Archive of Our Own

Hi Wemmbu, 

You’ve found the letter I suppose, so there’s no reason to beat around the bush. I’m sorry. I’m probably dead by now.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, it’s just taken me forever to get around to it. I think I’ve spent a couple weeks poring over this, which is weird cause I also think I can articulate pretty well. It’s probably the nature of this letter. What's happened is likely already out, so I don’t have much to say anyways. 

Getting off topic here, but don’t you think it’s funny how isolation messes with our brains. Really makes you think you’re alone in the world. That one guy with the paradox (Fermi?) was kind of right if you think about it, if the universe is so vast, how are we alone? Hmmm… well, now I’m just rambling so you can ignore that. 

I actually wrote this letter to ask for a final favor. I’ve left a map and a package nearby and it would be super awesome if you could bring it to the address written on them. 

I trust you with this and thank you,

Rejoice

chk. “Hello?” click. chk.

Wemmbu woke up to his temple throbbing. He grasped his head, the pain coming in sharp waves accentuated by the noises around him. Reaching for water, he realized how dry his throat and eyes were and blinked away the spots in his vision.

Around him, the rumble of an engine persisted, and he could hear the giggles of a couple on his right. He shifted his head as he tried to wake himself up, still feeling groggy. The muscles in his neck refused to cooperate, and instead uncomfortably cramped up again.

Overhead, the voice finally found its bearing.

“Dear valued passengers,” it began, “We are preparing to make our descent in 15 minutes, please start heading back to your seats.” It continued on listing exit procedures and enlisting the help of flight attendants. Wemmbu stopped listening, opting to look out the window. In the distance the outline of an unfamiliar city was bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun.

The lights melted together at the horizon, painting the city in yellows and oranges. Specks of grey littered the roads beneath as cars made their way to the city. He clutched his bag as he watched, the weight grounding him as he waited to land.

Seatbelts clicked back into place as people sat straighter and came to their senses. The noise evoked memories of road trips in Minute’s first car, a beat up Honda with stains and dog fur trapped between the seats. It had taken them ages to figure out the angle the seatbelts needed to be to properly lock.

People clapped and the volume rose as the plane touched down. The reverberating noises rang in his ear. Wemmbu watched the people make their way off the plane, deciding to just follow their leads. He was faster than the rest — and he felt his ego boost a little before realizing he was competing with nobody. All he had was a small carry-on suitcase and bag, others lugging much more.

Airport security was tedious as always, but it was quick before he found himself standing outside. He pondered for a few moments, he didn’t know where to go as he had no approximate direction in mind, only an address located in the middle of nowhere.

Wemmbu looked back into the airport, and noticed a stylistic — abstract — clock installation hung up. The large arrow pointed somewhere to his right. He started walking in that direction, hoping to find somewhere he could rest soon.

Wemmbu’s earliest memories were a mystery to everyone and most importantly, himself. He had retained nothing and the space where his childhood should’ve occupied stayed blissfully blank. Occasionally, if he tried hard enough, he could draw up flashes of bright purple eyes — a reflection of his own — and the feeling of being safe in a warm embrace.

He never thought too hard about it though, as it only caused him migraines. In the end, all Wemmbu was left with was the lesson that reminiscing wasn’t for him. His inability to do so was a sign that there was simply nothing noteworthy for him to remember.

However, sitting in his new home, he wished he had thought just that little bit harder about it. Hunching over his phone and huddled against the wall he cursed out his past self for writing it off so fast.

His phone lit up as it finally started charging. He had spent a few minutes trying to get the lightning cable to connect as it refused to reason with him. Three contacts lit up his screen. Wemmbu only consistently talked to one of them, the messages to the other two dated back months ago.

wemmy (✿◠ᴗ◠) <

egg you up

Wemmbu watched and waited. Receiving no reply, he tried again.

wemmy (✿◠ᴗ◠) <

egg

egg

egg

 wakeuo

egg

cmon

Continuing the spam, he observed as three dots blinked to life on his screen — Egg finally deciding to respond. He adjusted his blanket, squinting to properly see the words appearing.

> eg

broooooo its two in the morning can a man get some rest at reasonable times

wemmy (✿◠ᴗ◠) <

what a big fat liar like you were asleep

i was immersed in some fine literature

we must continuously further our knowledge on the social and economic states of the world

bro is yappign

truly understanding these states is what leaves us

The dots stopped. They returned after a brief moment, as if the user remembered something.

> eg

thats rude man

ik i checked with you earlier, but are u still ok?

do you need me to show up and bust down the door or smth

wemmy (✿◠ᴗ◠) <

u live across town what r u on

nah im good its just kinda weird lol

yk you can talk to me right?

like bro we’re the duo of all time

aurafarmers

the taxes of our citizens will pay for our future empire

yeah don’t worry im just bored, it’s empty in here

Wemmbu looked up again, the bare walls staring back at him. The glare of his phone was the only light source in the room. The wallpaper was peeling, and if he focused he could vaguely smell seasoning from the neighbours downstairs.

> eg

okay man, you should head to bed considering how late it is

if that’s the case i also need to get some rest i have school tomorrow

wemmy (✿◠ᴗ◠) <

fine

sleep well ig

yeah gn, if smth happens just call me or minute

With that, Eggs profile switched back to offline.

Wemmbu huffed under his breath, annoyed, and now devoid of entertainment. The silence of this new room was overwhelming, and looking up all he could see were empty walls and the familiar stillness of a house. His bag was haphazardly thrown near the door, and the moon hit the glass of a blue eye pin.

Sometimes he dreamed of staying in one place. During middle school, Wemmbu and Egg had constantly joked about running away to some rural fishing village in Asia, and spending the rest of their lives learning the art of angling.

It was a fantasy he thought of more times than he would prefer to say aloud. A plan he could always fall back on when things got too rough.

Changing his gaze to the ceiling, he tucked his phone under his pillow and tried to go to sleep. His hoodie sat oddly beneath his neck, an all too familiar ache he knew he’d have to stretch in the morning.

Slowly dozing off, he couldn’t help but think that the day couldn’t come fast enough.

The scent of cigarettes and dust hit him the moment he woke up. Wemmbu had snagged a motel room in a daze the prior night, and blinked as sunlight shone onto his face.

Regaining his bearings, he tried looking around to guess what had happened. His bag sat uncharacteristically neatly on the chair — a tiny eye staring at him — and his suitcase was opened next to it. He had no messages when he checked, service unable to reach where he was.

Wemmbu twisted his head side to side, trying to rid himself of the everpresent crick in his neck. He was unsuccessful. Eventually after burying himself even further into the blankets he knew he had to get up. He quickly shoved everything away before making his way to return the keys – he had a goal for today, that is, to find a car.

It was a wonder how he had managed to navigate to a motel in the first place. With no reliable public transport, he knew he really needed a car — and that the only way to travel was to rely on his minimal driving skills. Wemmbu also needed a plan, but that would come after he had finished the first step.

