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Chapter Text

The smell of the earth beneath him was the first thing that hit his senses, along with the cold that invaded his body and numbed his skin even through his clothes. Trying to move his body his muscles cried out in panic almost as if they already started accepting the stillness and cold that embraced them through most of the night. Eventually the realization of the closeness of his own demise pulled him back into his own hars reality.

Groaning to himself when his splitting headache made itself known, the man eventually managed to get on all fours before pushing himself into a sitting position and heaving a relieved sigh when the cold finally stopped freezing his body and he could take a better look at his surroundings. 

Around him the dense forest had almost completely cut away the weak rays of the spring sun from reaching the greenery around them. Only the meadow he was sitting on, was safe from the suffocating darkness, welcoming the dawn that slowly chased away the clouds of night from above his head, lighting up the small drops of dew on the tip of grass like he was sitting in a field of stars. A beautiful view worthy of compliments, but not for the man who could not appreciate it.

And while he wished to sit around, nursing his head and controlling his nausea, the beauty of the morning was quickly replaced by the shocking realization as he swiftly jumped to his feet, feeling the wetness on his clothes where he touched the ground and cursing in a foreign language when the cold air hit him.

If he was less focused on his own loss, he might have noticed the sweet scent of spring flowers, the forest pigeons swinging happily on the branch where they have landed together and maybe he would have been able to dip his pen into a never ending source of inspiration. However, in that same moment, Norton Campbell, the self-proclaimed poet was more interested about his seemingly long journey that landed him in the middle of a forest and the world spinning around him like a wild carousel ride. The rare sight went completely unnoticed.

In his memories he hazily remembered a pub where a simple breath was enough to intoxicate and the fog of alcohol almost immediately seeped into the fabric of the visitor’s clothes. There he sat in the corner with several of the dimwits who happened to call him their friend, even though he knew it was all just formality. Nothing more nothing less. Fellow poets who would like to keep him close for the sake of riding his tailwind once he finally gets his first major breakthrough… or so he believed.

Because while Norton’s so-called friends undoubtedly kept him around for a reason, this reason happened to be more sinister than the action of using others for their own gains. 

Being born into a miner family, he lacked everything the others had starting with a rich background and money to spend. However, this disadvantage never stopped him from trying to fit with the others, mimicking their style of clothing alas in a much poorer sense, tattered from wear with no spares that could match the velvety feel of the fabric he had spent around a year saving up money for. Anyone from his cast would be looking at with judgment for spending his money on something that he had to mend almost every month, while his new circle was giving him nods of approval for his dedication, even giving him plenty of praises for the brave and responsible move. It was no question which side attracted him more.

And Norton, being eager to play the game of the rich, missed the warning signs that he had taken his seat in the company of vultures. In reality, for them, he was nothing more than an entertaining Nobody dressing up as a Somebody, who repeatedly tried to fit in, while also self-sabotaging his own plans.

However, he refused to stop and think about such things and the headache that stung his brain with every step made it sure that he won’t have other thoughts than the idea of getting out of the forest. 

In the distance, a deer raised its head, its pointed ears quickly turning towards him as it tried its best to identify the unfamiliar groaning creature clad in green. Eventually the animal seemed to determine that the man, unlike the rest of his peers, meant no danger and lazily galloped away leaving the man alone in the forest.

His feet take him onward with the hope that the direction he had chosen would eventually lead him out of the forest. Fearing that he might lose his way without compass, Norton did not even switch route when he had met obstacles, and instead dutifully made plans to get through them, sliding into crevices graven by the small stream and climbing up the other side, being careful that his clothes wouldn’t touch the damp rocks where patches of moss raised its flowers.

He had done this several times, grabbing into trees to pull himself forward, climbing up and down and going around a small lake, eventually following the small waterfall that rippled happily as it hit the small rocks and created a stairs like formation. 

Stopping for a moment, he had looked around but his heart remained closed to his surroundings. For a poet, he was not as observant as one should have been since he never noticed the forest growing quieter around him, the deeper he had ventured. At first it was just the four legged animals who decided to avoid him. The undergrowth no longer shivered and quivered when he waded his way through the thick bushes. But eventually the birds who served as cheerful companions have decided to abandon him on his journey. The doves no longer cooed lovingly above his head and the short whistles of goldfinches grew more and more distant with each step he took.

The deeper he ventured, the more he lost track of the passage of time, his only reminder being the hunger kept clawing at his insides, kneading his muscles just to remind him that he had not taken any kind of food to himself since yesterday and the hangover wouldn’t cease until he ate something. But was it only a few hours ago that he had started walking or an entire day already? He couldn’t really tell. Looking up the sky, he could only see the never-ending canopy of leaves that completely blocked the view above him and after some time, the forest stopped getting darker around him. 

If he looked around, he could have seen the pair of bright blue eyes that shimmered in the darkness, following him around like a patient hunter ever since he had stepped into the forest. 

If he looked around, he could have prevented sliding down a small hill, making the state of his clothes even worse than before. Standing up, he let a string of alien curses freely into the wild, forcing the shadow to take a hesitant step back.

Fallen twigs cracked beneath the newcomer's feet, striking fear into the man's heart. The ground gently shook beneath his feet as the heavy steps came closer and closer. The air whistled as something blue spread behind the trees, giving off a shimmering light even in the complete darkness. Norton took a step back, then another when he realized that the creature had its eyes set on him. 

His next step caused him to tumble backwards making the contents of his messenger bag scatter around the ground and making the giant leap forward, its wrinkled yellow legs landing right in front of him. Shielding his head, Norton wanted to scream but no voice came to his lips, fear had him in its claws, preventing him from further movements. 

The bird’s beak was almost as big as his head. Even just a tiny peck would be able to land a fatal hit and just as Norton foresaw it, the golden beaks indeed opened slightly as the animal leant over his body. He instinctively curled up on the ground, keeping his hat on his head as if that would serve as protection against a ferocious monster. 

Yet… No matter how much he waited, the pain never came. In the darkness the only bored buzzing of bees served as his company, but aside from the fact that the bird itself was so silent, Norton started to doubt his own eyes. Maybe it was nothing more than a hallucination his mind made up after his body was forced to go on for a day without any food. A nightmare travelers see before their flame is finally snuffled by a breeze. 

Just when he opened his eyes a notebook accompanied by several papers fell on his head, before it was followed by his bag.

“What is your problem?!” he sat up, bravery returning when he realized the bird was just playing around, the meaty part of his beak pulling upward into a disturbing expression that looked like it was trying to mimic a smile. 

“I thought you did not speak my language,” the bird spoke, his cheerful voice rattling from the human syllables that he had forced himself to pronounce. 

“Why would I live here if I did not know the language?”

“Because nothing stops you from doing so,” the bird huffed, the ground shaking lightly as he stepped closer before sitting on the ground. “People are strange like that sometimes.”

“Says the speaking bird.”

“I am not a bird!”

