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Firey and Leafy were sitting together on the grass, comfortable in wherever they are by the campfire.
“Hey, Fireman. What if I was the danger?” Leafy asked out of the blue.
“Huh? Like what if you could kill me instead?”
“Sorta. What if I was the one who could hurt you instead?”
“...Do you want me to die?”
“No! I mean.. I just wanna feel what it’s like to be you, but less...—”
“Didn’t we do that before back then? When you splashed water on me?”
“Well, yeah, but what I’m thinking is a bit different from that. I don’t want you to be on the brink of death — I want you to be in pain.”
That was so straightforward, Leafy almost startled herself. “Uh...” Firey only responded with a nervous chuckle.
“You won’t die! I’ll assure you that, but I... kinda miss my knife.”
“Go on.”
“And I miss that time in the island, you know when,” Leafy looked down in embarrassment, “or something.”
She felt the weather getting hotter, or it was Firey beside her.
Leafy continued, “Think about it: you’re made out of air so technically you can be any shape. It wouldn’t matter if I actually scarred you while you’re metal, ‘cause you’re gonna be back to normal once it wears off!”
...
This takes the crown for their unspoken “who’s the weirdest” competition.
Fortunately, Firey likes it when Leafy gets weird, and his past guilt started to creep up from deep inside, so— “I’m in.”
“Seriously?” She genuinely looked surprised.
“What?”
“It’s just... I didn’t think you’d be on board that fast. Like give it some thought first.”
“I trust you. I’ve never had a scar in my life!”
“Yeah,” Leafy touched the small notch near her apex, “wish I could say the same.”
They just stared at each other. Awkwardly... for a couple seconds... before Leafy grabbed her knife from behind.
“Woah, woah!” Firey jumped away from her, like a startled cat. “We’re doing this now!? Don’t we usually prepare for these things first!?”
“We didn’t prepare anything last time,” Leafy walked towards him as she tapped her fingers on the wooden handle of her knife, “and it was way better than anything we did in Dreamier Island...”
“Hold on— I don’t—” he frantically looked around, searching for the bag of yoyleberries.
“Don’t you have yoyleberries ready on hand?” Leafy asked and frowned at him.
“Well, no?? I think it’s just you that has them all the time!”
“Firey... do I have to be the one to do everything around here?”
“Haha— no! No, wait! Leafy—”
“The yoyleberries are over there.”
Before Firey returned to Leafy, he was mentally preparing himself.
He knows what it’s like to be solid, but he’s only been in that state for a small portion of his life, so he’s not used to it. He feels heavier, more grounded, as if his limbs multiplied. It’s a weird type of discomfort, but he always adapted to it in no time.
This time, he couldn’t adapt.
There’s something else about getting protection to get hurt compared to getting protection to not get hurt. The latter is a safety precaution, and the former is a kink.
He will get hurt — that’s already decided, so that’s not the reason he couldn’t get used to being metal. It’s the fact that he will get hurt to get off. The fact Leafy will be the one inflicting it on him.
This is different from getting splashed by water. He will feel a different sort of pain. A pain that won’t have him waltzing around death’s door; he will take his punishment, and feel every bit of it.
...Firey took a deep breath and walked back.
“Hey, Fireball! Or should I say, Metalball?”
Firey shouldn’t have come back. “Ha-ha-ha.”
“Loosen up, Firey! Why are you so tense for!?” Leafy went over to massage his arms and shoulders, which were visibly as stiff as rocks. “It’s just me. I won’t do anything you don’t like.”
“Sorry... I just feel a bit... uh, nervous? For some reason. I know you won’t.”
“Still don’t trust me?—” “No! I just.. hehe— I just really, really like you.”
“...” huh? “Really now?” She adjusted her hold on the knife to grip it tighter.
“Wait! Leafyyy!!!” This is going nowhere. “Wait! Seriously! I just... don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Firey, we don’t have to do this now.”
“But I am ready! I just...” “Just???” “...just need to find the words.. wait.”
Firey paced around the area, circling around Leafy, then their campfire, then stopped in his tracks, turning to face her.
“Okay I found them: I just can’t believe you’re the one that’s gonna hurt me."
“...That’s all?”
“Yeah! And I like you.”
Leafy felt herself getting flushed at that, “Aw shucks, Firey...” but she brushed it off. “Are you ready now?” She can’t get shy before the act even starts!
“If you are.”
“I have been!”
“Okay,” Firey (clumsily) got down in front of her and (awkwardly) laid himself on the grass, preparing to take what Leafy is about to give him, “I’m your canvas.”
Leafy giggled as she sat down beside him, touching his body starting from his face — it’s colder than usual, definitely, but there’s still a warmth within. He really will never be the right temperature for her unless she wants to hug a heater.