Walking along the road, Wemmbu cringed every time his suitcase bumped into an unfortunate rock below. The road was filled with potholes and there was visible water damage along the sides. Against his better judgment he kicked the side of a pothole, and could only glare at it when a sharp pain hit his toes in return.

What the fuck. That was not on him.

The area was vastly empty, and an hour into his walk the only things that had passed were three trucks, two vans, and four cars – not that he was counting properly. One had pulled over asking if he was alright with his belongings, as apparently he looked too ‘pathetic’ to ignore.

He only felt a little embarrassed shaking his head continuing forward. The suitcase was slowly becoming a burden, a workout he hadn’t had in months. It was much colder than he was used to as well, even with the bright sun the freezing air left his fingers numb.

Eventually he found himself in front of a motor shop. With rusted over metal walls, overgrown weeds slipping through the concrete, and sunflowers planted out front it looked to be in desperate need of a repair. As he walked in, he noticed a single man sat behind the counter, staring at the shelf and twisting a nut around his finger. The room was large and filled with a warm orange light and a radio played softly in the background. The man looked up from where he was staring.

Wemmbu feigned nonchalance, looking around, “Yo, can I rent a car from here?” he paused, remembering, “for a few weeks if that’s possible.”

The man dragged his eyes over him, and he knew how he looked, ragged and tired. He levelled him with a deadpan expression before responding, “Yeah, you’ll have to sign a few things and I’ll need to check your ID. It’ll be a couple hundred for two weeks, and the price only goes up from there.”

Wemmbu nodded, “D’alright, could I get it ASAP? If possible, now or in a few hours.”

“Depends on what car you’re trying to get.” The man tilted his head in acknowledgement, standing and heading to a door next to the counter, “I mean it is a short time frame but we don’t get too much traffic around here so the answer will probably be sure.”

Opening it revealed a garage out back, a few rows of cars standing before him, and the man headed towards a section with smaller vehicles. Wemmbu opted for the smallest model, before signing and receiving the keys. He paid for three weeks of the car, wincing at the dent it made in his savings, wallet noticeably lighter.

It could single handedly be described as one of the worst cars Wemmbu had the displeasure of driving. Back when he was in the hobby of — he lightheartedly coughed in his mind — borrowing cars with Wato, they had always broken into fancier models. Sitting in a rundown, beat-up, and old vehicle he had never felt more out of place.

Now that he had completed the first step, he revisited the little bits of the plan he had built up. His original few goals were to just get a car and head to some random location, with no G.P.S. and a shoddy map he purchased at the last minute. Now that he had the car he was less sure that was possible considering the illegible map.

Doing a couple turns around a parking lot he found, he decided to just go down what seemed to be the longest road he could see. It seemed to work so he continued driving. After a while, Wemmbu was bored out of his mind, and the only entertainment available was his pre-downloaded playlists, none of which had good music as he had been in the middle of reorganizing his albums.

Wemmbu ultimately found a parking lot overlooking what seemed to be a beach at the end of the road. Brochures sat in a cup nearby, and he tucked one away to look at later. Up on the cliff, it was even chillier than it had been, and he rubbed his hands in an attempt to maintain warmth. Friction, or whatever Egg liked talking about. Below however, he could spot kids running around and a couple sitting beneath an umbrella. Both looked out of place on the desolate coastline.

He felt like a creep from where he perched, but he was never one to say no to people watching. It was also one of his saner hobbies, and one of the few forms of categorizing he enjoyed. Multiple friends had told him his stare was awful and obvious, given his inability to move his own face.

Egg liked to joke that he had the world's worst case of botox — and he wouldn’t be wrong — he felt muscles tense and cramp whenever he tried to shift his expression.

Wemmbu sat, stared, and pondered. The sun had slowly made its way to touch the sea, and he watched the kids take out an egregiously red ball and throw it in some odd volley. They ran along the shore, and every few minutes one of the couple would stand and drag them back within their line of sight — confusing as there was no danger. No one was around for hundreds of meters besides him. He kicked his feet along the edge and counted the pebbles rolling even after the family left, trying to pass the time some more. Perhaps delaying his journey.

In his line of sight, there was a lone tree on a neighboring cliff.

Wemmbu didn’t want to go home.

The clanging of a bell rang overhead, and Wemmbu was nudged awake by someone beside him. In his blinking vision he could make out Egg’s terrifying light blue orb staring at him, and he instinctively jolted back in shock.

The blue eye rolled, and a familiar voice sounded, “Bro, why do you keep doing that, my eye isn’t that bad,” Egg nudged him again, “I swear man you do this every single day.”

Wemmbu whined and turned away in response, “Uh-uh, I don’t do it every single day,” he drew out his e, “Only the days you’re looking particularly brighter and shinier for some reason.” At last he rose, seeing packed bags and people leaving. “Bro how long was I asleep for, I for reaI tried to stay awake this time. It wasn’t even that boring today!”

"Uh yeah it is, it’s always pretty boring, that’s why you’re failing.” Egg replied before feeling a hard nudge back towards his arm, “Ow! Bro that hurts.”

“You totally deserve that.”

“I think you’re taking out your insecurities onto me for your inability to pass with higher than a C- in basic algebra.”

Wemmbu just rolled his eyes, getting up to leave. He hadn’t taken any papers out so there was nothing to pack. Stretching his arms above his head he turned back to Egg, “We’re hanging out today!”

Egg looked befuddled, “No we’re not? I have a paper I have to do man, it’s due next week and I’ll fail if–” he barely got half his sentence in before Wemmbu started dragging him off. If Egg truly needed to get it done he would’ve pulled himself away, instead, he let himself get dragged off, choosing to complain loudly instead.

The walk to the nearby park was filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. The playground they frequented was always empty, hidden behind a large hill, and had none of the fun equipment. The only mildly entertaining thing was the swingset, and Wemmbu remembered when he had sprained his wrist after accepting a bad dare to front flip off. He could in fact, not do that.

Dragging Egg onto the slide, he tried to push him down as he always did. Egg fell with a yelp, but managed to stay seated, giving a light shove to Wemmbu back.

They eventually found their way to the swings, and Wemmbu drew patterns in the woodchips with a stick he found as he watched Egg take the swing beside him. They swung in relative silence, enjoying the peace and the fresh air of the park. They did this most days without fail, and if Egg noticed the eyebags underneath Wemmbu’s eyes, he did not push.

Meaningless chatter eventually came up, and Egg recounted everything he had heard from the others.

“There was some more drama with Zam man, I swear it happens everyday.” Egg chatted, “and Flame got highest again on the recent test, which is expected, but I think I might have a decent chance at the next one.”

“Yeah,” Wemmbu hummed in response, pushing the woodchips forward whilst he swung.

“And some beef happened with the kids in the other class, I swear the local community has got to stop that fighting ring downtown.”

“Yep.”

“There was more news coverage on it, I wonder if they're actually going to shut it down, or if they’re fear mongering as per usual.”