“Then a monster, whatever. As if that would make things better,” the poet shrugged as he reorganized his papers, fitting together the wandering lines that he had scribbled up for his next work before they were slid back into his bag. Next to him the bird repeated his word in astonishment.

“A monster… Do I look like a monster to you? Do these gorgeous azure feathers strike fear into your soul? Or this white mantle? Is it the tuft on the top of my head?” the bird kept asking, but his words were the creation of pure mockery.  "You call me a monster because I am out of the ordinary, which is very rude of you."

He sat down in front of Norton, before he reached forward his beak getting closer and closer to Norton’s head… The man closed his eyes, readying himself to be killed on the spot, only to have his ratty old hat lifted up from his head. Just as he opened his eyes to make a note about the bird’s annoying behavior, the green fabric fell on his face then a sound that resembled chuckling resonated the air around him.

“What do you want?” Norton asked him, irritation slowly sneaking into his voice as he put the hat back on his head.

“I think the more appropriate question would be, what do you want.”

Such a silly question, Norton thought to himself. There were so many things he wanted, goals he wanted to reach if he started to list them they would be sitting here for all eternity. 

“I want to finally get out of this goddamned forest,” he answered curtly. “There, you have your answer.”

A wing was lifted as the giant bird held his wing to his heart then commented with false exclamation. “Excuse me, but someone is living in this goddamned forest! I am terribly sorry if the furnishings did not appeal to you, I’ll immediately consult the beavers and woodpeckers on the matter!”

“Is everyone as insufferable as you?” Norton stood up, looking into the sparkling blue eyes of the bird. Like a sea of mischievous stars the bird’s eyes reflected that he was clearly enjoying himself in the situation.

“Probably not.” he laughed. “Buuut I am afraid if you want to get out of the forest, you don’t have any other options. It’s either me, or trying to converse with the rest of the wildlife here, but let me tell you, none of them are fond of your kind. Not even a hedgehog would stop for you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because whenever someone on two legs comes here someone dies and it’s rarely the one who stepped into the forest,” the giant bird explained, the tuft on its head slicking against his feathers as he recalled past events he was forced to witness.

“I am not like them.”

“Eh? And how are you going to explain this to those who fear your sheer form? For us, you are the monster and in the forest I am the one helping said monster. It’s matter of perspective, really.”

Looking at the bird, Norton could see that he was clearly stalling the discussion almost as if it was waiting for him to ask the most important question they kept dancing around up until now.

“What do you want for your help?”

Cocking his head to the side, the blue bird smiley again, probably praising Norton for falling for the trap he had set up with his sweet words, building a wall around the pit to prevent him from escaping until the only road led downward.

“Your hand in marriage for your life, your future for your present,” the bird said in a low voice. 

“You are crazy…” Norton muttered, his face tense. The color slowly drained away from his face when he realized what he had walked into. 

There was no other way out of the situation he had gotten himself into and the monster in front of him used it to his advantage, luring him closer until he could not escape anymore. Thought whipped frantically through Norton’s head as he tried to find a way out, anything that could be used to bargain for his life. However, soon his shoulders drooped when he realized that he had nothing on him that would be valuable, but what the bird demanded.

“So…?” the air felt heavy around him as he was expected to give an answer so soon. His future for his present… The words kept repeating in his mind. His future so he could live more to see it…

“Fine,” a sigh left his lips, and a red flush spread to his cheeks. There were no feelings, only the burning sensation of humiliation that he had to suffer through by selling his life to none other than the most annoying creature he had ever met. “But you better lead me out of the forest!”

He expected the monster to laugh knowingly, maybe remain the same silent killer that he was up until know, but only the blue feathers kept moving erratically on the bird’s white chests, his heart beating way faster than before as clear disbelief reflected in those sparkling eyes almost as if he couldn’t believe Norton’s words.

“Are you? Really? Do you agree to my terms?!” he raised his gaze to the man clad in green. “Are you serious about it?”

“Not willingly, but you gave me no other option so, yes. Lead me out of here first and I’ll handle the rest.”

The bird just sat there for minutes, seemingly still processing what he was told, before jumping to his feet and starting to walk around in circles, his feet doing a weird dance as he went.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!” he hopped around, excitedly making rounds around Norton. “I almost gave up completely, but now Mike Morton will finally return to the stage he belongs to!”

Spreading his wings he jumped up as the ground shook beneath Norton’s feet almost making the man fall again before a beak slid against his back, helping him to keep his balance. 

“Come! Follow me!” he hopped excitedly as he nudged Norton forward, his eyes twinkling like the stars on a summer night.

Little did he know that the tales he was told were nothing more than the peevish mutterings of the fairy folks. Humans were not to be trusted even if they presented themselves as the victims of circumstances. 

Chapter Text

As they walked through the dense forest, the ground shook under the bird’s heavy steps and the small ferns serving as the carpet of the forest were forced to give way to him, leaning away from the bird’s feathery body then quickly jumping back to their original place once he left. Like the king of the forest, Norton thought to himself, rolling his eyes as he followed him.

The giant monster that apparently bore the name “Mike Morton” made his footprints even deeper, by hopping between lumps of ground as they came in their way, humming a familiar tune that was a little bit of everything Norton had ever heard in his life. It had the rhythm of folk songs, before it turned into more classical melodies, weaving together into the cacophony of ideas the bird had come up with on the spot. 

If Norton was more observant he would have noticed that the bird was far from the uncivilized monster he had originally thought, and in fact Mike was more familiar with popular human culture than a mere miner who had spent his days with work and managing his income in order to stay alive. 

But instead, he kept glancing at the vibrant blue feathers that lit up in a swirling pattern the darker it got in the forest as its glow led him forward on the path.

“You are not fooling around, are you?” he asked with mild annoyance when the bird stopped in front of a wall of stone, hopping on a rock that was sticking out from the wall and continuing his trip to the top in a similar manner. 

“Me? Never! I am serious! As serious as one can be!” the bird chirped, stopping mid-way so his feather still provided enough light for Norton to follow him. 

“Says the glowing bird,” Norton growled to himself.

“Oh, if my light is in the way I can always just go farther away from you. You only need to ask,” Mike answered the whisper that nobody should have heard. “But wouldn’t you fall that way?”

“Instead of playing the role of a helpful magical creature, you should just admit that you want to kill me and get over it fast.”

“Eh? Why do you want me to hurt you so badly?” the bird asked in confusion, coking his head to the side. “Sorry to disappoint you, but if that was my intention, I would have done it while we were at a place where I could easily reach you. Pluck your head so there is no emotional attachment and all.”

“If you say so…”

Norton was not convinced.

Not when the bird reached towards him with one of its wings to light up the rocks with its azure light and not when he finally reached the top of the wall, his clothes dirty from the mud that stuck to him as he climbed.

“You say that you do not want to kill me, yet I have a feeling you are doing a proper job at leading me deeper in the woods.”

“I do not!”

“Then why is it that when I walked alone, I seldom needed to climb, let alone walk in knee deep water and now I have done both in less than an hour?” 

He was pretty sure the look Mike had given him was a look of pity.