She moved her hand around, watching Firey’s reactions, figuring out where he’s sensitive. His breathing seemed to get a little faster, but that’s probably from the fact he’s being touched in places where he doesn’t get touched. At all. Leafy doubts anyone else touched him like this when he was metal.
Then, she hit the jackpot when she reached the top part of his head — the dip at the middle of his fiery spikes. “Oh!” He flinched and tried squinting his eyes further the deeper she touched. He got more sensitive the closer she is to the center. “This is probably your equivalent to my little stub that you like toying with so much,” she teased.
Leafy moved her hand off him and finally pulled out her knife. Firey has also been waiting for this. She noticed his eyes widen and his body stiffen up, “Eager, aren’t you?”
He nodded, “We’ve been delaying this for too long. Do your worst!”
“I might end up actually hurting you!”
“Isn’t that the point?” ... “And I wouldn’t be mad at that — a permanent mark from you...”
Leafy sighed and pointed the tip of her knife over his cheek, “If you say so.”
She hovered it around, with light pokes that would startle him and make him grow more wary. Firey was put on edge, and considering how unpredictable Leafy is sometimes, he didn’t know when she’ll actually start hurting him.
Then both metals touched, the blade’s chill cutting through his warmth. She cautiously moved from his cheek to his chin to wherever else her knife felt like. Firey sat still, most of his nerves shaking. There was a pressure, but not hard enough to elicit any real reaction. The scraping noise that he used to find unbearable feels deserved now, slowly developing a sort of fondness for it. It became a pleasant sound as it went on, which he didn’t want.
Leafy continuously dragged her knife wherever, leaving light streaks and small trails of metallic dust. Her eyes almost looked lifeless. “You okay?” Firey interrupted, snapping Leafy out of her flow state. “Yes, yes, just... um...” “Can you go deeper?”
“What?”
“Go rougher on me, I need to feel more,” Firey rolled to his side, back facing Leafy, so she has more space to play with, “and I think you’re getting bored...”
She is, and so she will, after some teasing. She used the spine of the knife to drag around his back, dull enough to not leave a mark, but sharp enough to make him think this she’s using the edge. Slowly convincing him she got softer, he was about to speak up before the knife switched position and stabbed him. “Ack—!” It wasn’t a full-on stab that would leave a hole, but it was deep to leave an indent. Yoyle metal actually isn’t that resistant to getting punctured, as proven by the syringes storing freeze juice.
Firey completely underestimated how strong Leafy is. “Was that okay?” Leafy asked, ignoring the fact she startled the balls out of him. “Yes! O.K.!” He shakily put up a thumbs up and immediately dropped it as she started carving him deeper with the knife’s edge. It caused dark scars, unlike the light scratches she was leaving earlier.
His breathing was loud and he was shivering. Sometimes he’d hold in his breath with each cut. Leafy kept going, sometimes digging deeper and feeling his warmth transfer to the handle. She’s close to his core.
“Y’know, Firey, I miss doing this to myself.”
Firey was about to turn to her before remembering he was currently getting a deep carve— it hurt like hell, and Leafy immediately pulled the knife out and dropped it on the ground. “I’m sorry!” Leafy genuinely looked concerned and hugged him, her other hand gently massaging the fresh wound. Firey curled himself up in pain.
“It’s— it’s fine! It’ll heal itself when I go back to being fire... I hope.”
“It will! You’re made out of gas after all!”
Firey kept repeating what Leafy said earlier, and while she couldn’t see it, he was visibly worried. “Leafy.”
“Yeah?”
“What did you mean by... doing this to yourself?”
“Oh, um,” he could feel her getting a bit uncomfortable recalling, “things back in BFDIA, you know, haha—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he didn’t want to ruin this entire thing by being invasive, especially when Leafy suggested it, “it’s okay. As long as you’re better now.”
Now that he thought about it, that’s why Leafy looked way too battered when she revived him back then. He avoided looking at her (spark, even perceive her), especially in the eyes, but whenever he did get a good look, some of her injuries seemed... intentional. He assumed it might’ve been the others who attacked her, but he couldn’t imagine anyone doing that rather than outright killing her. As far as he knew, nobody showed a desire to actually torture someone else, not even Leafy.
“No, uh, can I tell this to you now?”
“If you’re okay with it.”
“I think you already got the idea when I suggested this earlier today. All those years ago, I’ve always been in pain, either because of me or the others — especially if it’s you. The only person I could hurt was myself, but I always imagined doing it to you. And when I finally got to be with you again, those thoughts faded, but they’d come back sometimes and I’d have to stop myself. What would the others think if I hurt you? I’d be considered a danger again.” Leafy hesitated before continuing, “I’ve been told before to stay away from you all, but I didn’t want to. I want to be with everyone, be with Pin, Icy, Book, Pencil... you.”