“Mmhm.”

“You should give me your OSC.”

Wemmbu finally looked up, “I’m paying attention Egg, you’re not getting that.”

Egg averted his eyes, looking disappointed as he continued, “Worth a try?”

Two familiar voices reached the top of the hill, and a smile lit up on Wemmbu’s face as he recognized them. He kicked over his tower of woodchips, and looked up to hear the bickering he was accustomed to. The two spotted them on the swings, and turned to wave, one jogging down, face illuminated by the sun behind them. The other kept a slower pace, but was carrying bags of what they knew were snacks.

The memory blurred even further as the face rapidly approached, the sun’s glare getting into his eyes.

His headache got worse.

The sun had a terrible and recently consistent pattern of constantly shooting beams directly into his eyes. Dust wafted from the A/C vents sending Wemmbu into an immediate fit of sneezes. That has to be the worst way to wake up in the morning.

He had found another parking lot last night, and it seemed to be the only type of infrastructure he could find in the area. Wemmbu had also brought a blanket to try and sleep more comfortably in the backseat. It wasn’t as pleasant as he wished, but with few other options, it had to do. Spending and watching his savings deplete so rapidly like the day before made him uneasy.

Rolling his shoulders and neck out, he opened the brochure noting a small — more legible — map of the nearby area. He needed to find something to eat, and eventually located the nearest establishment, a diner named ‘Farlands’ a few miles away. There were limited options this far north, and few stops between long treks of road. All he could do was settle for whatever he could find.

Entering the diner, Wemmbu was greeted by the most trinkets he had ever seen in his life lining the walls. An odd scent of pine hit him as he goggled at the collections of random books, bottles, and even raw materials — iron, copper, and gold? — resting on the many shelves. A big map of the area was pinned up next to a table, and he ran his eyes over it, memorizing places that seemed important.

A kid sat at a nearby table, legs swinging back and forth as they watched Wemmbu enter. They were wearing an obnoxious hoodie with red and blue patterning poorly lasered on, and a set of headphones with similarly coloured stickers decorating it. Behind the counter an old man stood, mopping the floor with a languid expression, focused on his task.

There was little variety to the menu, and all the options were over his budget. Wemmbu ordered a small meal, a simple breakfast that seemed filling, and like it would fulfill his sweet tooth. He could feel the kids’ eyes digging into his back throughout the entire interaction, and it only got worse when he took a seat by a window.

After a few moments, he got fed up enough to stare back at the kid.

“Bro, I can feel you staring, do I have something on my face?” he asked, nose scrunching up in annoyance.

The kid suddenly looked away, apparently no longer wishing to look — avoiding his gaze.

Wemmbu kept his eyes on the kid, waiting for them to respond. This was now a war of who could be more aggravating and he was going to win.

“Nuh-uh,” they replied finally, voice high and squeaky, “you look homeless.”

He felt his jaw drop, and he looked over the kid’s attire again, giving him the most annoyed expression he could muster, “Kid, you cannot be talking insulting my drip when you’re wearing that.” Wemmbu looked down at his own clothes, white shirt tucked under a red and blue cardigan. He preferred formal attire, but he only had limited time and space to dress nowadays.

Embarrassingly enough the kid ignored him, not taking his bait, and went back to staring. They ultimately seemed to have come to a conclusion to their thoughts.

“My name is Firestar,” the kid started, stopping as Wemmbu couldn’t help but let out a loud chuckle.

“Bro, you cannot be serious. Firestar? What kind of chungie name is that?” Wemmbu couldn’t help but laugh louder at the kid — Firestar’s — expression.

Ignoring him again, Firestar kept going, “Are you looking for The Forge?” they asked, looking back at the old man in the kitchen, “Gramps gets a lot of those, and you look very suspicious anyways.”

Wemmbu tilted his head, confused. A forge? He had never heard of anything like that. It piqued his interest, and he couldn’t help but want to prod a little, seeing if he could get more information about the mysterious new thing – or location.

Unluckily for him the rational part of his brain won, and he just sighed instead. “No, that sounds cool but I’m here to do something else. Maybe another time?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Egg definitely needs more enrichment.”

The kid huffed and looked in the opposite direction, clearly annoyed. “If you’re not here for that, what are you here for anyways.”

“Hmm,” Wemmbu hummed, following their gaze to the shelves — a yellow flower? — before responding, “You know, I gotta do stuff. Adult stuff. Grown up adult stuff.”

Firestar blinked, “That wasn’t an answer!”

“You guys do have so much stuff though,” he continued, changing the topic, “How’d you manage to collect all of it?”

“Oh,” Firestar perked up at the question, “That’s gramps’s, he likes collecting random rocks. I don’t really get it but my favourite is the little cat statue over there!” they pointed at another shelf, where a ginger cat figurine was laying on its back arms reaching up. “It’s the only cat in this room!”

Wemmbu didn’t particularly care for their fun fact, but gave a small hum in acknowledgment. It was then that the old man came out at last with a large plate of pancakes, the smell of maple syrup wafting over.

He smiled as he placed it down in front of Wemmbu, before walking away to one of the shelves and pulling out a duster from his pocket. Methodically going back and forth, Wemmbu watched as the old man gently cleaned his collection. It didn’t take him long before he finished the pancakes, hungry as he was, and he quickly stood up to go pay.

“How much for the meal?” he asked, pulling out his wallet. It already felt a lot lighter in his hands then when he first flew over.

The old man walked back to the counter before looking him in the eyes and smiling. “It’s on the house, you look like you need it young man.”

Wemmbu felt somewhat humiliated at being called out so thoroughly, but he wasn’t in a position to decline. He nodded his head, and mumbled a quiet thanks before trying to leave the diner as fast as he could without looking back. Acknowledging the kid again would be too awkward, especially after he made fun of them and took free food. It wasn’t until he had opened the door, jingling the quiet bell, that the old man spoke one last time.

“Sometimes, we all need to stop thinking so much. Or perhaps in your case, start thinking more. Stay safe on your journey out there.” he spoke with a gentle voice. Wemmbu could feel two sets of eyes on him as he stood by the opened door, chill coming into the warm diner.

“Thanks,” he said, before quickly leaving and going back to his car without turning back.

He hadn’t noticed he was in his seat until the rumble of the old engine reminded him of where he was. Wemmbu dragged his hands down his face, feeling the swollen flesh beneath his eyes. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, knees to his chest, head in his hands, until he put his hand in his pocket and felt something that wasn’t his phone or wallet.

Taking it out, it was the small sunflower he had seen back in the diner. The yellow glowed beneath the sunlight reflecting out into a kaleidoscope of colours. He turned it over in his hands and placed it on the dashboard.

Wemmbu’s next path involved a bumpy path with nothing but forest around him. Sporadically there was a road leading out, but finding a paved path not in a city in the area was difficult. He picked a direction and followed it, unsure of where he was approximately heading or even how he would return. All he could do was hope he was heading in the right direction.

