Chapter Text
Tommy always longed for flying. He wished to spread his wings and to glide in the sky, similar to Phil. Everyday boy would stare, his head pulled painfully up, as the older man flew and disappeared in blank white clouds. He used to pull Wilbur's hand and point finger at the sky, begging his somewhat brother to follow elytrian. Every time phantom would pull him in a cold embrace and shake his head.
“He flies too fast”, he would say, again and again, day after day. “He's already gone. We can wait for Phil to return, if you want, of course”
Tommy would always give him a wide smile and cling onto his neck, embracing the soft, but cold touch. As time went by, eventually he started to notice the pattern. Avian child was oblivious at best of times, but he was not stupid.
He noticed all those sad smiles that Wilbur gave him, he remembered all the times Phil pulled him closer as they flew above their land and refused to let go, no matter how much Tommy asked to. He saw all the signs and understood non of them. He had wings, so why couldn't he fly? Was something wrong with him? Or was it something else?
He tried to clap his wings like Phil did all the time. He'd tried to spread them and glide above, but nothing happened. Nothing at all. He tried, one time, two time, three times – he tried so many times, he couldn't count, and every time he would fail. He remembers melancholic look on Phil's face and his heavy pat on his shoulder.
“Tommy”, he spoke that day in strict, but not unkind manner. “ I don't think you can fly, mate. Looks like your wings are...”, he bit his lip uncomfortably, obviously forcing himself to continue. “Looks like they are not strong enough to push you up”
There was nothing, but silence after. Phil didn't know what to say and Tommy refused to listen. Surely that was wrong. Tommy had wings, of course he could fly! Old man shook his head softly and patted his hand once more. He kept doing that until that little, malice truth reached Tommy and boy burst into tears. Alytrian hugged him that day and didn't let go, just like he never let him go up in the sky. His embrace was nice, it was strong and warm, but it was not enough. After all, Tommy still could feel the heaviness of his wings.
***
As years go by, he learns how to glide. By no means it's as good as flying, but slow fall is convenient enough for Tommy to let go of his obsession. It's not much, but it something.
He convinces himself he doesn't need it anymore. He keeps saying he doesn't wish to fly above their land, like he wished once before. Words slip from his lip, they ooze with false ignorance and confidence. His wings still present themselves as a heavy burden, one he despises and adores at the same time. Tommy doesn't let himself think about them for too long, always in motion, always running after everyone.
He ignores how sometimes he still imitates Phil, clapping his wings in preparation. He avoids his eyes from Tubbo, once he tries to imitate his wings as well.
However, he doesn't ignore how the most hated word in his life keeps coming back to him. “Useless”, such a horrific, painful word. It's slipped into his life as a gleeful joke with no bigger meaning. Wilbur laughs at him, as he falls down from the tree, failing to do a slow fall. His spine is aching, but it's not too bad and Wilbur is there, he hugs and snugs him and giggles at him with unnatural warmness. There is no malice, no desire to hurt. It's just a slip of the tongue, a mindless joke.
Yet it grows bigger, it becomes a consistent part of his days and Tommy hates it. He hates how easy it is for them to call him “useless” at times when it's so obvious he's only above average. Even Tubbo says it sometimes, with no acknowledge of his own words.
Tommy doesn't understand why, he simply doesn't.
As sun burns brighter and nights grow cold, he wonders and wonders and he never seems to find the answer he seeks. He's not useless, is he? He can't fly. He can't sleep, unless he high in the sky. He can't teleport. He can't sting. He can't disappear. He can't summon lightnings. He can't speak with animals. He can't do a lot of things.
But he can't go in the rain. He can breathe above water. He can walk under the sun. He can go deep inside the mines. He can… do the slow fall.
Maybe, he just needs to try again, to search harder, like people in some of Tubbo's books! Yes, that's right! He needs to go to an adventure, to train himself through hardships and countless battles! After that, no one will call him useless. More than that, everyone will be so proud of him! What a perfect plan!
As he's packing up in the dark of the night, moon shines brightly. He can hear Wilbur's snoring in the next room. His brother sleeps peacefully, that's good. Tommy sneaks closer to his bed and shoves a messy letter right by his side.
“Goodbye, Wilby”, he whispers and sneaks outside. He doesn't really want to leave, but he has to prove himself and show them how awesome he is! Even Phil will see how much of a Big Man he is! Once he'll learn how to do cool stuff, he'll come back. They won't even miss him, that's how fast he will return!
He runs quietly, not engaging with mobs. Shadows of the trees absorb all the light and help Tommy stay hidden. Avian child is not afraid, after all, scary things are part of adventures, Tubbo's book said so!
Okay, maybe he's a little scared… or really, really scared, but he's a big man, he can manage!
He runs further and further away, noticed by no one, as inhabitants of their land lay in bed in a deep, idle slumber.