“Consider this. You have walked all day, therefore went around the forest just fine. I am not leading you back on the same path as it might take another day, of course. That would be silly, people might start organizing your funeral if you did not turn up for two days. ”

“Thanks for the reminder. That’s very nice of you to say… ”

“And very human of them to do something like that.” the bird nodded, finishing the sentence Norton considered to be whole. “Which is why we have to get you back to civilization as soon as possible! Plus, there is that promise you have to keep.”

Norton hoped that even in the dim light, the bird couldn’t see the grimace of disgust that sat on his face or else he would have ruined his only chance to get home. Fortunately, it seemed that the monster was far too lost with praising itself and mentioning how clever he was for finding the way out to notice the little shifts in the man’s expression and never questioned the lack of curious questions either.

Suddenly the bird stopped, and as Norton walked forward he eventually ended up being surrounded by the darkness of the forest. Tracing his steps back to the source of light, he looked at the bird with a frown.

“Now what?”

“I… As I was talking, I realized that I’ve never asked for your name… I called you rude, yet I am the rude one!” the bird complained, raising his wing to his beak and sweeping the bushes around them in the process.

“It’s Norton.”

“Oh… Then your name seems to fit you. I thought you will be Thomas or maybe Giles. But the name ‘Norton’ feels strict, orderly or maybe it’s the way you said it…” he hummed to himself, before trying out the name in his own performance, “No, it is the way it is.”

The more Mike talked, the more Norton felt like his brain splitting in his skull and in reality he was already dying. The headache that started from his hangover was now torturing him over the lack of food he had put into his body and the cheerful, almost shrill voice of the bird did not help to lessen the buzzing.

“Could you shut up for once?” he raised his voice, making his own headache worse. Mike pulled his neck between his shoulders like a feathery turtle and puffed up his blue feathers on instinct almost as if he was to protect himself.

“I just wanted to…”

“I don’t care what you wanted to. Just lead me out of here as we have agreed I still have things to do at home and I can’t waste my time in this forest.”

With a sad chirp his body slowly deflated and the two started walking again. 

He wanted to talk. It’s been so long and he had almost forgotten what it feels like to have someone who would listen to him and the subtle reactions the simplest of words can earn from the listener instead of the silence that was his companion in the forest. 

After that, they walked without speaking to the other, only their steps making noise in the evening forest. Norton did not initiate a conversation and Mike did not want to risk another scolding even if years of pent up words threatened to leave him after festering for so long. Glancing at Norton’s profile, he wished to know more about the man, his life, his past, the story behind his burned skin that made his face so special… Maybe ask him about his goals and the reason for his curious visit. Yet each time he opened his yellow beak he closed it with a soft click and hung his head. 

If only he was human things would have been easier. 

If only…

But then he wouldn’t be in this situation either, begging the first passerby to marry him while he was prohibited from telling his reasons for a ridiculous request of this caliber. It wouldn’t be a curse if things were easy and everything was given to him on a silver platter.

Sighing, he looked at the man again, shaking his head in disbelief when he realized what he had gotten himself into. 

As they walked in silence the lights of a town started twinkling between the trees and slowly the buildings also took their shape with a pitch-black mountain and a river forming the perfect backdrop for the scenery and the lone tower of the church that rose in the middle of the town. Seeing that his goal was getting closer, Norton hastened his steps, almost falling over when he tried to wade through the undergrowth. Hoping that the bird can’t keep up with him, he hastened his steps, yet every time he looked back, Mike followed his pace quite well, taking wider steps to catch up to him. Realizing that running would be futile, as the bird would catch him before he had a chance to reach town, Norton turned around, forcing a small, but terribly fake smile to his lips.

“Thank you for your help, but I think I’ll manage from now on.”

The bird was visibly disappointed.

“But, but but… you promised a wedding! You have promised to help me!”

“I have. But not immediately. After all the priest is probably asleep and the gates of the church are closed at this time of the hours and I think a regal creature would want a wedding to be big, don’t you,”

“Actually a smaller is fine. As long as we give our vows…” Mike argued, but the reality of his situation dawned on him rather quickly. Norton was already making his way towards the town, leaving him behind the row of three that prevented the bird from getting through without breaking them in half. 

Hesitantly, he waddled from side to side in his nature-made cage the flightless bird let out a frustrated groan as the only person who came his way left him behind. Letting his pleasant mask slip, he cursed, loud and clear.

“Goddamnit! If he thinks he can trick me and get rid of me so easily, he needs to learn his lesson,” he muttered slowly, a frown sitting on his feathery face as his feathers became ruffled, before he turned his neck and started tearing out his azure feathers. Using his own magic for himself was a prohibited act and every time a feather was separated from his skin a numbing pain coursed through his muscles, making his feet lose strength. Tears rushed to the corners of his eyes as he worked, arranging the feathers in a glowing circle around his cursed body, carefully pushing the further with the tip of his beak so his tail feathers would not brush them aside.

Even if he wanted to stop just to rest for a bit, he had to be fast or else Norton might slip into the endless maze of the town and he would lose his only chance!

Plucking on his skin faster, by the time he had finished, his surroundings looked like he had just gotten into a fight with a wolf and came out on the losing side and yet he through the burning anger, instead of grieving his lost beauty he was proud of his own bravery. 

Hanging his head, he raised his wings as a last step and with a powerful jump he stirred up his own torn feathers, enveloping himself in a blue veil turning smaller and smaller as he finally glided through the trees that prevented him from leaving before.

***

The town was already asleep when Norton had made his way past its edge, dogs barking at him from behind the fences to signal his arrival until there were no more gardens and their space was taken by bigger and bigger buildings until the scent of the forest and lilac trees was slowly replaced by the suffocating smell of humans. He stopped next to a park where a small house was wedged between a restaurant and a several floor taller building with its own inner garden that were decorated with the potted plants of the people living there. He had been there once, but he couldn’t afford the luxury of having sunshine in his own kitchen and had to settle for a smaller and much more miserable option right next to it.

However, there was one thing that made him laugh about his situation, the fact that despite not living in the capital, he could still have a home that only the upper middle class was able to afford there. In that perspective, his situation was not as bad. At least there were no rats and his biggest enemy was the scent of burned oil that kept seeping through the windows of the restaurant’s kitchen in the back.

And yet, despite not living in a terrible situation and his living quarters being cleaner than the place he called home as a miner, he still couldn’t help to let he couldn’t help but heave a sigh as he opened the front door and walked up the stairs, holding onto the richly ornamented black handrail that led him straight to his own measly home.

If he was more observant, he could have seen the shadow that kept following him. Gliding in the night from rooftop to rooftop, perching on the lamp right in front of his home before it winged its flight again to follow his journey in the secluded stairway. The small blue form flitted from window to window as he opened the green door that led him to his flat and disappeared behind it with a click. 

Except once again, Norton Campbell was blind to the small noises made in the night and the sole goal he wanted to reach was his bathroom and his bed.

Preferably in this order.