Going off parts of the map he could remember, he finally had a small semblance of a plan. There were certain views that intrigued him and the occasional landscape he wanted to stop by. Doing things gave him more purpose than sitting around after all.

He did have all the time in the world now, after all. At the thought, the air in his lungs felt heavier, and the nerves in his hand tightened. Brushing it off he continued forward, staring at the mass of trees he was entering. There were better things to think about.

When Wemmbu was younger he used to like tinkering and creating small contraptions. He wasn’t particularly skilled – all he did was take contraptions others had made and add his own personal flair. His favourite was a set of wires, rubber bands, popsicle sticks, and small cups he fooled around with to create a water cannon. Lovingly dubbed the ‘Orbital Strike Cannon’, Wemmbu had carried it around the playground chasing and threatening Egg. It didn’t do much damage, but it made him cool and feared in the eyes of the other kids.

The first time he got in trouble for it, he had knocked water over Zam’s model, a large scale clay construction of a city she had named ‘The Zam Empire’.

It was long in the past, but according to people — specifically Wemmbu anyways — Zam had gone through a weird power trip episode as a child, a phase of pretending to be an emperor and ordering the people around her to follow and listen to her instruction. Fiercely protective of her empire, she had thrown a fit resulting in a massive playground fight.

Wemmbu bore the brunt of the blame, unfairly he had thought, though internally he knew he was also very much at fault.

Two weeks prior, Zam had kicked over his paper model of his own empire. It had confused him, as she had told him to build it, and he had put in hours of work and even went to the trouble of getting the older kids like Horace to help. He had also thought they were good friends, with Zam allowing him to tag along and them hanging out virtually every day they could. Egg had even complained about feeling a little side lined with how much more Wemmbu had been hanging out with Zam.

Wemmbu became the laughingstock of the school in those two weeks as he sulked around school with nothing. The shame of what had happened, even after all those years, had stuck with him.

The two of them were stuck in mandated therapy sessions for weeks afterwards as they couldn’t tolerate being in the same room together. Wemmbu was already under heavier watch, so the more added to his record the closer he got monitored. Stressed out, he hadn’t dealt with the attention well. The therapy sessions did end up helping their relationship, however they never returned to how they were before.

What it did not end up helping was their individual personalities. Wemmbu knew that Zam had changed over the years, and had grown remorseful of what she did. He liked believing she didn’t however. He could not feel the same guilt back. In the sessions he had sworn never to cause harm again, though every so often he caught himself pettily stealing an eraser, or misplacing a pencil.

If she noticed, she never called him out on it.

Mentally, Wemmbu had promised himself to stop, but he felt like he lost control of himself sometimes, just following his whims and blinking back into existence after the consequences would start settling in. It was during this time that he had come to the realization that he would never be a ‘good’ person. It was a fact he could live with, but it was difficult to cope with how he didn't know how to change.

Sometimes he thinks back to how young they were, and how their problems seemed so inconsequential compared to the things they had to go through now. Sometimes he thought back to Zam’s bright hair, her penchant for tridents, and their bonding over everything else. Sometimes he thought back to how he would pass Zam in the halls for years of his life afterwards, both only sparing a side glance towards each other.

Sometimes he thought that forgiving was easy, it was just a little harder to let go.

This time around, he woke to darkness. Nothing but the stars and chirping of crickets. Checking his phone, Wemmbu realized it was three a.m. and he had woken hours too early. He couldn’t fall back asleep however, and after unproductively twisting and turning in the backseat, he stepped out of the car. The lot was empty and the stars had never been as clear.

The twinkling lights above seemed to form shapes, but Wemmbu didn’t know any constellation names. He was never good at remembering them. He knew that if Egg were there, he would’ve pointed them out, and their relevant stories, and he felt himself glancing at the pin on his bag.

Nearby, a sign pointed towards a hiking trail up the top of a mountain. There was a steep climb, and a few signs warning of missing railings but Wemmbu decided to follow it regardless. It took him a couple of hours, bumping into the odd plant and getting spooked by the wayward animal.

When he reached the top at last, it was nearing sunrise. Unsurprisingly — it was becoming a common recurrence — he found himself watching the sun.

Looking down from the broken wooden railing, everything seemed much smaller in comparison. Large expanses of trees covered the land in front of him, and mountains rolled off in the distance. The sun cast a warm glow, and the weight in his bag felt much heavier all of a sudden. He sat down on the ledge, uncaring of the dirt, and upon scattering what was in his hands, he murmured a few words before waiting for the sun to rise fully.

An invisible hand squeezed his heart, and he could hear his heartbeat. It was much clearer than usual, with the only noises around being that of nature. The silence reminded him of something familiar, and something he did not particularly want to put a name to.

For the past few nights, the same dream had been repeating. He had become a new person, and was given a second chance at life. He could walk around without feeling the need to fight and protect Egg constantly. Be a part of the humanity he felt stripped of. Forge a legacy that would remember him through his chosen actions, rather than the actions he had committed.

Wemmbu had never had a stronger desire for purpose — and for life. Watching the yellow fall down, he stood up and started making the slow journey back down.

The weight in his bag was only a little lighter.

Sitting in front of his computer, Wemmbu stared at the ticket again. He had been debating it for a few weeks, but had been unable to gather up the courage.

The dark room was illuminated with the light, casting a shadow onto the floor. His card was next to him, money he had been saving for years, the red sale sign staring back at him from the computer.

Checking his phone again, there were multiple messages popping up from Egg and Minute, both confused after he had stormed out. Wemmbu had a difficult time regulating his temper recently, and he was unsure of how to face them after everything that had happened.

> eg

bro are you okay Wemmbu?

Can you please respond, I’m worried

Can you come back please

It’s been hard but can you please come back

We’re worried

Please

> minute

Wemmbu, Egg and I understand if you need space, but please let us know if you’re alright. He’s very worried and so am I.

We’re here if you need us so please don’t be afraid to reach out.

Wemmbu stared at the message notifications, reading through the most recent ones.

Everything had started to take its toll on him physically and mentally, and he knew he was volatile. It was his first time out in two weeks, and something had set him off again. He snapped at people too easily, and was reverting to habits he had thought he worked himself out of. Wemmbu’s deteriorating physical health was not helping either, as he couldn’t sleep or muster up the energy to do anything then to pace or stare at his wall.

In the corner of his room, a small pocket sized photo sat reflecting the computer light. It was smashed and torn beyond recognition.

Wemmbu had promised himself, and Egg, that he would get up earlier today. He had been feeling a little better, and catching glimpses of himself he didn’t recognize how much he had changed. His eyes sunk in slightly, roots grown out from the bleach, and he was shades paler — looking ghastly. The hair he was so proud of was matted at the ends, oily from his scalp, and tangled everywhere else.

Today was supposed to be his day to get better. His do something productive and not waste time day. He didn’t make it halfway through before running off.

Behind him, the room felt emptier than usual, even more so than when Mane cleared out half his stuff.

