TW: SWEARING, CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, JEALOUSY, TOXICITY, NEGLECT, MILD PANIC ATTACK
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After the doctor disappeared, everything happened on its own. I processed nothing and let my muscle memory put on the mask. Like a good girl, I smiled for the boys whilst they were excited, then said I was tired and told them to go and eat something. They all hugged me one last time and then left me in that bleak hospital room with all the thoughts I couldn't control.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry or shout or leap up and down just to feel something. My body and mind became disconnected and I had no control. Occasionally, my act would fall through after a bout of silence lasted too long, or through a stare I'd left unfocused until someone snapped me out of it. They'd ask me what was wrong, and I'd smile and say that I was just tired.
Just as the doctor had said, she returned with the nurse to debrief me. She gave me a set of instructions to follow including how to change my bandage for the next day and the physical therapy exercises I needed to regain strength in my new wing. All the while, her dark eyes never left my face, I knew she was the only one here who saw straight through me. She must be a good doctor to be able to understand her patients with just one look.
After they gave me a shit tonne of healing potions, Ranboo teleported us back to Querencia. The slowly turning orange leaves greeted us on the edge of the forest by Tubbo's house. It looked too picturesque, the quaint house nestled in a garden that bloomed no matter what the season. A deep breath of the sweet air was enough to make me teary. I wanted to be carefree with them. Whilst Tommy and Tubbo dashed into the house, gushing about my new flight training, Ranboo offered to take me home. The look on his face told me he knew something was up. I just shook my head, assuring him I was fine; home wasn't going to feel like home for a long time anyway.
I couldn't sleep, no matter how close Tommy pulled me into his chest at night. No matter how warm I was in the cold, scruffy house, I couldn't feel a thing. Thoughts kept me up all night until the golden sunrise peeped through the little patchwork curtains in Tommy's bedroom. Regrets made me restless and the weeping girl in my chest could not be consoled. The moments that had given me joy only a few days ago paled in comparison to my wild imaginings.
We never spoke of how I really felt aloud, but Tommy wasn't dumb enough to fall for my actions after the second time I shrugged and said "I'm fine". Each time he laughed at himself or a mistake he had made, I could feel his glance on me, waiting for me to wake up and laugh too. There was nothing he could say or do that would snap me out of this listlessness.
My head had become a beehive of thoughts. They all usually went the same way.
My own mother, the woman who was meant to love me the most out of anyone else, neglected me and rejected me because of my wing. The wing that was now perfectly healed, waiting for me to start exercising it so that it can take me into the clouds. To my family, I am the tainted part of an otherwise seamless legacy that was founded by my great, great, great grandmother. I am the fifth generation of Craftiers, and I somehow managed to ruin everything.
Amélie and Phil are still unaware of everything that had happened. How would they react to this? I can guess what Amélie would do. She would be shocked, of course, and stood stock still just like I had when I found out. Whether she would laugh and embrace me or sink to the floor and cry was something I couldn't decide on. Father's possible reaction eluded me. I had grabbed onto his affections when I was younger, but really I was just grabbing onto smoke.
Do they miss me?
The relationship I have with Amélie is fragile, but at least I know she cares. Phil is probably just cussing out my name, waiting for me to come crawling home like a stray animal so that he can lock me away again. A real father would pray for their daughter's safe return, but I doubted that's what Phil is doing. He had changed so much since I was a child. Pre-Mother's-death-Phil would have worried... But post-mother's-death-Phil? Unlikely.
Those scraps of affection meant so much to me. Did they mean anything to him? Though I may wish he would, Phil would never mourn me like he mourned Mother.
In another life, the academy would have accepted my application. Once I was eligible to join, I sent letter after letter after letter to the academy, begging them to take me. I never received a reply. Instead of spending hours in the estate hunched over my desk alone, trying desperately to scrap together information, I could have been handed my materials on a silver platter and studied with friends.
Could I even have been given Grandmother's sword? Amélie was given the sword because she was deemed worthy. Maybe, just maybe, even though I am younger, I would have been given the sword and been the one carrying the responsibility of bringing honour to the family. If I wasn't given the sword, maybe I would have been happy for Amélie instead of bitter and jealous.
I could have been trained instead of shunned by every trainer that ever arrived in our estate.
My family could have loved me.
This evening is one of the ones where my head is dizzyingly full of bees. The thoughts were always worse after dinnertime once everything is slightly too quiet. I knew I should have helped Tommy with the cooking or the dishes, but my limbs refused to move. Unable to force myself to be productive, I sat on Tommy's beaten-up couch, staring out at the sunset through the window as it got brighter and more brilliant. I wait for when it starts to fade into the night not caring about tomorrow and almost wishing that it won't come. The glass is gently fogged from the warmth inside coming from the little fireplace crackles, its warm yellow light caressing my face. I sigh for no particular reason.