He did not see the bird sitting in his window when he threw his jacket and shirt away, nor when he started filling the bathtub, heating up the water in it with the small stove that was running under the copper furniture.

An outdated method, but then again, he had no money for more at the moment. It was a miracle in itself, that he could afford the luxury of having heated water and in-door plumbing. 

Finally having warm water around him to embrace his frozen skin felt like a hard earned reward after wandering around the forest for almost a day and collecting dirt from every corner of the wilderness. Besides, he not only got out alive, but he also cheated his fate fitting for a hero of tales!

The bird truly thought he would just waltz into the church and ask his wing in marriage, did he? Maybe for a split second he felt sorry for the naive creature for being so trusting, but the steam had quickly chased away the inkling of regret that decided to creep up on him and he soon convinced himself that he did the right thing.

Resting his head against the warm edge of the bathtub the events of the day slowly melted together as his muscles finally warmed up after the cold spring weather. He did not have this luxury as a miner so it was clearly a sight that he finally started to get his life together, right?

However, just as these thoughts appeared to him, he heard a clicking noise coming from the small window above him. Something was hitting it with force, before he witnessed the narrow window slowly open slightly until the hinges caught its fall. 

The cold remnants of winter broke into his home, immediately stealing the warmth he had built up in the small bathroom, making him shiver once it reached his bare shoulders and urging him to slip his shoulder beneath the water.  Suddenly a black shadow shot out from its hiding spot, making rounds above his head before landing on the other side of the bathtub. 

Norton looked at him, raising a brow as he studied the azure bird that kept huffing at him. 

“So…” the bird opened its beak.

“Get out.”

“After I almost broke my beak to get in?! Maybe in your dreams!” 

“Get out,” Norton repeated the sentence, his cheeks flaring up when he realized that he was sharing a room with a sentient being while he was trying to bathe. 

“Or else?”

Out of spite, the bird was splashed by a wave of water, losing its balance as it fell off the edge of the copper bathtub. However, Norton did not even have time to lean forward, the bird hopped on its feet plunging himself into the water.

For a second Norton thought it might be a last desperate attempt to make him change his mind, the bird using its fragility to somehow manipulate him to follow his wishes, but he soon had to realize that Mike had a completely different plan in mind and the bird started fluttering his wings, splashing water everywhere around him and aiming at Norton’s face, before the man quickly put his hands under the small bird and tossed him out of the water.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked as the small bird stared back at him, anger sparkling from his golden eyes. 

“Should you be asking things like this after leaving me behind in the forest? Should you? I literally asked one simple thing in order to save your life and you couldn’t even keep a promise like that.”

“Do you even realize what you just asked from a random stranger? What did you expect of me? To rush into a church the moment I get out of the forest? Did I even ask anyone to be there?!” he raised his voice.

“I don’t care about how you got into the forest, you made a promise and you can’t get off the hook that easily!”

"Or else? It's not like you could do anything about that.”

A smirk spread over Norton’s lips once he felt the taste of victory. Something he hadn’t had a chance to experience in a long time. Alas, this feeling died not soon after it had a chance to emerge from the depth of his heart as the bird asked in a playful voice.

“If I happen to turn into my true form again, what will they say? Based on what you have called me, they would most likely think that I am a monster. And you, my dear friend, just brought one to town. Furthermore, I could break all of your furniture by accident and even alarm the landlord. I can easily get you kicked out of your home and make you live on the street…"

“You are a vile bird, I hope you know that.” He hissed between his tense jaws.

“Grand coming from the person who called me a monster. I am just trying to live up to the title!” he chirped cheerfully, hopping back to the edge of the bathtub with a few flaps of his wings.

“You are one.”

“And technically you are a liar. Both are heavily judged by ordinary humans. Except that I am at least cute so I can get away with more hideous things.”

Norton couldn’t see his expressions as clearly as when Mike was twice as big as him, but it was obvious that the bird’s eyes shone with mischief and while he managed to go several sentences without mentioning marriage, the plan was definitely not off the table yet. 

“I am still not going to marry you. Not in a hundred years.” He stated just for the sake of sending a message, but the bird just casually spread its wings as if it was shrugging.

“It’s a good thing I decided to stay then! You do seem to be the sort of person who needs someone who pecks some common sense into him!” he exclaimed, his chirping sounds almost resembling some sort of twisted laughter. 

In reality however, Mike Morton couldn’t be angrier and if he could, he would most likely attack the naked man in front of him. After everything he had gone through, the insanely long waiting, the pain, his lost feathers he was still just as far from his original goal as he was when they first met.

And all of this because the indifferent prick in front of him couldn’t keep himself to his promises! Fortunately, it takes two to tango, so if Norton chooses to be like this, nothing can truly stop Mike from turning his life into living hell, does it?

It’s all about getting even.

Besides, who in their right mind would trick a magical bird?

Chapter Text

When Norton opened his eyes, he hoped that the events of his previous day were nothing but the form of some extended hallucination and the soreness of his muscles were not torturing him because he had spent hours wandering in a forest. They were all just remnants of a very long night and the several rounds of drinks he had put into his system.

However, the moment he turned around in his bed, on his night desk he was greeted by the demonic creature that decided on torturing him with his insufferable presence until exhaustion finally knocked him out. Only looking at it without hearing its continuous chirping he might have even said that the creature was beautiful, as its azure feathers had small patterns in them, created by the different colors of the barbs, glinting with a soft shimmer with each rise and fall of the bird’s back as he slept. 

Letting out a loud groan as his back cried out in pain when he sat up, Norton decided to crawl his way towards his small kitchen and finally start the day after being away from life for a whole day. Possibly, he could also enjoy the small ounce of silence before the bird in his room decided to start screeching at him about marriage and promises he did not intend to keep. He knew it well that the whole procedure would take not more than an hour away from his life, so he really shouldn’t have acted so stubbornly, but there was one thing that neither Mike nor anyone around him truly understood. He could not afford to look foolish. He worked too hard to let a foolish action like taking a bird to church ruin his reputation or if he did, he will be surely stamped as a fool and an idiot. 

However, Mike would not understand this. All he could see was an unkept promise and his own ego, not the harmful aftereffects it would bring on Norton’s head. The jokes he would be the target of! The anecdotes and laughter that would follow right after someone feels inspired enough to put the free interpretation of his story on paper…

Heaving a sigh, he snuffed the fire on his stove and waited until the steam would finally stop looking for a way out of the kettle before pouring its content over the pitch-black dried leaves and letting them sit. Milk was rare in his household, almost non-existent, while sugar was something that simply tortured his taste buds after getting used to its absence in his diet. The water soon took over the color of the leaves as he prepared the rest of his measly breakfast by turning the slice of bread on its other side on the pan, reminding himself that things now were much better even if the outcome of his decision was not the most optimal.

Soon he heard the rustling of wings in his home, fast paced flaps broke the silence of the kitchen as Mike landed in front of him, his long tail feathers hanging from the edge of the table as he let out a silent yawn. If Norton were to say, he looked more tired than he did last night, but that was only to be expected from someone who couldn’t shut up for hours. 

