The next rest of the day passed in a blur as Flame laid in his bed and silently wept to himself. His scales ran cold as he cried, but he made sure to keep his blankets and wings as far away from himself as possible. He knew he deserved a lot more than to be a little chilly, especially after what he had done to Umber.
The words were still fresh in his mind, and he could hear them crystal clear. "FLAME! I SAID I'M FUCKING FINE," Umber's voice echoed in his head. Another shiver ran down his spine at the words he never expected to leave Umber's mouth.
Umber was the most pure dragon Flame had ever met. From his cheerful attitude to his constant optimism, the last word he had ever expected to leave his mouth was a swear. Then his face popped into his mind. He could see him clearly as his talons gripped his mouth so hard Flame thought he may never let go, with tears pouring down his face. They even magnified the scar on his cheek, but his heart only thrummed with pain rather than love.
He knew he had broken Umber if he hadn't already been before. He knew that Umber was no longer the dragon he had grown to love and that it would be a long time before their relationship would be the same. If it would ever be the same. And right then, Flame wasn't sure.
His mind twitched away at the thought, forcefully pushing his thoughts in the other direction. Except the only thing that laid there were thoughts and memories of the past. And by taking Starf's advice, he knew he should be living in the present instead. He knew he should focus on what he had to do, rather than dwell on the things he already had. But it hurt — to think about Umber. It hurt to think of the things he had done to him.
He finally felt himself begin to drift off, when all of a sudden, the familiar creak of the door rang through the quiet room.
His head shot to the door to see familiar brown scales being illuminated in the outside light. "Umber?" he called, but he didn't respond. Instead, Umber went and fell on his bed and covered himself with his blankets, facing away from Flame. "Umber, I'm sorry," he said, but still got no response. "I shouldn't have forced you to say anything." A few more seconds went by, no response. "Will you please say something?"
It sounded as if he was begging more than asking, and after a few moments of more excruciating silence, Flame swore he heard Umber begin to weep as he pulled the covers over his head. His heart felt as if it had been stabbed, and if it weren't for him crying all day, he would right alongside Umber.
The rest of that night was nothing but silence between both of them — something that hurt him more than he thought possible. When he awoke, Umber had already left his room and had gone to his session. His bed was still a mess as if he had tried to hurry out before Flame woke up.
He forced himself out of bed despite not wanting to get up. Once again, just like the night before, he felt like crying and even considered skipping his session for the day. But if he wasn't willing to go to his sessions when he felt down, then why was he making Umber do the same thing?
It wasn't long before he found himself knocking on Starf's door, almost begging to come in so he could tell him how bad of a boyfriend he was. To tell him how much he may have ruined their relationship. To tell him how much Umber didn't even want to talk to him the night before. With each beat of his heart, he felt a pain shooting through it.
It was only a few seconds before Starf opened the door. "Hello, Flame-" he started but was interrupted when Flame pushed past him and closed the door, and sat down with his talons buried in his lap, head staring at the floor. Starf sighed and walked back to his desk. "What happened between you two?" It was as if he read his mind, asking the questions before he could explain.
"How do you…" he started, but quickly realized it was unimportant and stopped caring. He sighed and his voice dropped to something low and sad. "Umber swore at me yesterday."
Starf took a moment and thought, sighing in the process. "Well," he started, but he was at a loss for words. "I thought I had heard Nighthunter saying something about it but…"
"But I'm a horrible boyfriend and I don't deserve him?" he finished for him. "Yeah, I'm aware."
Starf stared at him with a disappointed gaze. "Now, Flame, we talked about this. Stop beating yourself down like that." He grabbed his jar of ink and clipboard and began jotting down notes. "So, what happened between you two last night?"
It hurt to recall, and he winced at the thought. But with Starf's hungry eyes begging for information, he couldn't help but think of it. "Well, I came back from my meeting with Zephyr," he remembered. "And when I opened the door, the entire room was trashed, and Umber was sitting in the corner crying."
Starf jotted down more notes on his clipboard. "And then what happened?" he peered back up at him. Once again, he felt as if truth serum was being injected directly into his veins and he was forced to go back and remember the incident.
"I-I tried to ask him if he was okay, but he didn't want to be touched. I asked if it was about Crane and tried to give him a hug but…" he trailed off, leaving the words to hang in the air. They must have been more than enough for Starf because it wasn't long before he started jotting down more writing on his clipboard tirelessly.
