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Tommy tagged along behind Dream.
“Wings out, Tommy. You know the drill.”
Tommy nods, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his head when he takes his wings from his back, sitting limp as he pulls them through the specific holes in his nice red jacket.
It’s the only nice thing he has.
“Right, come on Tommy.”
Tommy nods, and allows himself to be dragged into the manor.
The party started an hour ago, it was his fault they were late. He was being difficult.
Dream tugged him to his side at a times, if he was even two steps ahead of him he’d be shoved right back.
It was only fair.
Tommy spent most of the night being shoved around by Dream, being shown off to different people, people with too much money, who were only mildly interested in Dream’s “beloved brother”.
A small part of Tommy’s brain registered that this was wrong, yet he ignored it, in favour of being good.
His wings itched, of course they did. They ached and itched to be free, to be flying.
It wasn’t until Dream tugged him to a particular guest that things started to get interesting.
Come Philza Minecraft, the owner of the estate, one of the richest and most powerful men in the entire city. He was also why tommy was “valuable” or whatever. Mr Minecraft, coincidentally, also had wings. They were much, much nicer than Tommy’s, big and shiny, the feathers all smooth and clean. Tommy couldn’t stop looking, yet the thought of other people staring at his wings made him tug them closer to his back.
“Philza! How great to see you again!”
Philza looked up, his face visibly scrunching when he caught eyes of Dream.
“Dream, Dream. How can I help?” His smile was strained.
“Could I possibly introduce my brother to the room? If that’s not a bother, of course.”
“Oh go ahead,” Phil smiled. “You’d do it anyway even if I refused. Besides, I’ve been dying to meet the boy.”
Tommy froze. He didn’t want to “meet” Mr Minecraft.
“Thank you, Phil.”
Phil smiled thinly.
Dream tugged him to the centre of the hall, where he then proceeded to get everyone’s attention.
“Everyone! Sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m sure you won’t mind once you meet my little brother, who you can speak more to once we have some deals going. Now,” Tommy visibly recoiled, “Can I introduce you to Thomas Wast Aken!”
The crowd blinked. Dream looked down at Tommy, who was curled into himself.
“Tommy,” Dream hissed. “Spread your fucking wings.”
The idea of showing his wings to a crowd of people was physically repulsive, yet he wasn’t going to disobey Dream. Not- not like last time.
He swallowed, then shakingly stretched his wings out part way, showing them off to the crowd.
The crowd of people rushed in, and Tommy could feel them running their fingers through his feathers, he could feel them getting grease and dirt in his already gross and icky wings.
He tried not to, but he felt tears slipping down his cheek. He wanted to throw up, and cry, and die, and-
He wanted these people to go away.
Someone was ripping out handfuls of feathers, and he was reduced to nothing but a crying blob of pain and suffering.
He felt his wings bleed, and heard someone talking about if they’d get to chop them off and mantle them somewhere if they did a deal with Dream.
And Dream said yes.
Tommy couldn’t fucking do this anymore.
And then there was yelling. It was too loud. But it was there, just something else to make his torture worse. This was worse than when he disobeyed Dream, worse than every time he’d disobeyed Dream, ever.
It took him a second to realise that the hands in his wings had gone, and that nobody was touching him. He was just curled on the floor, tears streaming down his face.
Tommy blinked, and then looked up. Everyone had dispersed, including dream. People were still throwing glances here and there, but they weren’t near him.
The only person near him was Mr Minecraft, who was sitting cross legged on the ground.
Tommy sat up slowly, his arms shaking as he pushed himself into more of a sitting position, rather than the hopeless lump he was sitting previous.
There were still tears streaming down his face, and his wings felt so utterly disgusting, and so blindingly painful.
“Hey, mate. How are you?”
Tommy blinked.
“Thought so.”
They sat like that for a while, Tommy not even noticing when the hall emptied for some unknown reason.
Finally, finally he stopped crying. He tugged his wings as close as he possibly could to his back, even after it was painful.
“Hey mate, why don’t you put them away?”
Oh, yeah. He could do that.
He tried to take off his jacket, though he couldn’t make his arms move right. Philza carefully helped him pull it off, letting him tuck his wings into the slots in his back.
It hurt, yeah. And it made the patches of feathers that had been torn sting. But at least nobody could touch them now. His wings were his.
Philza folded up his jacket, and handed it back to him.
“Thanks.” He mumbled.
“It’s alright, mate. It’s fine.“
“Where’s Dream?” He was going to kill Tommy. He already said he would if Tommy messed this up. He already said he’d rip his head off. And now he’d messed it up so badly. So, so badly.
“Dream… Dream’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“He left, and told us to tell you… some things.”
“He left me?”
“I’m sorry.”
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
“Where do I go?” He murmured.
“You can stay here?” Philza’s eyes looked hopeful. Tommy found himself nodding, although the offer was strange.
꧁۞✞۞꧂
Tommy blinked awake next morning in fluffy sheets.
A nest.
A perfect nest, so perfect.
He smiled, snuggling further into the side of the nest. He hadn’t had a nest like this in ages.
Or…
Ever.
He was in a nest.
He didn’t have a nest.
Tommy shot up, wings fluffing behind him.
He was alone. Alone, in a strange nest.
He cried out for someone, calling for anyone.
Nobody came.
Tommy shuddered, sobs slipping out between pathetic chirps, curling into a ball.
“Oh- oh.”
His head shot up.
There was-
There was someone there. His caretaker, that must be right. But he was there, and not here. He should come here.
Tommy clicked.
He didn’t come.
Tommy whined, throwing his head back like he was in pain. In a way, he was.
Caretaker shuffled over.
“You want me in your nest?”
Caretaker-nest-nest-lonely
Caretaker climbs in, and Tommy collapses into his arms with a huff.
“Oh baby, so small and sweet.”
Tommy chirps, and snuggles into his wings.
“My little nestling, hm? My little nestling.”
Caretaker pulls at his wing softly, stretching it out and spreading the feathers. Tommy flinches slightly, his wing hurts. Caretaker keeps brushing through his feathers, and it hurts more.
Pain-pain-hurt He hisses.
Caretaker puts his wing down with a sigh, bringing his own wings, which were three times the size of Tommy’s, carefully over top of him, blocking out all light and sound, so there was nothing but peace.
Calm little chirps slipped out of his mouth, each one responded to by equally soft chirps from caretaker.
This was nice.