However, this state did not seem to last long as the crest on the top of his head immediately perked up at the sight of Norton’s white cup. Before Norton could react Mike’s beak was already in his drink, ruining his morning tea that was already portioned out the day he had brought it. 

“Did I ever tell you it’s yours?” he growled under his breath, but the bird refused to look up almost as if Norton stopped existing the moment he tasted tea and let his beak be repeatedly submerged in the warm drink. The only way to earn his attention was to lift the cup, before Norton repeated the sentence again. “Did I ever tell you it’s yours?”

“Are you telling me it wasn’t?” Mike jumped back a little, his small feet tapping on the dark wood. “You are a terrible host. I hope you know that. Now be so kind and put it back, I still haven’t finished it.”

“Nobody is keeping you here so you are free to fly away and bother someone else if you don’t like the treatment,” Norton frowned, before pushing his chair back to pour the tea in the sink much to the dismay of Mike.

“I would have drank it! Hey! Why did you throw it out?!”

The bird was immediately on his shoulder, staring after the remnants of the drink before honoring the culprit with pulling his hair.

“Get off my shoulder. You did not think that I’ll drink from the same cup as a dirty bird, did you?”

“You could have just treated me like a normal human being instead of immediately discarding it! I thought you had no money! Can you really afford to pour your tea into the sewers for the rats living down there? DO you value them more than me?!” the bird ruffled his feathers, this time kicking Norton’s face. “Norton, answer me!”

The man felt anger rise up in his stomach as he tried to sweep the annoying bird off his shoulder, groaning when Mike in return escaped to the top of his head and kept pulling on his dark hair while listing curses to him. He had expected many forms of punishments life could throw at him, but an insufferable bird that he would rather drown into a spoonful of water was not something he had expected as one. 

Eventually, he gave up on trying to shoo the bird away, and just sat back, now without tea to wake him up, and read the pile of papers that he had left on his table almost two nights ago.

“Do you have something to eat? I am hungry…” The bird suddenly asked, gently pulling on his hair this time. As an answer Norton just walked to the small window in his kitchen, opening it for Mike and gesturing at the town by spreading both arms.

“The whole outside waits for you. Now stop bothering me.”

However, the bird did not move and Norton could feel him actually sit on the top of his head.

“I was thinking about toast with marmalade…” he mentioned, glancing at the stove where Norton seemingly forgot the rest of his breakfast after extinguishing the stove.

“Birds can’t even eat bread let alone toast. You would just die from bloating… Which would actually solve my problem…”

“For your information, I am no ordinary bird and I can even drink alcohol if I want to, so eating bread should be the least of your concerns,” the bluebird chuckled proudly, but showed no signs of leaving his perch and to Norton’s biggest sorrow, a sudden gust of wind refused to break into his home and sweeping the bird out of the kitchen through his wide open window.

But the pesky creature remained, eventually taking his share from the dried bread Norton tried to salvage by turning it into the world’s saddest toast.

* * *

As the heavy door closed behind them, Norton felt a shiver run through him when a gust of wind suddenly attacked him from the side, almost stealing his hat while the bird on his shoulder forcefully dug his talons into the fabric of his blue coat as the brilliant green was still drying at home. 

It seemed that the bird had permanently glued himself to his shoulders and as they walked through the street the passerby’s sent curious glances towards the strange duo.

Above their head, the clouds have slowly melted into a gray blanket and the fresh leaves on the chestnut trees that were forming a line on the right side of the pavement were shivering each time the winds tore into them. Each time it happened, Norton could feel the bird step a bit closer to his neck, until the azure feathers started tickling his skin.

How did this bird survive in the wild if a weak spring zephyr almost sent him flying? It was another mystery Norton couldn’t really understand and it would be a lie to say that he cared about it.

“You should bring your umbrella,” the bird suggested, beak clattering as he fluffed himself up to keep the warmth in, only to have wind rush through the soft barbs.

“There is no need for that.” Norton answered as he walked through the small park next to his flat, passing by benches that were usually occupied around this time of the day by avid readers and the elderly. Only kids were playing with marbles near the statue where the ground were more even, their shrill laughter annoying Norton as he walked past them while the bird curiously stretched his neck, head following the colorful marble that rolled against the pile, scattering them as it took their place. The small kid clapped happily, confirming his suspicion that the boy just won the game they were playing… and a healthy sum of marbles.

However, the scenery quickly changed as Norton hastened his steps to get out of the park, away from people who were enjoying themselves without realizing that the world is a cruel place.

Once the kids grew smaller and smaller until they were back on the streets, with Norton's home only showing its roof behind the small park, mike sat back on Norton's shoulder he suddenly asked.

"What do you do in your free time? Do you come out here?"

"I work and no. The park is too noisy."

"I think it's fun!"

"That was obvious, after all you are noisy too. Our idea of fun does not match…" Norton told him with a grimace as he took another turn, but Mike was too curious for his own good. For a while he sat without a word, waiting for Norton to cross the street before pecking his earlobe, just hard enough to get his attention. The man wildly swiped his shoulder but the bird just fluttered up before sitting down on his left shoulder.

“And what is your idea of fun? Now I am genuinely curious because I just can’t picture you as someone who goes out to have fun. Can you even smile or your face is stuck in a permanent frown?”

“That’s none of your business,” Norton muttered under his breath, quietly so nobody would take notice of him talking to himself and slowly spiraling down into insanity.

On some days the publisher’s office was barely thirty minutes away, just a short walk. While right now the journey felt almost eternal, earning a sigh of relief from him when he finally saw the yellow house with its decorated windows and corners. A place of continuous rejections and scolding that he had to endure whenever he stepped through the wooden door and his face was hit by the scent of chemicals, ink and paper.

Mike kept chirping next to him, asking silly questions and being nosy about their destination, but Norton chose to ignore him, opening the door in silence. It was not his business and Norton was far too stressed to waste his precious time explaining everything about his life. Besides, once they step into the office all questions will be answered.

The building shared some similarities with his home and a similar inner garden greeted the two, separating the living quarters from the noisy streets. Unlike his home, however, the inner garden was a small ecosystem on its own, small offices lining all sides of the rectangular shaped court, each door having its peculiar sign hanging above it. It was a place of business, lacking colorful decorations safe for the upper levels where the residents of the house kept their plants on the floor’s walkway.

His footsteps slowing down, Norton stopped in front of a wide door with the flat form of a book made of metal hanging above it. Glancing at his charred profile Mike could see how his frown deepened the longer he kept staring at the office.

“So, are we going in, or…?” he suggested, nodding his bill towards the door.

“Wish I had any other choice”, Norton muttered his first honest sentence that day. "You should stay outside. It's not like you don't know where I live and there is only one exit."

"That is out of the question. When I told you that I’ll accompany you I meant that I’ll go with you everywhere. This is still part of everywhere so you better take me inside or I’ll bite you.”