"You are only worth as much as you can give to this family, Aster. You are worth nothing."
"Aster," Tommy says. The fog that surrounds me clears a little bit as he takes a seat next to me. I want to growl at the cheery tone in his voice. Everything gets on my nerves these days, even the most inconsequential things like the creak of the floorboards or the slosh of water in the sink.
I take a breath and look away from the window and at Tommy. The oblivious grin on his face made my jaw tighten. "How's your wing?"
"It's fine," I say dismissively, hoping that he'll leave it alone. Deep down, I wish I could be excited with him, and share in whatever happiness he had found today. But everything was trying to get to me tonight, and I could hardly contain the angry bile that threatened to leap into my throat. Whenever my wing was mentioned, I felt especially irritable.
"I got a letter from Tubbo about the cave," Tommy smiles. I avert my gaze so I can roll my eyes. This must be the millionth time Tommy had brought up the cave. It was a place that he and Tubbo used to train when they had just left the orphanage. I was impartial to talking about it before, but now the passing thought of dealing with Tommy's rambles pisses me off. Tommy was relentless in his nostalgic ravings. He went on and on about how amazing the cave was and how he and Tubbo used to train so hard like an old man recounting his glory days. His words only spoke to the demons in my mind who would whisper in my ear about how I could have had someone to train with.
Tommy clears his throat when I don't respond. "He said it's in top shape and it'll be good for a beginner flyer..."
Now that made my fists clench until my knuckles were white. I've been training my entire life, how could I possibly be a beginner? They've all been treating me like I'm made of glass and I'm fucking sick of it. My head is full of angry bees, it's too loud and the room feels much smaller than before. I can't think, hear, or process anything except my rage. Tommy keeps rambling, prompting me to respond. I want nothing to do with this. I want-
"You are only worth as much as you can give to this family, Aster. You are worth nothing."
"SHUT UP!"
Before I know it, I'm on my feet glaring down at Tommy. He looks like a puppy that's been kicked in the face. Why the fuck are you sad? You can't be weak, Tommy... because then you'll get hurt like I did. My knuckles start turning white as I square my jaw trying to force away the pinpricks that threatened my eyes.
"A-Aster if you don't want to fly that's fine-"
"You don't get it!"
Why doesn't he understand? Tommy was always the only one who could understand me, but lately, he's understood nothing. I'm just so angry all the time and I hate it when he talks like everything is fine and like this is so easy for me. Why can't he see how I feel?
I curse myself as my anger becomes mushy and soft as I try to face down Tommy. Fear was written across his face in ink and I couldn't restrain my guilt. What happened to my shell? The angry blockade I used to weaponize is gone. The tough love I would have easily dished out a few months ago refused to come to the surface. Tommy's broken me, broken my ability to hide my emotions. Especially in front of him.
I quickly wipe away the tears that threaten to fall as Tommy tries to understand what I've said.
"What?" his voice is meek.
"I WAS NEVER LOVED!" The ringing in my ears is so loud. Everything in the room either feels uncomfortably hot or too close to me. Pressure builds hotly in my chest, like a powder keg about to explode.
"Nothing I did was good enough!" I want to slap myself as my voice breaks. Why am I so weak? "My own mother resented my existence, my parents wouldn't even hold their baby. They would rather trust her care into some random phantom nursemaids because she wasn't good enough for them."
I clamp my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut as everything closes in on me.
"You are only worth as much as you can give to this family, Aster. You are worth nothing."
I want to disappear. I wish I didn't have wings at all. If I was born without them, at least I could have pretended to be human and maybe lived a happy life with an adoptive family in Querencia. I could have even shown up at the orphanage... My life would have been so different; so much better.
"I was trapped in that house for my whole life," I can't stop the sobs now and I can't bear to open my eyes and look at Tommy. He's probably scared half-to-death just looking at me. Everything is screaming at me to shut up, grow up, have more dignity, and stop crying. I'm being weak, I cannot let others see that I'm weak.
"I'm only worth what I can bring to my family, and I've brought them nothing. I could have given them the world!"
The powder keg explodes and I feel like I'm being crushed. I sprint for the door, opening my eyes just enough so that I don't trip on anything. Blubbering like an absolute mess, I push myself out the door and look for my nearest exit. The orange sky glows above me, the seemingly only welcoming thing in the world. Turning to the roof, I jump as high as I can, pushing myself up the last bit of the way with two big flaps. I drag my body onto the first-storey roof, crawling up the tiles to the outer wall of the second floor.