"And then what?" Starf asked.
"And then he ran away, and Nighthunter went chasing after him." He could still recall the fear and sadness he picked up on Umber's face as he ran, and the anger in Nighthunter's voice. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if neither of them ever wanted to see him again.
"Nighthunter went chasing after him? Do you know what she told him? Did Umber come back to your room?" It felt like a barrage of questions, as Starf usually asked whenever something was bothering Flame. Questions that made him think about it more and more, freely opening his chest full of feelings and spilling the contents out for Starf to enjoy.
Flame dropped his voice low and almost disappointed. "I don't know what she said." But he wished he did so he could use those words to mend Umber — and their relationship — back together. The night before he had shattered Umber into a million more pieces than he was already broken into, and he no longer even trusted Flame's warmth to make him feel alright. "He came back into the room later that night without saying a word to me and cried himself to sleep."
More writing and more sounds of talons against paper echoed through the silent room. "Flame, it seems that Umber might be relapsing," he finally said, and Flame couldn't help but think back to Sora when she ran off into the ruins. "I'll be honest, your words didn't necessarily cause it, but they definitely didn't help either. All you can do now is give him some space and try to continue to gain his trust again while he works with Nighthunter."
"How?" Flame asked, but it sounded more like begging when the words shot out of his mouth.
"Do little things while giving him the space he needs at the same time. Do things like cleaning the room up" — though Flame did that every day regardless — ", organizing your scrolls" — something he had yet to do after the night before ", and leave him little notes, even. That way, you can speak to him without him speaking to you, if that makes sense. It gives a sense of control over the situation — whether or not he wants to read what you have to say."
So he took that advice. When he got back to their room, he finally picked up the flipped table, put their graphicolls in separate boxes, and made his bed perfectly, down to the last crease in the fabric.
He wrote a note, using a pen rather than a jar of ink — he was one of the few who preferred it. It took a long time and a lot of rewriting, but once it was finished, he taped it to the front of their door so Umber would see it. Right before leaving to go somewhere that would take his mind far away, he read it once more.
Hey Umber, I know we haven't been on talking terms recently, but I just wanted to say that I love you. No matter how many times you swear at me or ignore me, nothing will ever change that, and I would fly across the world ten times just to hear you say it back. Anyways, I cleaned up the room for you and separated our graphicolls (if you can believe it), yours are marked with a U on the box. I'll be gone for the rest of today doing that one cooking class we did together since I was put on leave. That'll allow you to have some personal time in our room alone too, away from all of the madness. And hey, maybe they'll even let me do the teaching instead.
I miss you Umber. You don't have to talk, or even write anything back, but I just want you to know that I love you and I'm open to anything you want to talk about. After all, we're a team, remember? Sometimes you just need someone to talk to who isn't being paid to talk back, so if you ever feel like talking to me, anything I'm doing I will drop just to hear you talk. Words can't describe how much I love you, and sometimes you even feel like my third moon.
Sincerely, Flame.
He pushed the tape against the door to make sure that it wouldn't go anywhere and began making his way to where he remembered the room to be, and if he was right, the class would've been taking place around that time. He could vividly remember looking through a window when he was inside.
His memory eventually served him right after looking inside of many doors to nobody being inside — most of them were empty with the candles put out. After what seemed like a million rooms, he finally found it. Luckily for him, the class had just started and ingredients were still being passed out to tables. Most were empty, but he knew more dragons would show up.
The room wasn't incredibly massive, but it was a square with different little countertops set up in rows with wheels at the bottom. Each one had a cutting board and different kinds of knives and other utilities that made some of the stuff easier, alongside the ingredients.
He felt a bit of excitement run through him as he analyzed the countless different ingredients he would have at his disposal; chicken breasts, steamed vegetables, rice, oil, garlic, herbs, onions, eggs, cheese, and many different spices.
If it was anything like it was years before, he would just walk in and pick a table, so that's what he did. His eyes glazed over each ingredient, and he could think of at least twenty things he could make, from steamed fried rice to chicken stir-fry to a cheese omelet.
He looked around at the different ovens and stoves — they were different from the ones in the kitchens and looked far cleaner as if they were fresh and hadn't been used. Or they were managed and cleaned regularly, unlike what some dragons said that it wasn't their job so Flame had to do it for them. And he rarely had the time to clean, so they almost never got cleaned.