Norton did not answer, he just stood in front of the door, flinching when the white curtains moved on the inside. His shoulders relaxed when he couldn’t see a human figure appearing in the window, but this still would not mean that he was out of the steaming pot. He already had to face a troublesome work environment, but the day where he was required to present his works to none other than the director was probably worse than having to climb the steep walls of a tin mine while carving ore from the stone.

A violent cough rocked his body as he thought back on those days. A reflex that still haunted him when he stressed himself.

Breathing deeply, he finally managed to get his lungs under control before he opened his bag, pulling it up a little.

“Get inside.”

“So you can toss your bag on the street and get rid of me?” Mike ruffled his feathers.

“Do I look like the type of man who would throw away his belongings?”

Heavy silence followed, before Mike glided down from his shoulder.

“But if you throw the bag away, I am coming for you. I’ll tear out your eyebrows as you sleep and break all of your glasses and mugs!”

“I don’t have that many…” Norton tried to correct him, but a blue head emerged from his bag, the feather on his head fitting against the rest of his body. He swore the bird was squinting.

“All the more reason why I’ll destroy them, if you mishandle me.”

He could just shake the bag, Norton thought to himself as he quickly folded the cover back to hide the bird. He could shake the bag and nobody would ever find out about his little mistake. The bird could be thrown under a bush or something and he could go on with his life… Except, he knew it well that he would not be able to do that. The sentient being would probably haunt him just like people of his past did.

The door opened with a cheerful ring as the bell above his head dangled wildly and for a moment, the entire office froze, looking at the newcomer with curious eyes before life returned to its original flow and the talk continued. It was just Norton Campbell, nothing worth noting and Norton returned the cold gesture, by not even nodding towards their way. It’s not like the letterers, binders and printers could ever help him get what he wants or push his works through the keen eyed director.

“Oi, Campbell, do you still work here?” a young man stepped in front of him, his black half-cape with golden embroidery falling on his shoulder. In his hands he held a folder brimming with papers, probably the

“Hey, Valden, shouldn’t you be drawing in your burrow right now?” Norton returned the gesture and did his best to attack back with a bite, but the man just raised his brows with a confused smile playing on his lips.

“Oh no, I am apparently on my way to the lithographer to give him my works. You know, since someone from the two of us actually has his works printed on paper,” he finished with a bite, before walking past not even sparing a glance at Norton. The wall made of thorns was growing steadily between them ever since the first time Norton stepped into the office and upon spending almost an hour waiting for the audience, he ended up calling the painting hanging on the wall ugly and while Edgar was not present on that fateful day, words traveled fast, immediately souring their interactions. The wall emerged when he heard that the man was the son of an earl, belonging to the ranks of people he hated with a burning passion.

As he was about to walk forward a yellow beak stuck off from the crevice of his bag. 

“I told you to stay low,” Norton hissed. 

“Sure. Sure. Who was this? And why were you so unpleasant with him?”

“It’s none of your business, Now get back and don’t talk or else I’ll start considering throwing the bag into a mineshaft,” using his hand Norton pushed he bird’s beak back into the hiding before he continued his journey towards the director’s office. His warning seemed to work against Mike, as the bird remained silent, only looking up at him in confusion when he opened the bag and took out a pile of papers, before firmly clicking the magnetic clasp to its place.

Heaving a sigh, he took another step forward. His legs were heavy, refusing to listen to his calls at first and it took some trying to get them closer to the door that seemed to open in front of him almost automatically, revealing a bright and pristine office behind, a slightly different atmosphere than the noisy printing office had.

This was not the first time Norton had stood in the same place, his shoes framed by the richly decorated carpet that served as a barrier that kept him from walking around, taking glances at the bookshelves that reached from wall to wall on almost all sides of the room, except the one in front of him. 

No, the last wall was left barren, safe for the certificates and awards that hung proudly between the two windows. However, a visitor’s eye couldn’t really idle too much on them, as their attention was immediately drawn towards the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, her strict glare demanding swift and to the point conversations. 

Keigan Nicholas Keogh lived up to the sounding of her name if one was to follow Mike’s example. She was strict and ruled the publishing house with an iron fist leaving little room for mistakes and repeatedly talking about the status they had to hold with the content they had produced, often judging the works of her own author’s just like how Anubis weighed the goodness in souls with the feather of Maat, scales tipping to their favor when the work was truly admirable.

“Mr. Campbell, I hope your health has been serving you well these days. The weather has been rather cold lately,” she started but despite the sweetness of her words, her voice remained calm and cold. This was not an idle conversation, it was a way to measure him, Norton just knew it.

“Everything is fine, thank you for asking,” he nodded, words of lies falling through his lips almost too easily. “I have brought this week’s manuscripts.”

The woman’s expression turned into a smile as she chuckled, leaning back in her seat.

“Considering that this is why you come here every week, I’d have been surprised if you did not.” She accepted the folded papers and immediately started skimming through them with the intention of a quick feedback. Around the fourth page, she started frowning, before she handed back a paper to its owner. “Mr. Campbell, I appreciate the enthusiasm but even if you hide your poems between pages, my answer will be no. We can’t publish them as they are.”

“I have a whole book worth of…” he started arguing, but he was immediately cut off.

“Quality over quantity. We have gone through this once already. Several times in fact. Bring me something worth publishing and I will do it without question. But poems are not about rhymes and I want you to understand that. Otherwise my answer will forever remain the same.”

Norton felt rage bubbling in the pits of his stomach as he looked at the woman in front of him. So many hurtful words came to his tongue about her weight, the correlation between that and her attitude but he eventually swallowed them back. He was cleverer than to let rage felt due to rejection end his career on the spot.

"Fine…" his shoulders drooped as he saw Keigan put a stamp on every page but the poem. “I understand."

"Good." Raising up from her seat, she handed Norton his papers. "You can take the manuscripts to the corrector. We have gotten some new books for review so once you have given back your current copies feel free to choose from them."

At the news of new work Norton's eyes lit up almost immediately.

"Is there anything by DeRoss?"

"If nobody else got it yet, then yes there is." She nodded, a bit surprised by Norton's change in mood. After all, he just got another rejection.

Little did she know that the bumbling poet under her wing was not leaving in glee because of his love for reading the works of this peculiar author, but for a more different reason.

After all, there were several reasons why one “might” like someone, it did not necessarily have to do anything with liking the person in general. Sometimes there were certain aspects of them that made the discussions with them all the more valuable. 

“Why are you so happy?” Mike pushed his small blue head through the hole on the side of the bag. 

“I like easy money,” Norton smiled to himself as he walked over to the small desk with piles of books arranged into small towers.

The smile did not leave his face even when he saw the dark skinned woman throwing a judgmental look his way. She probably figured out the reason for the crooked smile that refused to leave Norton Campbell.

“Old book first,” she started not even waiting for Norton to start his sentence.

“Can’t I keep it? For this once?”

Patricia raised her brows, her eyes wandering from the books to Norton’s lopsided smile as she connected the dots between the request and the urge to own a review copy.

