked away.
“…Don’t get used to it.” But he didn’t sound annoyed. And Lomedy could still see the faint, lingering softness at the edge of his expression.
-
weeooweooeoeo torchflower come back bro 💔
AWAWAEAEAEE TORCHFLOWER YAYAYYYY this is so cute omg im obsessed with this aughh