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Tubbo had let the subject drop for the first few days. Tommy had adamantly refused to let anyone near his wings and Tubbo didn’t want to freak him out anymore than he already was. He pretended that he didn’t notice and didn’t bring them up in conversations.
Even so, Tubbo couldn’t ignore the burnt feathers, how there were patches where it was obvious that feathers had been plucked, the way that the colors of his wings were dulling. Tubbo didn’t have wings but he could only imagine how uncomfortable it was.
Not to mention how many feathers would flutter to the floor or scatter around the surface that Tommy was sitting on. It was mildly concerning. But Tommy kept his wings as tightly pressed to his back as possible, rarely stretching them out, flinching away when anyone would walk behind him.
It made his heart ache every time he remembered how open Tommy used to be with his wings. How he’d sometimes knock things over when he turned around too fast in too small of a room. How he’d wrap his wings around whoever he was standing by or whoever he was hugging, completing the embrace fully.
Tubbo missed when they were younger.
During the couple of days that Tubbo had forced himself to stay back and let Tommy collect himself, he had told Ranboo about it late at night when he was 120% sure that Tommy was asleep in the guest bedroom that he’d been staying at.
The two of them would sit on the couch next to each other with the fireplace roaring and cups of hot chocolate for both of them.
“He’s hurting.” Tubbo would say, staring at his hot chocolate with a focused expression, “I want to help him so badly… but I know he needs space… he needs time to adjust and collect himself but…”
Ranboo would nod knowingly, “you can’t help if he doesn’t want you to.”
“I know… it’s just.” At this point, Tubbo would have disregarded his hot chocolate, resting it on the coffee table in front of them in exchange for pulling his knees up to his chest, his ears twitching, “Ranboo I wish we could go back… back before everything when everything was fine and we didn’t have to worry about… about everything.”
Ranboo’s expression was always hard to read, he would wrap an arm around Tubbo and pull him closer, his tail wrapping around Tubbo’s waist.
“Hell… maybe it would be easier to just run away from it all, the first chance that I’d get I’d grab both you and Tommy and Michael and just leave, start a new life somewhere else far away from all of this.”
“Running away from your problems isn’t going to do anything… sometimes… sometimes you just have to face them head-on,” Ranboo would say in an attempt to be reassuring. But he ends up just sounding like a hypocrite. “Give Tommy a little longer to collect himself and try talking to him.”
“I’m trying.”
That’s how those conversations went, it was the same thing. Same topic Tubbo was worrying about. His wings weren’t even brought up but they stayed in the back of his mind. Tubbo wanted Tommy to be comfortable here, hoping it would help him heal.
Afterwards they would go to bed, Ranboo going up to check on Michael first and Tubbo hesitating as he passed the closed door to the guest room that Tommy was staying in.
Tubbo said that he would give Tommy time, let him have space to gather up the broken pieces the best he could. And he did. Though when it came to Tommy’s wings, he lasted half a week before he brought it up again.
It was the only thing that Tubbo knew he could help.
Tommy was sitting outside on the porch, shivering in his thin jacket as he watched the snow settle around him. His wings were curled around him protectively, feathers dislodging every time a particularly violent shiver ran down his spine.
“Tommy…” Tubbo said slowly, wringing his hands in front of himself anxiously. He shivered.
Tommy tilted his head to look at Tubbo, shifting so that his wings weren’t in the way, “what’s up big man?”
Tubbo briefly fumbled, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to figure out something to say. Tommy stared at him questioningly, an eyebrow raised.
“Your wings, Tommy…” Tubbo winced at the way that Tommy visibly tensed up a half-stifled chirp escaping his lips and Tubbo knew that he had done a terrible job starting that conversation.
“What about them?” Tommy’s expression was carefully guarded, his tone low with warning. He folded his wings tighter against his back.
“Sorry I didn’t mean it badly,” Tubbo quickly said, “Tommy they hurt me just looking at it, it’s gotta hurt.”
“Kinda hard to preen when I’m still sore and can’t reach.”
“Let me help you,” Tubbo asked, “I used to preen your wings all the time when we were younger.”
“Times have changed now,” Tommy muttered practically under his breath, he stared at Tubbo with his jaw clenched. Tubbo could see the gears in his head turning.
“Please…”
“Tubbo I don’t know if I—“ Tommy looked down at the porch, picking at some paint that was starting to peel.
“I bet you’ll feel more comfortable afterwards.”
Tommy sighed heavily and nodded. The movement was so small that Tubbo wasn’t sure that he had even seen it right.
“Let’s get it over with.”