“Every book we get is stamped with the Ex Libris of the company,” she noted, noticing how Norton’s eyebrows lightly pulled into a frown. “Besides, didn’t you just read it recently? Wait a few months and I’ll give it to you and until then you can have a new book on your shelf. Now, give back your old copies.”

With a sour look on his face after he realized that the book would have no further financial gain for him, Norton pulled the book out from his bag, throwing a glare at the bird looking back at him, before he quickly flapped the top of the fabric back on it. The bird did not screech even if he had all the reason to do so after being handled so roughly. He could only hope that they would finally leave the office and its ink-steam filled rooms behind. 

When the next time Norton opened his bag the fresh air immediately washed away the odd nausea caused by the chemicals mixing together, urging him to leap out and finally flutter around with his cramped wings, washing his lungs out with every breath he took. 

“How do you survive in an environment like that?” Mike complained as he landed on his perch on Norton’s shoulder. 

“If it pays money, I will manage,” the man shrugged. “Better than the mines at least.”

“You don’t seem to enjoy it,” Mike noted, feeling Norton’s shoulder go tense beneath his clawed feet.

“As I said, if it pays, it pays.” he grumbled.

Mike repeated his words in his thoughts, trying to figure out a hidden meaning, but at the end of the line, all he could see was a miserable person pretending to be someone who he was not and hating every moment of it.

Chapter Text

After they left the court of the gray building, the two were once again hit by the merciless spring wind and the lonesome raindrops that somehow kept finding their way to Norton’s face, reminding him about how his stubbornness led him to leave his umbrella at home despite every warning that was thrown his way. Only after a day, he knew Mike would never miss a chance to bring it up, yet right now he was looking at the street in front of them, lost in his own thoughts, occasionally glancing at the man, putting together the pieces of a puzzle that might help him understand the stubborn bipedal mule beneath his feet.

Just like how he expected, Norton walked forward, refusing to get out of the way of people walking towards him from the opposite direction as if this too, was a symbol of status. Maybe if he kept his head up high enough, he might turn rich one day. Mike couldn’t really tell.

Watching him fumble around while pretending to be the idol of confidence was a sad sight and now that Mike had a chance to see into the man’s life, he couldn’t help but feel pity for him. The awkward make-believe he tried to play just made his heart squeeze uncomfortably and reminded himself of a past he had left behind.

“You said that you work there because it pays, but you know, I couldn’t help but notice that you despise your own job,” Mike started, watching as the corner of Norton’s mouth moved as he grit his teeth, a deep breath stuck in his lungs as he stopped himself from answering. He seemed to hit a nerve and found one of the sensitive topics Norton loved to sweep under the rug with the guise of earning good money.

Yet, even for Mike, who was locked away from civilization for so long it was obvious that whatever little money he managed to scrape together barely covered his expenses.

His home was situated next to a park, it was also at the edge of town surrounded by taller buildings preventing the inner garden from gaining any sunlight, making it so that only the most wantless plants could withstand the dire circumstances, and the dark pit their owners banished them. On the other hand, Norton’s home was small and the damp and musty air from the staircase kept invading the generally calming scent of old wood and books, occasionally drawing forth a cough when Norton’s lungs had enough of the mistreatment and forcing him to open a window. The condition seemed to be permanent and Mike couldn’t help but doubt that he would willingly choose a small burrow like that.

And then there was his stinginess about food, tea portioned by a small tin spoon, the bread he had was also cut into even slices, almost as if it was measured by a ruler.

While Mike was liable to believe what people had said without asking further questions, Norton’s words and expressions directly clashed with his own personal experiences, making him even more curious about the man clad in Prussian blue.

As Norton walked forward with a set goal in mind he did not notice the way Mike studied him, fitting pieces together from the information he had gathered and his thoughts stopping hesitantly when he had hit a dead end when he ran out of information. 

“You know, when we first met, I did not think that you would be working in literature,” he admitted at last, purposely weaving his words to draw forth a reaction. However, he was bad at reading the mood and failed to notice the slight change in Norton’s expression as he continued. “Unlike most people who put their heads to writing, your palm is calloused, meaning that you’ve been doing physical work. You also mentioned that your only reason for taking this job is to work for money. There are many oddities here, if you follow me… Why would someone who is a master of his occupation turn to something he has no knowledge of?”

“Would it physically hurt you to act normal and stop being nosy for just one hour?” Norton barked, his head awkwardly turning towards the bird. 

“Yes, yes it would,” came the answer almost immediately, bearing the same cocky tone he carried when they met yesterday. “I am already running on toast and a few drops of tea here, so the only way to keep my humble self alive is to feed me bits and pieces about yourself!”

“Then you can just drop dead. I’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Pf… It’s good to know that you might wear fancy clothes, but your manners are of a lowlife beggar. Adding that to my notes.”  A hand swiped towards him, but Mike easily hopped away quickly springing on the top of Norton’s hat. “Oh, did that hit a nerve?”

It did, Norton wanted to say it, but his pride did not allow any words.

Mike was right about him parading around without truly belonging to the world he was striving for but hated at the same time. He felt like a monkey that was repeatedly put out for display in clothes that felt too tight and restricting. Not something he had worn in the past twenty eight years except on Sundays when he was ushered to church by his mother. However, even that tradition abruptly came to an end.

Sensing that the discussion can’t go on any longer, Mike went silent, hopping back to his shoulder when he felt that Norton would not try to sweep him away and the coast was finally clear. None of them really said an apology after the words they have thrown at each other, nurturing their hurt in silence. The words remained heavy, pulling the two down as they went through the noisy street, people stealing curious glances at the man with the colorful sparrow sized bird on his shoulder. 

“Sorry… I am just teasy,” Norton eventually muttered, heaving a low sigh once he started feeling uncomfortable in their silence. He did not bring up his previous words or how he wished death upon the annoying creature.

But Mike seemed to go on with his train of thoughts, his voice sounding more serene as they went through the small setted street where not even a horse cart could fit through. As he spoke his voice barely reached the windows above them, it was swept away by the winds that brought the scent of rain with themselves.

“My apologies... It seems I hit the nail on the head about you coming from a poor family,” Mike was ready to hop away if a hand reached out for him, but Norton just grabbed the strap of his messenger bag until his knuckles went white. “It’s not an awkward or bad thing, you know. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”

“You say this as if you knew anything.”

“Well, for your information, I am a great observer,” he proudly spread his wings, almost falling off from Norton’s shoulder when a gust of wind caught his feathers. 

“Can’t you observe something else?”

“For the moment? No. You are the sole subject of my interest and if you won’t tell me more about yourself I’ll be sure to study you even more and more and more. You could have spared yourself from this fate if you were a tad bit more honest, maybe if you had repaid the favor on the day we met.” Mike listed his past grievances before pulling on a stray strand of black hair, to get Norton’s attention again. “But it will be hard if you don’t tell me anything, Nort. I’ll keep being nosy.”

“Why are you so bloody annoying?” the man growled.

“As a bird it is my duty to chirp into your ears from sunrise to sunset!” Mike exclaimed proudly. “But I’d lie if I said that I don’t find you interesting, you and your stingy way of living. You might as well be the next Ebenezer Scrooge in the making. You got the personality down to a point, now all you need is money and power.”