“I had to stay nice, but...” Leafy realized this was getting too heavy, so she wrapped it up nicely, “I want to hurt you.”
Firey already figured that out, but it would never stop giving him the chills. He knew Leafy loves him, and she did, so much so she wasn’t the usual friendly (but annoying and somewhat off-putting) girl most people saw her as. She’s herself at her most vulnerable, and she trusts Firey with it. She didn’t have to always be nice to him because she loves him enough to trust he believes she loves him.
She was still massaging his wound, she constantly checked on him if he was doing okay, she wants him to be well, and she wants him to get hurt by her.
Leafy is selfish, and Firey knew that. He is too. They both always have been.
“I want to feel you squirm,” he heard her pick up the knife again.
“I want to see you in pain,” he felt its edge gently press on his back.
“I want to hear you hiss,” and she plunged it into him. He yelped and tried to stay still.
Keyword: tried. He involuntarily jumped away from her, losing the comforting touch on his injury.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes... keep going...”
“Firey...” She kept stabbing him, but never deep enough for the pain to be unbearable. “You’re a coward. You left me hanging, ignored me for years on end, and now you’re letting me do this to you? Do you think you deserve this?”
Firey sucked in his breath, thinking whether he should answer or not.
“Can you face me?”
Firey turned to her, still lying down. His facial expression is soft, almost endearing in fact. Leafy didn’t know how to feel about that. Firey’s body was reacting away from the pain, but Firey himself wanted the pain. Firey was enjoying every second, but Leafy wanted it to be as unpleasant as possible. Leafy wants to make sure Firey is safe, but Leafy is the one hurting him.
“I love you,” she continued dragging the knife around his face, “and this isn’t even a fraction of the pain you gave me.” She cut, slit, slashed, sliced, but she never touched his eyes or mouth.
While she was focused on making sure her knife was doing a number on Firey, he stared at her rear. Her petiole was wagging like an excited dog, “You’re.. hhh... the cutest when you’re excited...” so he teased her about it.
The scratching noise stopped as Leafy stared at him with her cheeks blushing. Her tail stopped wagging, but she obviously got shy, “Firey, you still really need to learn how to speak at the right times.” Despite the scolding, she had a silly smile that reached both sides of her face.
Her smile dropped as she thought more, “It’s weird. Should I do this to you if I love you?”
“Should I be enjoying this if I’m getting hurt?” Firey said in a mocking tone. “We’re both enjoying this. Relax, Leafs.”
Leafy took that as a sign to go further by touching the erogenous top of his head, and she looked to watch his reaction. His face was so full of cuts, she got a little dizzy staring at it, thinking, she did that. Firey jolted at the sudden contact, but his eyes still had the same amount of affection (if not more) for her. “Can I?” Leafy asked. “Go.”
She brought her knife up and slowly tried slicing one of his peaks, but, “Agh— can you not do that? It hurts too much...” “Sorry,” Leafy moved to poke and drag around on the dip, “is this better?” Based on his reaction, which was his face scrunching up and a shaky moan, she assumed it is.
“Firey, I never thought you’d let me do this.” She kept going, and Firey’s little sounds kept fuelling her, “I thought I’d put my past behind me, but it kept haunting me and I’d feel terrible.” She used her other hand to caress one of his points, “so when you asked me if I could splash you— if I could hurt you— I’ve never felt so conflicted in my life.”
Leafy watched Firey as he looked back at her and smiled, “I love you, Firey. Love shouldn’t make me feel good to see you hurt with my own hands.” His sweet smile surrounded by many light lines and deep incisions trailing around his body was exhilarating to observe, “but it feels good, to both me and you. Is that what love is? When the both of us complement each other?”
Leafy dropped the knife and hugged him, her body draping over his. And for the first time in his life, Firey felt liquid roll down his body. Leafy started crying, “I love you, Firey! I love you so much! But I want to make sure you’re hurt, and you are!” She wailed, and Firey moved his arms to hug her back despite the soreness.
“I’m not all that nice, aren’t I?” Leafy murmured.
“...Nobody’s nice all the time,” Firey whispered.
They stayed like that for a while before Leafy got up and brought out a yellow tomato. “I’m sorry. Here,” she placed the tomato in front of him and backed off. He looked at it for a while, letting himself simmer in the stinging pain before picking it up. He sat up and took a bite, turning back to normal.
Leafy’s theory was right: He didn’t have any visible scars, but there were still some phantom pains on the severe cuts, especially on his back. “You... agh..” he groaned, “you really let it all out on me...” When he tried standing up, Leafy went to hold his arms as support. He continued, “I love you too, you know that?”
If there’s one thing that keeps Leafy grounded, it’s Firey’s warmth. She missed it.