Falling • OriginSMP TommyInnit

2 - Kids Cried Out

Fast forward a few hours, Tommy lay on his new bed. He wasnt supposed to lay like this since it crushed his back wings, but he didnt care. They got in the way no matter what, just like him.

Phil had quickly made him a room, and it was nicely decorated and put together. Tommy knew Phil was just trying to make him think he was cared for, but he knew he wasnt.

Light knocking on his door dragged him from the comfort of his thoughts, and Phil walked in. He had some bread in his hands, his graceful wings tucked neatly behind him. Atleast he had a reason to stay.

"Tommy, dont lay like that, you'll hurt yourself," Phil offered the boy some bread. Tommy huffed and sat up, accepting the gift. He had to at least pretend like he was okay, because if they found out- Oh. Wow, he was starving.

He wolfed down the bread quickly, surprised at his own hunger.

"One more, please?" He asked, and Phil gave it to him and sat next to the boy. Tommy decided to eat this piece slower, just so he could have more time to think about any wisdom Phil dumps onto him.

"Tommy, can I see the side of your head?" His adopted father asked. Tommy swallowed his bite and did as he was told, turning his head so that Phil could look at the empty space covered in blond hair. Just as the others had done, he prodded and felt the area where his headwing should be. Tommy melted into the touch, his eyes going half-lidded.

His wings were weak spots- Pet them in the right way, and he'd fall asleep, or just overall go soft. He assumed this was the same for others, just with their different classes. The only benefit of his wings that he saw, was that if he was having a hard time falling asleep, he could rub his wings on something soft and he would be out in seconds. A deep purring came from Tommy, something normal relating to his wings.

Phil didnt stop, though, he kept trying to understand how it was like this. He did notice a big scar where his wing was ripped from, but didnt think much of it. I mean, if it was shot off by a skeleton, scars were normal in that situation.

Tommy had finished his bread and fallen asleep on Phil during this, purring softly. Phil couldn't help but aww at the sight, gently laying Tommy down and pulling the blankets over him. It was midnight now, and everyone had went to sleep, lastly Phil. (Of course, other than Wilbur)

...

That night Tommy dreamed that he was choking on something. He coughed and hacked, but he couldnt get it out of his throat. He bit down, but that only hurt himself somehow. His mind began to shut off from lack of oxygen, and his eyes flew open as he woke up. Whatever it was wasnt gone, and he continued to cough and sputter.

Finally, he yanked it out of his mouth, resulting in a sharp pain in his back. Wait, what?

Tommy coughed some sort of fluff out of his mouth, breathing in loudly. He looked at what he had been choking on, and to his surprise, it was his backwing. The flesh on the top of it had been bitten roughly, bleeding slowly. Feathers were scattered over his bed and chest, some still poking from the corners of his mouth. He huffed, wiping the feathers off of him, and peered at the wound on his wing. His blood was a bright red, brighter than a humans would be.

He lifted his eyes to the window, the sun poking out over the horizon. He saw Niki talking to Wilbur, momentarily admiring the fins fanning from her face, aswell as the gills along her throat. Her aquatic tail idly waved in the water, stirring bubbles. Wilbur was sitting in the grass beside the river, talking about something Tommy couldnt hear.

He stood up and stretched, yawning, his wings fanning out in straight and jagged lines. He relaxed, not even bothering to preen his wings and fix the loose feathers.

Tommy opened the door and stepped into the narrow hallway, hearing the hisses and whispers of a Nether Portal in the opposite direction. Man, Phil worked fast. He wondered if Jack would walk through the portal anytime soon, maybe with some sort of fire surrounding him, or something cool. Well, not cool, because the nether is quite literally very hot.

Tommy went into the main room, past a sleeping Phil, and crept out the door. He closed it gently, as to not wake Phil up. He wasnt entirely sure if they would actually try to contain him- Hopefully not. He needed something.

He shot a glance towards Wilbur and Niki, slinking off into the forest. He ran as soon as he was out of earshot, as if his life depended on it. Trees nearly smacked him in the face and nearly tripped him multiple times, each time the boy's wings fluttering.

Speaking of his wings, they had aimed themselves forwards, as a way to help him gain speed. It was how he walked faster, his wings gave him a boost.

Tommy came skidding around a corner, just barely slipping, and ran into the familiar cave. Once he was deep enough, he saw torchlight and blood. Pools of blood and scattered droplets of the scarlet substance covered the floor and the walls, and he carelessly walked through it.

He went into the corner, kneeling down and searching for his wings. Surely they were here? He reached into a hole in the cave, filled to the top with blood, and bit back a scream when he touched something. Hesitantly, he pulled whatever it was out and gave it a light shake. The blood slipped off of it, and Tommy recognized his headwing.

He set it into his hand, picking off dried blood and dirt. He also kept shaking it, concluding it was clean enough once it was a light pink. He saw a lump out of the corner of his eye aswell, reaching towards it and realizing it was his anklewing aswell. Had no one realized? No, he remembered one of them had seen, but no one was concerned for it. He frowned as he picked it up, cleaning it just as he had his headwing.

Finally, he had the two detached wings, and went to leave the cave to look for some kind of sewing supplies, or anything to tie his wings back onto himself. He had to seem responsible, because being kept away from the cave wouldnt do him good. He needed to punish himself soon, for being so stupid, as always. But not now, he had to bring back his wings.

He had turned the corner, bumping into something and falling at the edge of his own blood.

"The fuck?" He gripped his wings, bracing for an arrow, or something, to come out of the darkness. An ender particle flickered, but he heard none of the ender barks or saw the purple eyes.

Then, a black-and-white suited enderman loomed over him, his crown reflecting the torchlight. His red and green eyes betraying worry, cast towards the blood, then to the wings in Tommy's fists.

"Tommy?"