The Legacy of Dirty Birds

The Sweet and Sour of Mid-Winter Gathering

(Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of child abuse, dissociation and self-injurious behavior due to trauma.)


Calum opened his eyes, and saw he was still neatly entwined around Edwin's still-sleeping form. One of his hands curled around Edwin's back and the other tucked below his arm. Calum couldn't feel his fingers in that arm, but it was worth it. Edwin's face was red and puffy, but he was so peaceful in his sleep. Calum's heart ached, he wished they could stay that calm and content forever. He hoped something he'd done helped; the thought eased the pressure on his chest.

He pressed his forehead into Edwin's, and listened to him breathe.

"I'm awake." He whispered, snapping Calum back to attention.

"Oh," Calum pulled away from him.

"Wait—" The look on Edwin's face was agony.

Calum froze, half-draped in Edwin's blankets. 

"I know I should apologize for everything that happened last night...but I don't remember any of it. I don't remember drinking, or anything we...did. I feel awful about it." Edwin's face was a deep, beet red and he looked ready to cry again.

Calum frowned, "drink? We only had tea earlier."

"Then I don't know, I'm sorry anyway. I probably made you do it. Why in the world would you be comfortable with someone like me." Edwin's hand pressed up against his face. "You can leave if you want. I understand if you never want to see me again."

"What?"

"I probably ruined our friendship."

"What?"

"I've never kissed or done anything before, that probably made it worse."

Calum was growing more confused. "Hang on—"

"You're allowed to say it sucked; I mean I can't even remember—"

Calum touched their arm gently, "Edwin."

His gaze snapped towards Calum, eyes wide and full of horrific realization like a cornered animal. Calum watched him take in the information, the ache of concern became a familiar burn. Their hand moved from their face to forcibly pressed up against their mouth.

"We didn't 'do' anything last night," Calum blushed, choosing not to think about the implications. "I was...awake... and then you were...you were crying and...reliving memories. I think? I just—I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I guess I fell asleep."

Edwin bent over, face in his cupped hands. "I'm so stupid. I woke up with this awful headache and you were here and I couldn't remember and I made the assumption—oh gods and then I tried to apologize—"

"Do you still have a headache?" Calum sat up. "I'll make you breakfast, and ginger tea."

Edwin stared at him incredulously. "You're sure nothing happened?"

Calum bit his lip, "were you...hoping something would?"

They stared at him, eyes wide, face burning, seemingly unable to answer. The smile died in Calum's throat. Was even this tainted by horrible thoughts put into his mind by other people? Had they not left a single part of him untouched? Unbloodied? His whole body felt hot with a sudden need for...vengeance. Blood roared in his ears, twisting and crackling like fire. He was burning.

"Is it okay if I call you Edwin?" Calum sat back down on the edge on Edwin's bed, choking down the fire in his blood.

The feathers along his spine rose and fluffed up. "I...I don't know. I don't know how I possibly could have told you."