Rubbing his eyes, he was tired. He turned and powered off his phone before picking up his card and inputting the numbers slowly, seeing the reflection of his eyes in the dark room against the screen.

The ache in various parts of his body only got worse the more days he slept in the car. Days and nights on the road were having its effects, and he knew he was looking like it too. His hike a few days ago had left his body completely sore, exasperated by his previous lack of activity.

The only structures he had seen for a week had been parking lots. Nature had so much to show, but besides the occasional small house, the only thing around was patches of land or park scattered around natural sites. Getting up, he sat in the seat staring at the new run down parking lot. This one had no potholes – it had no pavement – so it was already much higher on the list than the other few he had encountered. This one didn’t take 30 minutes to park as well.

It was also shielded by trees, providing a nice shade. He moved, and went back into the driver's seat, laying his head atop the steering wheel. With no caffeine, he still felt groggy thirty minutes later.

Wemmbu was wallowing in his misery — and tiredness — until a flash of bright red peeked its head out from behind a tree. A familiar face walked into the lot from what seemed to be a small path between the trees, and he recognized the face as an old classmate, Pangi.

He instantly blinked awake, sure that pure disbelief could be seen on his features. He stepped out and waved until Pangi noticed him.

“Pangi!” he called out, “what are you doing all the way out here?”

Pangi turned, blinking a few times at Wemmbu before realizing he needed his glasses. Sliding the familiar dark shades onto his face, his face changed expressions, shock suddenly evident.

“Wemmbu?” Pangi exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically, “I could be asking the same about you bro! Huh, I feel so confused.”

His eyes squinted as he stared at Wemmbu even further.

“Bro you do not look good, is everything okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Wemmbu looked carefully at Pangi again. His hair somehow became more red, the colour bright against the trees, and just like him he seemed much paler, as if he hadn’t gotten enough sunlight for a while.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone asks the same question. I’m fine bro, you?”

“Thats good to hear! I’m here on some getaway retirement thing? Man, I don’t even know, Zam has all the details. I think I’m here as some emotional support friend or something.”

Wemmbu found himself blinking in disbelief for what seemed to be the second or third time since he had woken up only thirty minutes ago.

“Sorry, let me repeat that, getaway retirement thing? Pangi, are we not recent graduates or have I forgotten 40 years of your life.” he asked, confused, “Also wait, Zam’s up here too?”

Pangi laughed, “Bro, I know, I was shocked as well. Who knew she’d seek out early retirement so fast. You know how wealthy her family is and she wanted some company and would pay me really well. It felt like rejecting easy money not to come, LOL.”

“So you’ve just been living out here for what, a few months?”

“I mean when you put it that way yeah,” Pangi didn’t even have the audacity to be ashamed.

Wemmbu let out a huff of air, “That’s kinda sad man.”

“It seems like you’re doing the same thing so how sad can it be?”

“Touché.”

Feeling fully awake, grogginess escaping Wemmbu, he felt as though he could finally respond properly. While Pangi did look a little tired — like him — he seemed alright, if not a little bored.

“If you’re here by yourself, where's Zam?” Wemmbu inquired.

Pangi nervously shuffled on his feet, unsure of what to say. “Well you know, she flew back a little to get some more things, I was just told to hold down the fort while she’s gone.”

The face Wemmbu made this time was no longer at the absurd situation they were in, but at Pangi himself. “I’m astounded she left you here by yourself and you stayed.”

“Well, it’s good money. I’ll only be staying here for a few years anyways before I’ll have essentially made enough to retire for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, but these seem like the most boring times of your life.” Wemmbu laughed softly. “It’s fine bro do what you want.”

“Wait,” Pangi interjected, “I’ll show you where I’ve been, it's seriously been fine. It’s also uncomfortable to stand talking about such serious things in a parking lot.”

They looked at the lack of everything around them, exchanged glances, and Wemmbu followed Pangi as he moved quickly through a small path into the woods. It trailed for a little while before stopping by an exceptionally big cottage, in a beautiful clearing. With natural sunlight, and big windows, Wemmbu had no doubt that Zam was living her perfect luxury life.

He could even spot a helicopter landing pad around the corner. That explained his question at how she could leave and come back so easily.

Outside aside, the home was cozy and warm. Pangi had added his personal touches into everything, and the house seemed to have its utilities taken care of with an electrical generator. As Pangi busied himself with cleaning up imaginary dust, Wemmbu stared at jealousy towards the soft looking couch. He finally remembered something about himself.

“Bro,” Wemmbu called out, “Can I take a shower, I reek of everything.”

“I mean yeah dude,” Pangi replied, stepping closer to give him a good sniff, “Oh geez, go for it, I’ll be out here waiting. Do you want apples?”

Wemmbu nodded before going to find the washroom. He may have also taken some of Zam’s clothes that were collecting dust. She wouldn’t notice anyways. The washroom had a full length mirror, where he spent over five minutes staring at himself. He was thin, tired, and his hair had a few inches of black showing at the roots. Covering up the mirror, he raided Zam’s cabinet and scrubbed the most expensive things he could find on his face. Walking out clean with fresh new clothes made the imminent conversation with Pangi much more bearable. He was actually a little inclined to listen to him now.

Pangi was sitting on the couch watching some show named Decayed and Decrepit? He wasn’t too sure, he only remembered that some of his other friends were very interested. He knew Egg really liked it at the very least, and one of their deskmates — Saparata? — was starring in it.

Without looking up, perfectly emulating a balding 40 year old father — probably his own to be honest — Pangi spoke, “Oh you’re finally out, that took so much longer than I expected.”

“I mean,” Wemmbu stared at himself, “It takes a lot of time to look this good. Or maybe I have ten times the hair you do and it will take ten times the amount of time?”

Pangi gave him an unimpressed look before gesturing to the seat next to him. He took it as gracefully as he could, which is to say, not at all.

They sat in silence, just staring at the screen watching the scenes go on. Wemmbu’s thoughts drifted back to Egg for what felt like the millionth time since he started this trip. He wondered if somewhere out there, Egg was still wondering about him, or if Egg was also watching this episode air at the moment.

Next to him, Pangi was as comfortable as he could be. He seemed content to sit in silence rather than his usual chatter, sparing him a glance only occasionally — as if checking he was still there. He also noted Pangi’s eyes darting to his phone, as if he was waiting for a response. Wemmbu knew what those glances meant, and he knew he couldn’t afford to stay and relax for too long.

There was clearly an alternative reason for bringing him in, and now that Wemmbu had taken what he needed, he was prepared to leave. He rose, ignoring Pangi, and made his way to the kitchen snagging any wrapped snacks he could find before preparing to leave.

“Wait!”

A voice called out from behind him, “I thought you were just getting snacks, why are you leaving bro?” Pangi looked stunned, which was surprising considering how obvious he had been.