Tubbo smiled reassuringly, his heart fluttering with nervousness and excitement.
Tommy followed him inside, hanging his coat on an empty hook. Tubbo glanced in the kitchen, grabbing two of the chairs from the dining table. He figured that Ranboo was probably either in the attic with Michael or somewhere around the house writing in his memory book since Tubbo had seen him less than half an hour ago.
Tommy wrung his hands nervously, chittering quietly.
“I’ll go slow, tell you what I’m doing before I do it. I’ll be gentle I promise,” Tubbo said, dragging the two chairs into the living room.
“Yeah yeah.”
Tubbo didn’t miss the way that his voice shook. Tommy pulled the chair around and sat down, leaning his chin on the backrest. Tubbo pulled his own chair behind Tommy, noticing the tension in Tommy’s shoulders and the way he flinched at every noise.
“Are you ready?”
Tommy huffed, shakily extending one wing out, gripping the edges of the chair like a lifeline.
Tubbo warned him, waiting for his acknowledgment before he gently pressed his hand to the base of Tommy’s right wing. Tubbo could feel his rapid heartbeat through his skin.
He started small, running his fingers through Tommy’s feathers hoping it would help Tommy relax a bit, getting him used to it. Patting down his feathers and flicking out dirt that had been gathering since whenever the last time Tommy had been preened was.
Tommy’s breaths were shaky but he nodded along when Tubbo asked if he could go on. So Tubbo started with the feathers that were closest to his back, he’d figure out how to deal with his burnt primaries when he got there. He readjusted feathers, tugging them back into place as gentle as he could, using both hands to make it easier. Tommy flinched whenever Tubbo moved his hands and worry was starting to creep up Tubbo’s spine every time a flinch got harsher.
Suddenly Tommy lurched forward, “Dre—“ he cut himself off, “Tubbo stop,” he begged, drawing his wings closer to himself.
“What’s wrong?” Tubbo jumped, “sorry.”
Tommy hurried his face in his hands, chirping fearfully. His feathers fluffed up in fear, one fluttered to the ground. Tubbo with eyes wide and not knowing what to do, sat there with his hands in front of himself almost defensively.
“Tommy, what’s wrong?” He repeated, a bit more worriedly.
“Sorry… sorry I can’t… sorry…” Tommy stammered, “don’t.”
“I’m not going to touch you unless you say it’s okay.”
Tommy curled in on himself, shakily trying to steady his breathing. He was shivering and panting, curled up tighter than Tubbo had ever seen him.
After a few minutes of tense silence, Tommy finally pried himself away from the back of his chair, his nails digging into his arm. He faced Tubbo, his eyes holding so much guilt and Tubbo didn’t even understand what for. He was the one that pressured Tommy into this situation.
“What’s going on big man…” Tubbo asked, furrowing his eyebrows worriedly. His tone was similar to when someone would be dealing with a wounded animal.
“I can’t…” He whispered, “Tubbo I…”
“If you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll drop it and we can just go on like this didn’t happen,” TUbbo offered, noticing the desperation that crept into his tone.
Tommy clenched his hands, stuttering for a few seconds as he tried to figure out how to word what he was going to say.
“Your hands are so much like his…” Tommy struggled through the sentence, his voice strained. Unshed tears were beginning to form in the corners of Tommy’s eyes. He wasn’t looking at Tubbo anymore, choosing to stare at his feet, curling himself in his wings.
Tubbo didn’t need further explanation of who “he” was. Tubbo already knew.
“Oh.” There was a lump forming in his throat. Tubbo looked down at his hands, his nails that were always bit down to stubs and the rough calluses on his fingers from years of working.
“Tommy… I’m sorry,” he didn’t know what else to say.
“No,” Tommy hung his head in his hands, tugging at his hair, “it’s my fault it's… It’s so stupid. I can’t… I can’t even sit through this without having memories of it… I’m so stupid. My wings hurt so bad… and I can’t… can’t do anything about it because my stupid brain thinks everyone is a threat and…” a choked sob pulled itself from his throat. Tubbo bit down hard on his lower lip, blinking back his own tears.
“It’s not stupid…” he found himself saying, “Tommy you’ve been through so much.”
“I just want to be able to do things normally again… You’re my best friend and every time you touch me it just makes me think of him… because of the stupid way his hands are… Dream is a monster, Tubbo, and you’re not and…” Tommy’s breath hitched.
“Tommy, look at me,” Tubbo said softly. Tommy did as he asked and Tubbo gently held out his hands to Tommy, “I’m here, you see me.”
