Characters: Angel Duo
TW: Suicide
Soft sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, forming a bright halo on top of messy, golden curls. A boy no more than 7 years old was exploring among the forest, an adventurer set out to discover an unknown destination.
Bare feet kicked up dirt and leaves, child-like laughter echoing as he raced to catch the bunny he had been chasing after. After a while he became bored and skidded to halt letting the bunny run off. He began to leisurely stroll, the twigs that broke under his feet the only noise that could be heard.
A bush of pink azaleas caught his eye, and he quickly stirred his path towards them, scuffed hands already itching to start to picking them. Humming quietly to himself, the boy placed the biggest one behind his ear for safe keeping and started to tie the stems of the others together in the beginnings of a crown.
As he continued with his work, a butterfly landed on the petal of the flower he was tying, the dark orange of its wings a stark contrast to the lighter petals. With a flutter of its wings, it once again took flight.
The boy gasped in delight, abandoning his project to chase after the butterfly hoping to catch it. Not that he wouldn't set it free afterwards; he always did with any animals he ended up catching.
Nothing deserved to be completely isolated from those around them, forced under the imprisonment of one person who loomed over them, keeping them either as prisoner or pet.
But he wouldn't learn the exact meaning of those words until much later; as of now he only thought of what he might name it (Clementine) and if he could somehow make it understand he was its friend.
And friends NEVER hurt each other.
Soon he was led out of the forest into the open, his steps never faltering in his attempts to catch the butterfly. The boy was usually vigilante when it came to his surroundings, something he had learned to do as soon as he opened his eyes and could walk.
But, his eyes were now only zeroed in on the butterfly, the steep drop of the incline invisible to him. It was only when he felt himself slip, did his heartbeat stuttered in realization, body already propelling forward, a surprised scream being torn from his throat.
The sound of the wind attacked his ear drums as the world spun around him, the butterfly mockingly fluttering its wings keeping it in place as the boy's body became nothing but deadweight.
A quick prayer and tears that slipped through eyes squeezed tight was all that the boy could muster as he braced for impact...
"TOMMY!"
A whoosh of air, the fluttering of feathers, and strong arms that grabbed Tommy protectively only moments before he could hit the ground. He could feel himself being lowered to the ground, but he kept his eyes closed shut, fingers clenching the fabric of the clothes he was clinging to so tightly they were turning white.
A heart that was beating just as fast, if not faster, was the only indication that his savior was affected by the situation.
"Tommy, Toms, open your eyes for me. You're safe now."
Tommy whimpered, shaking his head. If he opened his eyes he might find out this wasn't real and he was actually dead. A soft coo and fingers threading through his hair eventually made him look up.
His father's warm blue eyes were looking down at him with what he could only assume was affection mixed with worry. His puffed up feathers and uneven breathing the only indicators of the overwhelming terror he felt at almost losing a son.
Sniffling, Tommy buried his face in his father's chest, mumbling apologies. "I'm sorry, I was following the butterfly and I wanted to catch it really badly! But I wasn't looking where I was going, and you always tell me to be careful of my surroundings, but I just wanted to catch the butterfly so bad. Dad, Phil, I'm sorry," he sobbed, words bordering on incoherent as the reality of the situation began to set in.
Phil chirped softly, a truly avian sound that calmed Tommy down slightly. He didn't know exactly what Phil's weird noises meant, only that they made him feel calmer and ease his nerves.
Calloused fingertips dug into his hair, gently threading through golden curls as Phil cooed, making the boy feel safe and wanted.
Here was his father to save him. To never leave him afraid and alone, scared that he was hated and unwanted. To never have to doubt that he was loved.
"Shh, it's okay, love, it's okay. No need to be afraid anymore. I'll always be here to catch you."
The lava was warm, bright, and welcoming, a huge contrast to the ice that ran through Tommy's veins and encased his heart.
The heat that radiated from the bubbling liquid made him lean forward, wanting it to melt that ice and warm his heart. Peel through his skin and sear his bones.
The reality of the situation was that the way to escape is down. Either that or he runs to the man that keeps captive like an animal in a trap, or a family who wanted nothing to do with him.
The choice was simple really.
It was calling him, telling him it would be okay, it would love him. Wrap itself around him and keep him safe. And oh, was that the only thing he wanted. To be safe and loved in someone else's embrace.
How he longed for contact that wasn't beatings, contact that left warm and safe, not cold and bleeding.
The sound of fluttering pulled him from his trance, and he looked up in excitement at the noise only to spot the orange butterfly that almost led him to his doom so many years ago.
Dull, blue eyes just stared, the fire that once burned in them now long distinguished. This was the sign he had been waiting for, wasn't it? The butterfly had come to finish the job, lead him away to place he used to believe in but no longer thought existed.
If he was anything, it was a loyal follower, and had no choice but to follow this omen of death.
One step forward.
The lava was threatening to burn at his skin.
Two steps forward.
The heat made his eyes water.
Three steps forward.
Pebbles came loose as his foot hit the edge.
Tilting forward.
He wonders if his father would save him if he knew what was happening. Probably not. He had long since lost the title of 'son'.
"Hey Dad. Will you catch me again?"
Alone and isolated, a son took one last breath, following a butterfly only he could see, and still believing he would be saved by the one he once called father.
Somewhere, safe in the warmth of his home, a father startled awake with a cry caught in his throat and tears in his eyes, arms stretched wide trying to catch the little boy he promised to never let fall.
It's okay, Phil. We can't all be good parents that at least do the bare minimum so your children don't feel unwanted and unloved. Canon Phil actually sucks at being a father, please stop giving him children to take care of.
Hope you enjoyed! 💕 Comments fuel me if you did :D