“We’ve talked it out bro, I’ve got to get going now. Places to be, y’know?” he made a vague shrugging motion with his hands, before reaching for the door. Wemmbu gave a small salute, “Anyways, you have a nice place, you’re right. Toodle-loo!”

In an act of athleticism he typically didn’t associate with Pangi — he leapt across the couch towards him and tackled him. “You’re not going anywhere until you answer my questions man! I was giving you time to get comfortable, not to run away!”

Wemmbu blanched, now sat on the floor, bag flown askew. He scoffed, before turning his head to look at Pangi properly.

“Okay bro, what’s your question?”

Pangi seemed to brighten at the response, instantly firing out questions, “Where have you been? How are you doing? Are you going back soon? It’s been months, nearly a year, everyone is worried, and Egg has messaged basically everyone asking about you. I’m not sure he’s functioning well.”

At the onslaught of questions, he blinked as he stared at Pangi. The silence stretched, as Pangi adjusted himself and waited for an answer. Minutes passed, and noting his lack of response, Pangi drummed his fingers against his leg, eyes darting back to the TV to watch the show while he waited. Surely this kid’s attention span isn’t that bad.

He sighed, collecting his thoughts, “I’m not telling you bro, and I sent Egg a message before I left, so he’ll be fine. I’m not sure how this concerns you.”

Hearing his voice, Pangi turned back before casting a judgmental glance over how he was dressed and how he looked. “I was curious, I guess? Nobody has seen you in so long and I find you in a parking lot all the way here looking dead on your feet. You also look homeless.”

“Not the first person to say that this week.”

“The other person was clearly right though, I mean bro, that shirt you were wearing has seen better days. So has your hair, makeup, skin –” Wemmbu slammed a hand over his mouth, unwilling to hear him list more things off.

“Well you helped me out by letting me in here, but I’m seriously fine. No need to get into the details, that's just rude.”

Pangi’s sad eyes seemed to get even sadder, “Sorry, you just know everyone has heard the news about Rejoice. Seriously, knowing you’re alive has been reassuring.”

Wemmbu suddenly felt the need to throw up. He hadn’t wanted to think about that for awhile, much less from Pangi of all people. He thought he was over it. He was getting over it, he had the urn to prove it. He just needed a little more time as his adoptive parent put it — to get over himself. Maybe get over everything else too.

He really thought of what he was doing, in a shack in the woods, sitting on the floor next to Pangi. More than a week into a journey he had begun on a whim, with no proper planning. Pangi and him had been friends, once, maybe. A coalition over the monkey bars in middle school, a fight that got out of hand, and Ash's need for power. They barely talked after that.

What was he doing out here?

With a push, he stood himself up and brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders. Wemmbu picked up his bag and left the house, leaving Pangi looking sad but understanding on the floor. As he stepped out, a voice called out behind him.

“Stay safe out there! I’ll still be here for a bit, so come back if you need anything else! Zam won’t be back for a while!”

The walk back to his car was awkward, and he felt himself get angrier the further he was from the cottage. As he sat, he dropped his head against the steering wheel causing a loud beep out of the car. He thought back to Pangi’s last words, and how dusty Zam’s things were.

Wemmbu supposed he wasn’t the only one who was lonely.

Every so often, the odd dream escaped him. Wemmbu would find himself trapped in a memory, watching as an observer. This time he seemed to be actively involved. He woke up aware of where he was, having taken a nap on Rejoice’s couch. Bright laughter sounded in from his right, multiple voices overlapped as they giggled over something he couldn’t see clearly.

Click. re. A burst of giggles. Click. do. The giggles got louder, clicking getting faster to produce the worst combination of notes he had heard in his life.

Wemmbu felt light and happy. Euphoric even. The everpresent annoyance he associated with his daily mood seemed to have completely dissipated, and if he knew himself a tiny bit better he’d perhaps call the pressure in his chest fondness.

The memory seemed to blur more the longer he stayed, and he could hear the murmuring of voices but not recollect what they were saying. Everything grew white and fuzzy, and the nothingness behind his eyes welcomed him again as he fell asleep in his dream.

Rather than the sun, the light source he woke up from was the bright light of a truck passing him. Wemmbu’s small nap seemed to have passed faster than he expected, and he checked his map to estimate where he was approximately.

It had been days since he talked to someone, surviving off the snacks he’d taken from Pangi. Had his record not been two months, it would seem an impressive amount of time.

He could hear Egg’s nagging voice in the back of his head, some research paper about lack of human interaction shrinking the brain. He tuned out the voice as he typically did, focusing on his journey ahead instead. Having visited most of the interesting sites around, he only had two locations left before he felt truly satiated by the journey.

There was a waterfall Wemmbu needed to stop by, and his final destination was heading to an address he had saved. Then he would need to make the arduous trip back to return the car, and maybe think about a way to get home.

In his head, he turned over the idea of walking back to the border and then making the journey home before he dismissed it. He then entertained the thought again, before dismissing it once more. He would figure it out along the way.

The weather was a little unstable, flickering between rain and sunlight, with rainbows appearing. He did not feel as jolly as the rainbows depicted. The drive was worse today then it had been before, Wemmbu could feel the ache in his back more than ever, and his wrists throbbed.

If the others could see him now, what would they think about how far he had fallen, metaphorically, physically, mentally. There had been a few years when he wanted to be an athlete, fighting for a chance on his school team. His lack of understanding led him to tear a muscle, and he spent weeks in recovery. He only really thought about pursuing a sport again after he watched Mane sprint.

Mane was the fastest person Wemmbu knew, period. He was also who Wemmbu looked up to more than anything.

It had been two years since then, but one of his clearest memories was the small note, a gold chain, and boxes left inside a treehouse filled with old and new gear. The words stared back at him, and he had torn the paper faster than he had even begun to process it. Mane moved away that day, chasing after some bigger or better dreams. Or to run away and live the life he had always spoken of wanting. He didn’t care to ask.

Wemmbu stopped chasing after him, and Wemmbu also stopped trying. He focused less on technique and more on power, until he was told to stop until he could control himself more effectively. He never tried again after that, choosing to watch out the window as he fiddled with his pencil and other trinkets instead.

Wemmbu turned the chain around on his wrist, warm metal contrasting against his skin. He thought about the little lion plush he had ripped apart the day Mane had left, and how he kept the scrap of ripped orange fabric sewed into the inner pocket of his bag.

He kept driving.

Wemmbu properly met Mane and Flame in the first year of middle school. Mane was two years older, the coolest person Wemmbu knew, and excelled in anything sports related. He had also helped Wemmbu in passing with Zam awhile back, and he knew Mane was good at whatever he put his mind to. Flame was the smartest person in the grade, and followed in Mane’s footsteps in excelling at solo sports. He swam, ran, and threw shotput balls further than anyone on campus.

Egg would chastise Wemmbu for his behaviour afterwards, but Wemmbu had followed Mane around, cornering him after school, in hallways, and at the park. He would find ways to chat up Mane, and convince him to take him on as a trainee, some convoluted way of asking for help. Wemmbu hadn’t yet figured out how to get stronger but he was sure with Mane’s help he would.