But once the class was over, Flame still didn't feel better. Even doing his favorite thing in the world wasn't enough to get Umber out of his mind. And as the excitement wore off, he felt himself dropping back into the same horrible mood he was in before.
He went back to their room to pass by when he picked up Umber's scent. He had been there. He took a look at the note, and there was one shy rip on the side. He opened the door knowing full well that Umber wasn't inside or else his scent would've been stronger, only to see the room was untouched, not even his scent was prevalent. He hadn't even gone inside.
He threw himself down on his bed, unbothered to even close the door. Instead, he laid there and felt each thump of his heart, as each beat accompanied it with pain. His wings flopped out, falling off of the side of the bed.
After many long hours of either pacing around the room, staring out of the window, and laying in bed, he felt near his breaking point. He tried to distract himself with graphicolls, which didn't work because he had only ever read them with Umber, to opting to go outside to the garden to enjoy the fresh air. But he assumed that'd be where Umber was probably staying for the day, and decided against it. After all, his goal was to give Umber space, not intrude on it when he needed it most.
Instead, he stayed inside of their room and thought through all of the things he could say if — when — Umber came back that night so that he would speak, but nothing came to mind. He could only think of one thing. Or rather, many things in the form of questions.
How long is this going to go on? he thought to himself. How long is Umber going to avoid me? How long will I go without speaking to him? How many nights will he come back to our room and cry himself to sleep? How many times will I wake up just to see his bed a mess with him nowhere to be found?
All he wanted was to hear Umber's soft, gentle voice as he spoke, to see his smile every time Flame looked at him, to see the necklace around him gleaming relentlessly in the sunlight, just as his smile did. All he wanted was for him to speak so that all of his troubles would run away.
Finally, as his mind finally started to wear down on him and the thin blankets of the Healing Center did all they could to keep him warm as he shivered, the door finally opened with a familiar creak. His head jolted to stare at Umber as he walked inside.
"Umber!" Flame said, but Umber kept walking and threw himself onto his bed. Not once did he stare at Flame — or even look in his general direction, his eyes were glued to the floor the whole time. He rolled to his side to face the wall instead of Flame. "Umber, I don't want you to say anything about how you're feeling, but please just talk to me," he tried desperately, his voice low, on the brink of giving up. "I can't take it anymore, please…" His voice faltered at the end.
He felt a shy tear fall down his face as his voice echoed in the empty darkness that was their room. In the slight moonlight, he saw Umber's head turn over a bit to look at him before he winced at his sight and turned his head back to face the wall. "I'm sorry," he finally said.
Somehow, that didn't make anything better. What did that mean? What was he sorry for? Was it because of him swearing? Was it because he wouldn't talk? He didn't know. Something he did know, though, was that the rest of that night was spent in silence.
The only distraction he had was the constant pain his heart felt as he stared at the wall and the silent but heavy tears that clouded his vision.
They were so close, but he never felt further from him. At least when they first met, Umber would talk to him at the very least. But he wouldn't even give Flame a single sentence when he needed it most. He knew Umber wasn't mad at him, after all, he couldn't stay mad at him and Flame knew it.
It was something much deeper than that, something much worse than that. A deadly illness that his image of Crane had injected into his mind, and it took control over him more and more as the days passed, to the point where he felt like he couldn't even talk to Flame without spewing everything out.
And it was all his fault.
Umber made sure to wake up extra early that day, and — once again — didn't bother to make his bed. He couldn't stand looking at Flame any longer than he had to, knowing what he was doing to him by ignoring him.
Umber acted like he didn't hear Flame's weeps, and instead tried to drown the noise out with anything he could think of. He wished he had the courage to talk to Flame, but he was terrified. One slip-up is all it took, and he'd be pouring his heart out of what he did to Crane, how he killed her, and deserves to be punished for it.
Even staying in their room hurt slightly, because it was the place where they once hung out for the entire day reading graphicolls, sharing stories, and cuddling close with their makeshift bed. But things changed, and Umber had never felt more alone. But he knew if he told Flame, then he truly would be alone.
But he kept walking because that's all he could do — keep walking while life took him on the ride, while he sat in the passenger seat and watched as they rolled along.
One knock on Nighthunster's door is all it took for it to open with the familiar NightWing standing on the other side, beckoning for him to come inside. Ever since she talked to him after he ran, their relationship had become far more professional than informal. "Come in, come in," she beckoned.