Once I'm leaning against the wall, all I can do is cry. Cry with exhaustion, anger, sadness, resentment and grief. The grief is overwhelming; grief for a person who I never will meet and who never can exist. My wings wrap around me like a shield, feebly trying to protect me from the outside world.
My entire life, I resented Amélie because she got the mother that I wanted, but it was never Amélie's fault. Back then, I was just so angry, but now the truth is so clear to me. Accepting that Mother may have been a good person is not something I can force myself to do, because if she was then I would never have been an outcast in my own family. Mother always seemed like she hated me, and so I hated her in return. But the thought that if things were different she may not have hated me at all...
I wanted the mother that Amélie had. I wanted a mother who cared about my training and bandaged my hands when I got blisters instead of a mother who never let me even leave the house. Why did Amélie get that mum? If Mother was always capable of loving Amélie, then she was capable of loving me too, I just wasn't worth her love.
If I wasn't worth her love, then I really have brought nothing to my family. The one thing I always strived for was what I failed to do.
It's only once the wind turns cold that I hear the front door open and shut. I flinch at the sound of flapping feathers and feet landing on the roof. The cacoon I made of my wings tightens around me as I feel shame creep along my spine. Tommy's footsteps are unsteady on the roof and my heart instinctively clenches with worry. He huffs as he takes a seat on the roof in front of me. I push myself closer to the wall.
The brown feathers on my wings were so tightly knit together that I can hardly see Tommy's silhouette through them. I wrap them tighter around me shamefully, hoping that I can disappear into the wall. He doesn't deserve the shit I've been giving him recently, he should be angry at me. So why is he here? To scold me? Why does he keep coming back after everything I've done to him? I've hurt him time and time again but he never seems to leave. Can he not see that I'm a problem? Can he not see that he'd be better off without me?
Silence passes between us as we sit on the roof. Every now and again I wipe a tear that escapes down my face and hope that my feathery shield is enough to hide it from Tommy.
"I'm... I'm sorry that what I said upset you," Tommy breaks the quiet and my heart simultaneously. He thinks it's his fault, a voice says in my mind and again I'm flooded with guilt. I shouldn't have taken everything out on him, he's not my personal punching bag.
Another beat passes.
"Can I see you?" he asks, a plea in his tone. I watch the silhouette reach forward knowing full well that he's about to touch me, but I still flinch when Tommy's hand brushes my feathers. The feathers on the wing that was broken. Has anybody else ever touched that wing except him? I wonder. A flash of memory comes to mind - Tommy's fingers working deftly between my feathers in the dusty light of his room after he kindly offered to help me reach the feathers that I could not. His hand hovers there, barely touching my feathers, begging me to open up to him.
I let out a shaky breath feeling my heart ache for a new reason. Tommy is out there, just outside my walls, waiting for me. He's always waiting for me, always trying to help me, be there for me. Nobody in my family would wait for me like this. They wouldn't tolerate my actions or how I'm feeling or take any shit that I give them. My own family wouldn't give half a flying fuck about how I'm feeling, but Tommy does. A man who I've known for just shy of two months and who has shown me more love than I used to think possible.
Slowly, the walls sink as I draw them down to me. As much as I know I should, I can't take them down all the way. They sit level with my arms that were wrapped around my knees. I wipe my face and force myself to meet Tommy's gaze, peeking over the top of my wings. The look on Tommy's face almost makes me cry again and I have to look away, resting my cheek in the crook of my elbow. All that I could see swirling in his eyes was a concern. His sympathy and patience were unlike anything I could ever hope to understand. Unconditionally devoted to me...
"Even though you may hate them, I- I love your wings," Tommy pauses for a moment and I look up at him, unsure if what I'd just heard was correct. His eyes were set sincerely and he had the tiniest curl at the corners of his mouth. Nobody has ever said that to me before and it made me feel a way I had no words to describe. Whatever it was, it made me a bit warmer.
"I love them because they're the reason I met you."
I rub my face and sniffle realising how terrible I must look right now. The last thing I want is for him to see me falling apart like this. The dryness in my throat forbade me from telling time to leave, but even so, I don't think I could tell him to go. Tommy looked down on me over the top of my cacoon like how I imagined the sun looked at the moon as it quietly rises into the sky each evening. There was a story I heard as a child, where the sun and the moon were lovers who danced with one another forever but they could never touch. Tommy meant what he said, but I can't understand how he could love the things that caused me so much pain. Just like the sun and moon, we were polar opposites in so many respects.
Tommy scoots a little closer and I feel his legs touching the bottom of my feathery wall.
"You may have been able to honour your family... but would you have done it the right way?"
A frown took over my face as Tommy got to the point. The right way? At home there are a million ways, and as long as you honour your family in some way it doesn't matter how you've done so. "What do you mean?"