The first time he saw them, Mane took a single glance at his and Egg’s shivering forms in the rain and a scowl crossed his face.

“Bro,” he groaned, dragging it out, “What are you two stupid chungies doing here man.”

Wemmbu beamed, “I want you to train me!”

The sun wasn’t out, but Mane’s eyes still squinted behind his sunglasses as he stared at them again, “Train you in what bro, you make this sound like some anime scene, we’re just some guys man.” He sighed loudly before gesturing for them to step under the bus stop with him.

If it wasn’t possible before, it was possible now. Wemmbu’s smile grew twice its size looking manic in its composition, “I know! But you’re the fastest and strongest at our school, and I want to be just as fast as you!”

Halfway through his passionate spiel, Mane’s eyes had already glazed over. It only took another few seconds until his eyes drifted back down to his phone, and another second until an alarm rang. “Oh well I can’t do it. I don’t like being bothered. It’s also time for my dinner so I’m going to be heading back so I don’t miss my meal,” Mane turned and jogged off in the opposite direction, running in the rain and away from the bus he was supposed to take.

“What!” Wemmbu pouted at Egg, “He can’t just run away like that! I was in the middle of my speech!”

“Nah dude, I’m pretty sure he can do that. Not gonna lie, that was really corny.”

“Okay, but I also really wanted him to train me!”

“Why do you even need to train so badly, you’re already pretty strong and you can defend me fine.” Egg lied, in Wemmbu’s opinion like a big fat liar, “You have your stupid water canon things and like, we live in the real world. Being so physically fit isn’t going to help you anyways.”

“Ugh,” Wemmbu whined, “I just wanna get stronger man, it’s so hard being weak here. This middle school is literally known for sports, and I’m not good at academics anyways. It always feels like I’m competing and losing against someone, heck last week I think Wifies had a stronger grip strength than me!”

“To be fair to Wifies, he’s just weirdly perfect at everything. Compare yourself to someone else.”

“Yeah but it’s still humiliating to lose against a kid like that compared to what, Clown?”

“I mean, I guess,” Egg took Wemmbu’s hands, tucking them in his pocket, both of them freezing, “I don’t think that warrants this whole anime training segment. Minute has a job at the local jiujitsu studio anyways, can’t you ask him.”

Wemmbu gave Egg a deadpan look, pinching his hand, “Minute’s kind of lame. If he makes another Batman reference I think I’ll explode.”

“M’kay, or you could be just like me,” Egg gave a half smile — half wince.

“No.”

“That’s mean, I do my best. It isn’t my fault I’m a lover and not a fighter.”

“You always say that but I’ve never seen you love anyone either.” Wemmbu giggled, “In fact I think all we do is hate and complain?”

Egg rolled his eyes and removed his hands before walking away, sun having come out during their argument.

“Bro!” Wemmbu loudly called, “You can’t just walk away when you don’t have a response!” He laughed louder as he caught up with Egg, bumping his shoulder.

“I still don’t get your goal, but I’m here man, and so is Minute. If this is about Zam, don’t feel too bad about that. There's still so much more to explore bro.”

“Nah, I just wanna do this for myself. I’m fine.”

“M’kay.” replied Egg distrustfully, “I’ve also yet to see when it’s been true.”

Wemmbu lightly shoved him, “D’alright bro, let’s stop psychoanalyzing me.”

His tone turned a little lighter, “Hey, if Mane isn’t willing to train me, do you think Flame will want to? He is our age.”

Egg turned his head, looking done with the entire discussion, “If Mane isn’t willing what makes you think Flame will have a higher chance of accepting.” He sighed loudly, “Mane already said it, we’re just some guys. Just get a teacher out there or something, student teachers aren’t going to work, and it’s probably not legal.”

Wemmbu blinked, “I mean obviously it isn’t legal. That’s the least important part of it.”

Egg looked like he wanted to bury himself into a hole and die.

Looking at Egg, Wemmbu contemplated more before realizing he also could not afford to get into any more trouble. “Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

They paused as Egg squatted on the side of the road, burying his head into his knees. “Bro save me, I’m stuck with an idiot and I have no way out.” Wemmbu kicked him while he was down, then giggled louder when Egg toppled over.

He would try asking Mane again tomorrow, he supposed. Now, he should spend time with Egg.

He reached the waterfall faster than he expected, taking only a few days. It wasn’t as grand as he imagined, and definitely not as exciting but he was here with a goal not to complain.

Watching petals flutter in the water, he felt lighter. It could be the lightening of his bag, or the feeling of a weight slowly making its way off his chest. Wemmbu had taken the journey not expecting anything, and nothing had happened.

Alone for most days, his thoughts were all he had, and the constant echo chamber was not helping with his mood. He could recycle the same few things every so often before it ended up drifting into things he couldn’t control. Wemmbu always ended up in the past, on things he was sure he had repressed.

It was depressing, he realized. It was just as sad as it was freeing. He was free now, freer to do things than in the past. No one could provide unwanted insight, and all his thoughts could be executed with no one to stop him. But as he stood, with the chirping of the birds, and splashing of the water he didn’t feel the urge to do anything. He wanted to go home and sit down.

His reflection stared back at him through the waterfall, water clear and bright. It contrasted the dullness in his eyes, and the mascara he hadn’t bothered to take off a few days before, smudging down his cheeks.

Closing his eyes, he stood there. The eye watched him. The sun watched him. The chain felt all too heavy around his wrist. The pressed flower he kept around his neck felt warmer than usual, and the coat he was wearing felt flimsy rather than protecting.

He kicked a rock into the waterfall, watching it skip along the river. It scared off some birds who made their way into the trees. Combing his hand through his hair he breathed in the air one last time before Wemmbu made his way back to his car.

He would be done soon anyways, the less he thought about it, the better it would be for him overall.

Rejoice was a funny addition into their little group, a completely unexpected one anyways.

The three of them — Wemmbu, Loppezz, Egg — were put into a group together by the unfavorable chance of luck. Their teacher had spun a wheel, and they had watched in muted horror as their names came together. Wemmbu loved and hated having Egg in projects, he had his best friend, but he could also slack a little less as Egg made him work. Loppezz and him had a bad history, but he thought they had gotten over it.

Loppezz hadn’t, if the glare she was levelling him meant anything.

They were the only group of three, and the teacher had asked them if they wanted one more member, as it was a big project. Rejoice chose then to bound into the room, energy cheery in a depressed room, with sunflower clips scattered throughout his hair. He was wearing a cardigan that in Wemmbu’s professional opinion had the worst colour combo: red and teal.

Everyone looked just as confused as the teacher, it was the middle of the year, and definitely not a time students could transfer into classes. After a few moments of heated discussions with the principal over the phone, their teacher looked as if they aged ten more years, and smiled before shoving Rejoice onto them as their fourth member.