Tommy stared at Tubbo’s hands, reaching out to grip them gently, “I have to look at you to know that it’s really you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But I wish that I could do more to help you,” Tubbo frowned, letting Tommy squeeze his hands. Tubbo sighed, “It’s going to be okay Tommy, we’re still a team, we can still get past this together.”
Tommy tugged Tubbo closer, shakily wrapping his arms around Tubbo’s shoulders. He buried his face in Tubbo’s hair, his fingers wrapping around the fabric of Tubbo’s shirt.
“I can’t do this Tubbo…”
“You can… I know you can,” Tubbo didn’t hug him back, he didn’t want to scare him more, but he let Tommy cling to him, “you’re the big man Tommyinnit, I know that you’ll be able to heal.”
Tommy was crying quietly, trying his hardest to muffle the shaky sobs. Very timidly, Tommy shifted unfolding his wings and loosely draping them around Tubbo. The movement made Tubbo freeze.
“I can’t even die, Dream will just bring me back and I’ll be forced to go through everything all over again…” Tommy shook his head, “I’ve got no escape…”
Tubbo didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He hummed softly to show that he had heard what Tommy had said. The only sound was Tommy’s occasional sniffles and the crackling of the fire. Tubbo tried to think of some way to help.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about my wings,” Tommy mumbled, pulling himself away from Tubbo, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He folded his wings back to the way they had mostly stayed the past week.
“I could stay in your line of sight or… talking do you think that would help?” Tubbo was rambling a bit, he wrung his hands nervously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Maybe we should just call it a day…” Tommy laughed awkwardly, “I’ve been trouble enough… we could pick this up another time…”
“Tommy…”
“I don’t want to bother you, big man… I know how much a hassle preening is… especially when I can’t even manage five minutes,” Tommy stared at the ground, shame heating up his cheeks.
“If you don’t want to, we don't have to. But it’s never a bother to me to help you, I wouldn’t have offered now and I wouldn’t have offered all those times when we were younger,” Tubbo reassured him. Tommy only shrugged.
Footsteps on the creaky wood floors caused both boys to jump. Remembering that they were not the only ones in the house at the moment. Ranboo appeared in the doorway with Michael in his arms. The piglin child had his arms thrown around Ranboo’s neck as the enderman hybrid glanced back and forth between Tubbo and Tommy.
“Am I interrupting something?” Ranboo’s tail swished back and forth. He shifted awkwardly, while Michael, completely unaware of anything that might’ve been going on, squealed happily when he saw Tubbo trying to wiggle out of Ranboo’s arms.
“No, you’re not interrupting anything,” Tubbo said with a sigh. Tommy crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking everywhere in the room but Ranboo and Tubbo.
“What’s going on?” Ranboo set Michael down on the ground. Michael stumbled over, resting his chin on Tubbo’s knee, his one eye wide as he looked up at his father.
“What’s it to you?” Tommy spat defensively.
Ranboo barely reacted to the harsh tone besides his tail twitching.
Tubbo suddenly had an idea, it was a far-fetched one that he was sure that no one in the room would agree with. But it was something.
“Tommy… if my hands are too similar to…” Tubbo hesitated, “and if your wings hurt… what if I guided Ranboo through it, his hands are bigger and he has long nails.”
Tommy’s eyes widened though what he was actually thinking was impossible to tell. Ranboo looked at Tubbo confusion written all over his features.
“Ranboo? Are you being serious?” Tommy spat.
“I still don’t know what’s going on…” Ranboo scratched at the back of his neck.
“Ranboo, can you help me with preening Tommy’s wings?”
“What?” Ranboo’s eyes widened, “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this.”
Michael tugged on the edge of Tubbo’s shirt. Tubbo lifted the child into his lap.
“I’ll tell you what to do and help you.”
“I never said that this was okay,” Tommy insisted, his cheeks flushing even darker, he stared with wide eyes at Tubbo, “there’s no way that I want Ranboo anywhere near my wings.”
“Sorry,” Tubbo shrunk down, “I want to help you feel more comfortable.”
Tommy stared at Ranboo, his breathing shaky and Tubbo could see that he was thinking it over. Ranboo’s tail swished back and forth nervously as he avoided making eye contact.
Finally, the tension fell from Tommy’s shoulders, “whatever… I just want the pain to stop.”
“Ranboo?” Tubbo asked.
“I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to be much help… but I can try… if it’s okay.”
Michael snuffled looking up at Tubbo, tilting his head to the side.
“It’s fine.”