He walked in and took a seat as she rounded her way to her desk and took a seat. She stared at him, her eyes threatening and terrifying when they shouldn't be. She got her clipboard out as she usually did, along with a jar of ink that she dipped a talon into. "How have you been feeling over the last few days, Umber?" she asked.
"Fine," he lied. Most of his responses were lies at that point. And though he knew Nighthunter could see through every one, he didn't care; it's not like she could get the exact truth from body language.
She wrote on her clipboard, probably about how he was lying, if Umber were to guess. "And what about Flame? How's he been lately?"
It hurt to think about it, and he felt his mind recoil at the thought. "Not good," Umber admitted, refusing to elaborate. He didn't want to tell her how the couple nights before he had cried himself to sleep.
"Alright, well I want to go over a few things with you today." She looked down at her notes. She had her glasses on that day as if she was preparing to read a lot. That's when he realized that the session would be far longer than usual. "Ever since the incident, how have things been between you and Flame? Have you spoken to him recently?"
His eyes dropped to his lap. "No," he said. He wished it wasn't true, but it was. It hurt him every second that he didn't, but he knew he couldn't. Not with what was at stake.
"And why's that?" she asked. He could see his reflection in her glasses and could clearly see how much of a mess he was. His exhausted expression, dirt on his horns, and dull scales. For the next few moments, the only noise that filled the room was her talons against paper.
"I…" he hesitated. Should he tell her? Would talking to her have the same effect on him as if he were talking to Flame? He wasn't going to risk it. "I can't." He could read her face easily, she knew he was being vague for a reason, but she wasn't going to press further.
"Have you seen him at all?"
"No, I've been staying away from our room." The garden was his favorite place to stay. Sometimes he would drift off in the middle of the day to the white noise of dragons doing things around him, until dusk eventually fell and he was forced to go back inside. The cafeteria was another acceptable place too, especially since Flame had been put on leave.
"Why?" Questions, questions, and more questions, opening his routine like a papaya to see every intricate detail on the inside, and scooping out every last bit of the fruit.
"Because…" he said, hoping his answer would be enough. But he knew it wouldn't — Nighthunter always wanted every detail of anything he's willing to say. Any information was good information, no matter how useless.
Her voice turned stern. "Umber, we talked about these kinds of answers. I need real answers that aren't one-worded or vague enough to where I can't get an idea as to why. I may be able to help you help yourself, but in the end, it's your choice whether or not you want to help yourself." She dropped her voice and set her clipboard down. "You and Flame have a very special connection, one you only read about in scrolls. Do you really want to jeopardize that over a few questions?"
In that moment he felt an emotion that had been becoming more and more common over the last few days: anger. He stood up from his chair hard enough that it slammed against the wall. "We're done here," he said before storming out of the room.
How dare she try to talk about love when she doesn't have a partner! How dare she try to understand the relationship between the two of them! How dare she try to insinuate that their relationship would fade because of what was happening!
He thought about it for a moment as he walked through the Healing Center. She's right, his mind whispered. But was she? Was their relationship really doomed if Umber didn't get it together?
He didn't stop by their room on his way to the garden because he didn't want to see any more notes from Flame plastered on the front of their door — an invitation for him to come inside and freely roam around their empty room that was once full of love and joy.
He subconsciously walked his way to the garden as his mind roamed, thinking of all of the things he wanted to say to Flame. The night before was one of them, but not nearly as close to the amount of words his real apology would hold.
He sat down in his usual spot, where bright, beautiful flowers bloomed, tea leaves grew, chamomile flowers released their beautiful scent, and green vines grew overtop of him. The only thing that was more beautiful than that was Manticore strumming their guitar next to him, one note after the other.
His head dipped down into the grass between his talons and he shut his eyes, hoping to fall asleep to the soft melody. He thought of Flame, he thought of how much he wanted to run into his arms with his talons gripping his back and kiss him. But then, he felt the words of truth already singing through the air, all of his sins to be spoken freely.
He pulled away from the thought and instead tried to distract himself with another. It was hard because after all, almost every waking moment over the last two years had been spent with him. Anything Umber did, he almost always did it with Flame. His mind eventually landed on something between him and his sibs — specifically Reed and Marsh — when they snuck away while the others were sleeping.