Tommy thinks for a moment before letting his ramble spill over. "Sure, you're meant to bring honour by joining the academy or being smart or getting married or being wealthy or whatever other shit. But would it have been who you are?"
Who I am... I become acutely aware of the two girls in my chest. One of them still sobs whilst the other stands aloofly, looking up at me. Family is meant to be a part of who you are, but my family wanted nothing to do with me. Your interests are meant to be a part of who you are, but I don't even know if I would have liked fighting and studying had I not lived the life I have.
"I don't know who I am," I realise aloud, sinking deeper into my wings again, looking anywhere but at him.
Maybe if I wasn't so broken, I could have known who I am. There are too many pieces for me to pick up, and if I were to find them, I don't know where to put them anymore. Would they even look like something coherent if they fit together at all?
"Hey," Tommy says softly, bringing my attention back to him. "I don't know either, but I know all I need to know to... to love you."
Knots tighten around my stomach and I look up at Tommy. My mind turned to anarchy in an instant as my millions of thoughts turned into trillions. Wh- What? Tommy looked as flustered as I felt, eyes wide and face flushed cherry red, but that didn't stop him from rambling and averting his eyes to his fidgeting fingers as he spoke.
"You light up the Pube every time you walk into it, you don't judge anybody based on how they look, your smile is infectious and you're witty and clever and an amazing artist even if you always insist that they're just sketches. You're funny and you love people even if they don't deserve it!" he blurts out, stopping suddenly with a startled expression. My heart is thumping so loud that I wonder if Tommy can hear it on the other side of my wings. The shock stops me from soaking in everything Tommy said.
Shaking himself, Tommy reaches past my wings and takes my hands that had been gripping onto my knees. His blue eyes sparkle like the Anahita and the last golden light from the setting sun illuminates Tommy's handsome face. "You're amazing. Maybe you didn't get the life you wanted, but would you be as happy in that life as you are when you're getting pissed off your face with Sneeg, Wilbur, Niki and the rest of us at the Pube?"
Tommy's tone was light and joking, an attempt to cut through the tension. The message behind his words spoke volumes louder than what he actually said. I do adore everyone I've met in the Pube. The countless adventures, big and small, that I've had with Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Beau were some of my most precious memories. From hide and seek to drunken pub tunes to drinking miracle hangover cures and sneaking into elite parties. I never would have done any of it without them. I love Niki, Sneeg and Wilbur too. I wouldn't know them half as well as I do now if I wasn't tossed aside. Spending hours with Niki in the spa laughing and gossiping about the most random stuff, reading about history and bickering with Wilbur, laughing at Sneeg as he told relentlessly funny stories about his adventures; none of it would have happened.
I still wish I could have been loved by Mother and Father, but their love was always conditional and I don't think that would have been different in another life.
The sunlight is nearly gone now but my vision felt clearer than before. Tommy watches me in a way nobody else in my life ever has; Honestly, and unconditionally devoted to me.
I would rather have him in my life. I would rather have drunken wild nights, wearing whatever I like and laughing from my belly than have to be perfect like Amélie.
My eyes start to well again with tears, no longer grieving what I could have been, instead recognising what I have been blessed with. Tommy is proof of my blessings, Ranboo risking his reputation to get me to a hospital proves them and Tubbo sending letters every day about teaching me to fly proves them too. I want to be loved unconditionally, and love the same way in return. I want my happiness to mean more to me than my pain.
Warmth slowly fills me from the inside out and I finally feel something other than the suffocating numbness that has taunted me for days. Some pain still remains, but it's relieved and smaller than before.
Slowly, my wings droop to either side of me, the wall crumbling to nothing. Tommy opens his arms, a hesitantly hopeful smile on his face, and I fall into them. At his touch, sparks shoot through my bones followed by the feeling I remember from our night in the hospital. Tommy is home to me, I belong here, and I will always be welcome here.
As a weight lifts off my chest, the words I never thought I'd let myself admit fall out.
"I love you."
It was so quiet, so muffled by Tommy's shirt, but somehow he heard me loud and clear. Tommy stiffens like a board, holding me even tighter. Disbelief is scrawled across his face.
"W-what?"
"I'm not saying it again."
"Wait, no- What? please, h- hang on..."
Laughter bubbles free from my chest as Tommy stutters in bewilderment. I pull back from the hug, despite my cool teasing my cheeks were red hot. Am I ever not going to get flustered around this boy? Tommy is still looking at me with his mouth half-open, still trying to grasp everything. My smile grows wistful as I look at him.
"Thank you for staying with me," I mutter feeling embarrassed by my actions. Tommy lets out a laugh and swipes a finger under my eye, gently taking away a tear that threatened to fall.
He grinned. "Anybody who wouldn't is a dumbass."