Tommy swallowed thickly, following Ranboo with his eyes as he grabbed a chair from the table and dragged it over next to Tubbo’s. Michael made grabby hands at Ranboo but Tubbo held him there.
“You gotta sit in my lap, for now, Boo needs his hands,” Tubbo said, “Or you could go sit with your uncle Tommy.” Michael huffed and shuffled down to the floor, tugging on Tommy’s shirt.
Tommy turned back around in the chair, his head tilted to the side so he could still somewhat see what was behind him. He lifted Michael into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. The baby piglin rested his head against Tommy’s chest which made Tubbo’s heart swell.
Tubbo explained how Ranboo was supposed to interlock the feather barbs and make sure that Tommy’s feathers were laying flat and even. As Ranboo’s fingers moved softly and a bit timidly through Tommy’s feathers, Tommy’s wings occasionally would twitch. A few times his wing jerked away from the touch before Tommy apologized and forced himself to relax again.
There were feathers and dirt all over the ground and Tommy was just beginning to relax. He was still looking back, his eyes darting around quickly, examining both boys behind him. After a particularly bent feather was readjusted and pushed back into place Tommy let out a quiet chirp.
The noise seemed to amuse Michael, who giggled softly, balling his tiny hands in Tommy’s shirt.
Ranboo’s hands stilled, giving Tommy a few seconds before Tubbo nudged him and nodded, continuing to tell him what to do.
Though, when he got to the burnt part of his wings, Ranboo stopped, and at this point, Tubbo still didn’t know what to do. Tommy swallowed thickly, a shiver rolling down his spine.
“Leave them,” Tommy said, a bit unsure of himself, “or uh… don’t… don’t pluck them… I’ll be molting soon… if you can fix the placement of some… um…”
“Okay,” Ranboo agreed. Tubbo nodded as well though he wasn’t sure if Tommy was really paying attention to him.
Some of them fell out when Ranboo tried to move them, and Tommy barely flinched but didn’t say anything. After finishing on the right wing. Tommy slumped forward a little bit (about as much as he was able to with Michael in his lap) his breathing a bit raggedy.
“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked nervously. Tommy folded his right wing experimentally, no longer wincing when he did so.
“I’m fine… please keep going…”
“Okay.”
Ranboo’s tail curled back and forth absently as Ranboo focused on doing as Tubbo instructed, his nails lightly scraping against Tommy’s skin. Michael was making small grunts and squeals at Tommy, which Tommy then repeated the same sound back tiredly causing Michael to giggle.
Tommy was chittering freely now, practically purring. He pressed his forehead against the back of the chair, his shoulders drooping tiredly. Michael squeaked.
“Does that feel better?” Tubbo asked. Ranboo was just finishing, with Tommy’s other wing. There was something about the way that his clawed hands ran through Tommy’s feathers and somehow managed to decently arrange his feathers that was sort of impressive.
“Yeah…” Neither of them expected much more than that from Tommy. But Ranboo heard the small ‘thank you’ he muttered a few seconds later. His ears twitching.
“I think I need to go make dinner now,” Ranboo said, Michael perked up at that, squirming out of Tommy’s lap. Tommy slumped further into the back of the chair now that he didn’t have to worry about the child.
“Okay, thank you Ranboo for helping,” Tubbo smiled softly. Ranboo brushed feathers off of his suit. Passing in front of Tommy as he made his way to the kitchen. Tommy lifted his head briefly, giving Ranboo a small nod of thanks and an even smaller smile. Michael followed Ranboo to try and help with making dinner as the small piglin usually did.
“How’re you doing Big man?” Tubbo asked, scooting his chair a bit closer.
“Tired…” Tommy muttered.
“You can sleep for a while until dinner’s ready. If you wanna go to your room or something. I don’t think that you wanna sleep in a dining table chair.”
Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, pushing himself up out of the chair. His wings drooped, the tips of them brushing against the floor but Tubbo was unsure if he could still feel it (when they were younger Tommy had described it like feeling static against your arm hairs).
“Thank you,” Tommy said, rubbing his eyes which were still red-rimmed from crying earlier. Tubbo just nodded.
“Of course. Anytime. Ranboo knows that you appreciate it as well,” Tubbo smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
“I think I’m gonna go sleep.”
“Okay, I’ll come to get you when dinner is ready.”
Tommy nodded and stalked off down the hall to the guest bedroom (at this point it could just be called Tommy’s bedroom). Tubbo watched the hallway until he heard the bedroom door click shut.
Tubbo stared down at his hands once again. Guilt tugging at the pit of his stomach. He had to quickly shake those thoughts from his head, forcing himself to focus on cleaning the living room.