Reed and Marsh taught Umber a few things that night. Callouts, defensive positions, strategies, all things he could then practice on his own time and get an understanding for. His eyes got heavier and heavier as he delved into that memory, and it eventually felt like the world around him slowly began to fade away. For the first time in days, he didn't feel anything — somewhat happy, actually.
So when he saw Crane's face flash in front of his eyes and he threw himself back to smash against a tree, he was disappointed, to say the least. Luckily, he managed to slam against the center of his back rather than his shattered wing, but it hurt regardless. "Woah, calm down there," Manticore said. They set their guitar to the side on the bench they were on and helped him to his feet. "Everything okay?"
"I-I'm sorry," Umber said. "I've got to go!" He picked himself up to his feet and let his legs take him wherever they wanted. Where? He didn't know; he knew he just had to get out of that garden though. Through the entrance of the Healing Center, through the halls, and eventually to their room without even thinking.
Luckily for him, Flame had left a note taped to their doorway. His emotions were clashing — on one talon, he felt sick even thinking about entering the room. But on the other, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the same time.
Despite every scale on his body telling him to crumple the note and walk away, he read it anyway and slowly read it.
Hey Umber, I know you didn't exactly listen to my note yesterday, but I'm going to write again. I'll be out for the rest of today to help sort some of the stuff in the kitchen since Alpine isn't there right now. If you ever get hungry or want to talk, or anything at all, that's where I'll be. Or if you want to write back to me, there's a blank at the bottom, write as little or as much as you want. I even left you a nice warm bowl of stew inside underneath one of those thermal serving dishes, because luckily the kitchen had a few. I cleaned up the room and laid out a graphicoll for you and even lit a scented candle that Starf gave to me.
I love you, forever and always. You're the third moon that lights up my world at night, and if I'm being honest, I'm scared of watching it dim. I love you, Umber. I just hope that someday soon, you can find it in you to start talking to me again.
Sincerely, Flame.
He felt tears well in his eyes at the last part. A pain struck his heart like the knife that had already been buried in his chest was forcefully twisted. He said that yesterday, he thought, recalling the letter Flame had left the day before. He thought about it for a moment. His third moon… He too, could feel it slowly dimming out from the night sky to become invisible forever — Oracle and Perception without Imperial.
His muscles moved for him when he pushed the door open. Immediately, the thick smell of applewood filled his nose, and he almost felt relaxed. Surveying the room, he observed the same thing Flame had said in the letter — one scroll opened on the table with a lit candle to the right and a metal platter to the left.
He inspected the scroll closer. It was the scroll he had last read, rolled open to the exact position he was reading at before. He shut the door behind him and let the cozy atmosphere of the room roll over him. As he walked towards the graphicoll, he could feel the heat of the candle as it burned bright.
The rest of the room was dark — or at least very dim with the curtain in the way of the window — and Umber almost felt as if he was at their house with Flame. Oh how much he wished that was reality, how much he wished that nothing had ever happened; not the restaurant fire, not his dream, nothing. He imagined they'd be at home cuddling on the couch at that moment, and he would be asleep with his head rested against Flame's shoulder.
But he knew that couldn't happen. As much as he wished he could muster up enough words to form a sentence, he couldn't bring himself to. He knew the truth would pour out, and Flame would hate him forever. But if he didn't, they would slowly drift apart until…nothing. So what was he meant to do? Wait? Tell him? Write a letter back? He didn't know, he had no plan.
All he could do was let time figure itself out for him.
All he could do was wait while he sat in the passenger seat and watch as they rolled along.
Author's notes: Well, these two weeks for me were certainly eventful. If you're in my Discord server, you'd know that I officially have a boyfriend. He was one of my readers, and then we became friends, and then a lot more. He was also the one who drew the background of the thumbnail (that you can only see on unfortunately). Anyway, I'm loving this new schedule. Not only because me and him sit in VC all day now and this schedule makes it easier to, well, sit in a VC all day, but also because writing is infinitely less stressful. Let me know if my chapters are getting better quality-wise, I always love reading reviews whether they're critiques or just a nice comment, they always make my day!
PS: I'm learning Polish because my — now — boyfriend is from Poland. My Polish is really bad right now, but thankfully I have him — and someone else named Kappa (who has reread the story four times, which means a lot to me) in my Discord server who is also Polish — to help me.