“Hello!” Rejoice exclaimed brightly, sitting crisscrossed in the hallway next to him. Egg was situated on the side, already going through his notes to start the project. Loppezz was swinging a set of keys looking uninterested, but focused next to Egg.

It seemed like responsibility fell onto him.

“Hey bro, it’s just a history project, those two —” he gestured towards the two working “— have got this.”

“Oh.” Rejoice looked sad, before his thoughts switched back to cheery, “That’s okay! I can help too. I’m Rejoice by the way, I just transferred in!”

“We know bro.” the three of them sighed in unison, uninterested. While it was strange, it was none of their businesses.

Rejoice put a finger to his chin, “I guess introductions from you guys would maybe help?” he shook his head, “It’s been such a long time since I’ve talked to anyone! This is so cool!”

That did pique Wemmbu’s attention, “What do you mean by that?”

“I guess introductions from you guys would maybe help?”

“No no, the thing after.”

“Oh yes, I was kidnapped! I was found recently, then put into therapy, then they declared me okay so I could rejoin school!” He smiled as if it was a Tuesday, which it was. “Wow bad memories man but that's okay!”

The three of them gaped and stared at him. Wemmbu sat there confused with no clue how to answer. He was never media trained, especially not for topics like this.

Egg chose then to join the conversation, “I’m Egg, this is Loppezz, and that's Wemmbu.” Ignoring Rejoices' earlier comment, he took out his textbook and handed it to him, “Go through pages 249-286 and summarize them on a piece of paper please.” He turned his computer towards Rejoice, opening up the share file tab, tapping it. “Can you put in your email as well please?”

Rejoice beamed, typing it in happily as Wemmbu and Loppezz shared glances behind Rejoices’ back as he hunched over to type on the floor. Eventually they settled for shrugs as he sat back up.

After that, Rejoice had wormed his way into their little group. Loppezz had grown the closest with him, and Wemmbu had found their relationship improving by the sheer presence of Rejoice.

Rejoice was desperate for new experiences — perhaps trauma from the kidnapping — and Wemmbu couldn’t help but follow in any good adventure. So they would visit places in the city they hadn’t been to on the weekends, visiting new restaurants, cafes, and exhibits.

His favourite however, were the gardens. When Wemmbu finally got his driving license, Rejoice had made him drive him out of the city to see the fields, and to see in his words “nature in its natural habitat”. Wemmbu didn’t understand it, he was content to explore, but there were only so many sunflowers he could take photos of before the yellow got to him.

It should’ve been the first warning sign.

After a few months, when Rejoice had effectively fully integrated himself into their lives, did Wemmbu experience the first shock he ever had with him. Rejoice had come to him in the middle of the night, bruised up, and clearly back from a fight. He had found Wemmbu’s window and knocked politely, shining a flashlight into his eyes until he woke up.

Wemmbu had nearly screamed, and it was also the first time he managed to simultaneously pray to four deities at once. When Rejoice entered — quietly giggling — and Wemmbu saw the wounds on his body, he instantly got to work. Egg was better with actual medical knowledge, but Wemmbu had real life experience. He disinfected the wounds as gently as he could before turning an accusatory eye to Rejoice.

Rejoice didn’t have an answer for him. They stayed silent that night, Rejoice huddled in his multicolored cardigan, and Wemmbu sitting on the side watching over him.

Thinking back, he should’ve pushed harder. Should’ve asked more questions. Should’ve been more welcoming towards him from the start. If he had been kinder in the beginning and welcomed him in, he wondered, would the same thing have happened?

The urn in his hands didn’t have a response.

Wemmbu woke up miles away from home, feeling lighter than he had in months. He was rapidly approaching the location written, and soon, he would find out what he had come all the way for. 

When he finally arrived, all there was around was a field of flowers and a small shack. Ugly and covered in dirt, it could be described as the nastiest thing he had ever seen. A small row of dead sunflowers sat in the flowerbed outside, brown and wilted. On the steps sat an unassuming small box. It was identical to the one he had been carrying the entire journey. 

Wemmbu walked up, picking up the box and turning it over in his hands. It took a little fiddling with the lock, but once he managed to break it open, he stared at the contents unsurprised. Within it sat a letter and a key. He tried putting the key into the lock of the original box and it opened with a small click. 

A sunflower brooch sat unassumingly in the center, and it was surrounded by chorus flowers. Buried beneath was a polaroid, dated and signed by Rejoice, taken when they had gone to the sunflower field. Wemmbu’s own face stared back at him, and he traced over the lines of his younger self – looking brighter, younger, and definitely more embarrassed. 

Putting the polaroid back, he went back to the letter. The outside was plain and wrapped in browning paper, Rejoice’s messy script clear. It started drizzling exactly then, water dripping onto his head, then the paper. 

Unfortunately for whoever’s reading this, I still don’t know what I’m talking about. If it’s someone completely random I’m so sorry, please just throw this out. 

If it did manage to reach the intended recipient, hi Wemmbu! I’ve really sent you on some wild adventure to do this, but I hope it was fun? You were never good at processing your emotions properly anyways, so think of this as a reconnect with nature journey! 

I don’t want you to come out of this feeling as if it was your fault. It was not. Nothing could’ve really changed my mind then, and in every universe I likely would’ve made the same choice. I was always kind of an adrenaline junkie. Everytime I reached out you were there for me, and that was more than enough. I hope reading this makes you feel better, lessen the burden, forgive and forget and all that. 

I actually grew up near here. A few hundred kilometers away (I know, sorry), there's a small town — you’ll know when you see the sign, it's really cool — and you’ll maybe find people who’ll remember me.

You can keep the brooch and the photo, those were meant for you. You better cherish it because that was my favourite piece of jewelry… and it also cost an exorbitant amount to ship out. Bro, I think I actually cried at the post office when I saw how much international shipping was. 

All in all, I really liked hanging out with you guys, and it was fun whilst it lasted. I know we haven’t known each other for too long, but please remember me in a positive light. 

Thank you for being my friend and thank you for everything,

Rejoice

It took longer than usual to get to the small town, even though the distance was nothing compared to how much he had gone through for the past weeks. For two hours, he sat in relative silence, radio off as he drove waiting to encounter the sign.

Finally showing up, it was yellowed, letters smudged. He could see a couple houses scattered around, getting denser as it conglomerated closer to what looked like a city centre.

Driving in, he parked in what looked to be a lot nearby. The dirt was rough, but it was connected to a small convenience store, and as he got off he took a good look at the flickering sign. Inside, a young man stood with black hair pulled back with gold clips scrolling through his phone at the counter. 

He scanned the store until he found the phone booth, and after triple checking to make sure it took international calls, dialed the number he knew by heart. It took a couple rings but he was sure the other would pick up no matter what. 

The line connected and a voice made its way over the speaker, softer than anything he had heard in months.

“Hello? Who is this?” it asked tentatively.

Wemmbu let his face relax into a geniune smile, “Hi Egg.”