“Would you finally stop biting into me whenever you can just because you did not get what you wanted?!” Norton stopped in his tracks, the sudden change making Mike tilt forward. Ever since he left the forest, the bird was following him like some sort of demon, repeatedly trying to find ways to annoy him and stab him with the world’s sneakiest insults, but the fact that he was likened to a prideful rich man was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Do you even have any idea how hard I worked to climb up here? How much I had to starve and put away from my wage while I was kept in debt by my employer?! What does it feel like to be alone for all of your life and being forced to go down into the mines almost every day or else you will die? Not seeing the sun for days? You don’t. So maybe you can stop likening me to pretentious rich tusses.”

“You are insufferable.. I am not even sure why I keep wasting my time with you,” the bird puffed up his feathers, but he did not pursue a conversation anymore no matter how much he wanted to tell his own share of problems that he had carefully collected over the years, but all of his pain would probably fall to deaf ears. Just like everything he had told the man up until now.

Norton Campbell obviously only cared about himself.

Suddenly, an old lady looked out of her window to take a peek at the commotion, her room flooding the static music of the radio to the street creating another awkward wall of silence between the two. Norton walked forward, gritting his teeth since even after all the words he threw at it, the bird, while he was clearly angry, still kept himself to his resolution to travel on his shoulder. His feet led him through a marketplace, where most of the sellers have gone home after selling their wares in the morning tumult. Without the sea of people the place looked desolate with its bare wooden booths and the fallen vegetables that nobody bothered to collect yet. 

However, their destination was not the market, nor the small row of shops that framed the street. Norton did not even turn his head as he rushed past everything that came their way, his steps echoing in the small alleyway as the cold sound of rain arrived, slowly painting the world around them into a darker, but more vibrant color. Mike did not miss the small movement as Norton fastened the top of the bag so the rain would not ruin his newly obtained book, but he did not comment on it. His attention was soon on the tall rooftop that grew closer and closer. The cross on its top standing like a cruel joke, attracting his gaze and spreading a pitiful sense of hope in his tiny chest.

Did the man he rescued finally change his mind? He doubted at first, but when they arrived at the small square he had to realize that there were no other attractions that could have served as a goal for his human companion. His chest squeezed in excitement as the heavy door opened with a creak and his face was hit by the ancient air and the scent of freshly melted wax coming from the left side of the building where rows of small candles kept the prayers alive. 

“Norton, the holy water! You are at a church not at the pub!” he hissed when the man immediately tried to rush to the altar only to be pecked by his chin. Mike could not allow Norton to ruin his one and only chance, even if he himself had no idea whether or not religion was even relevant to his freedom.

Dipping his fingers into the water Norton smirked, sprinkling a few drops on the bird, frowning when his hair was pulled in return. 

“I was so hoping that the holy water would make you go away…” he muttered under his breath as he unwillingly crossed himself, splashing the last drops of water from his fingertips towards the bird who just ruffled his feathers into an angry blue poof. “Maybe this is just tap water.”

“Just let’s get over it if you can’t stop whining,” the bird tweeted. “I’ll be out of your life for good.”

“Don’t forget what you promised.”

Norton walked towards the altar like someone who would turn around the next moment and break it into a run, his eyes looking for a priest or any kind of clergyman probably fearing that he might get some unwanted attention due to the bird on his shoulder.

In truth, the immense guilt he carried around kept sneaking around his body like a rusty chain, constricted his limbs and pulling him back with a strength he had never felt before. The words he had never told anyone safe for one returned to remind him that he did not belong there and the blood that stuck to his hands was never washed away.

Once they arrived at the wine red carpet that led up to the marble altar at the end of the hall, Mike glided down from his shoulder, his feathers shimmering in the dim light. Hopping around eagerly as he kept telling Norton to hurry up, while the man could barely lift his feet and the only thing keeping his focus was the blue puff of feathers standing in front of him..

Once he was sure that nobody would chase him out for playing around in the house kept for god, he threw his bag to the ground and went to one knee in front of the bird, resting a hand on his other leg.

“Just a note, I am not kissing you. Your beak won’t go near my mouth. Ever.” he warned the bird. “So how do we do this?”

Mike lifted his wings almost as if he was shrugging.

“Just do what couples do at a wedding, I guess. Repeat each other’s words and then say I do, and boom, magic happens.”

With a single nod, Norton tried to dig up what little memories he had of the procedure from the time he was five and his parents forced him to attend a village wedding. Hanging his head in frustration, he tried to remember the speech the priest always read as he stood in front of the newlyweds, but his words failed him each time he tried to start.

His face slowly grew more and more red, indicating the embarrassment he felt inside until out of frustration he just blurted what came to his mind at the moment with Mike repeating his words.

“So… I, Norton Campbell, will take you the annoying Mike Morton, to be my husband and…”he stopped, eyes looking at the painting above his head as if a scene from the book of genesis would help him continue. “For richer, for poorer… health and in sickness, till death do us part,” but hopefully sooner, he added in his head. “In front of God, I make this vow.”
“I do! I do!” Mike jumped eagerly.

“I do too,” Norton muttered in return, but just as he had expected, nothing happened. Once they finished the church was once again enveloped by its serene silence, only the wind shaking its rose-tinted windows warning them about the upcoming storm. He felt something akin to pity as he watched the bird’s chest rise and fall in panic as he looked at his body, lifting his wings to see if they were still there. 

“No…” Mike’s word came out as a pained whimper, until he started pulling on a feather, successfully plucking it and regretting the moment he did as pain jolted through his entire body.

 It did not work, the only way that could have helped him did not work.

 Standing perfectly still, he stared at the ground locking out the world as his mind ran panicked circles between fear and hopelessness. “No no no no. This should have worked. She told me… She told me if I get married, if someone asks me…”

Standing up to dust his trousers, Norton have him a slow, almost mocking smile.

“Well whatever someone told you, it was clearly a joke. I fulfilled the end of the deal myself, so you can go around making a fool of someone else.”

There were claws hidden in each word and yet, as he looked at the small creature almost immediately a sense of regret came over him. Seeing Mike’s entire world shatter in front of him made him pity the creature, yet not to the point where he would extend a hand to the pitiful bird.

Ignoring the voices that urged him to gather up the bird and take him home, the lone poet just gathered his things and turned around leaving Mike alone with his own thoughts. 

Chapter Text

It was a lucky day for Norton, or at least he considered it to be one when he opened the door to his home and a scene of complete silence greeted him. No birds flapping their wings, tweeting and chirping. Nobody was there to throw insults at his head for not listening to their selfish demands. The entire room had a serene atmosphere that he deserved to experience, he tried to tell himself, refusing to acknowledge the sigh that left his lips when every little noise he made echoed in the empty home. To shake the feeling off somehow, his mind immediately grabbed into the things he had to do, trying to set up some sort of distraction through urging him to work. However, even the constant reminders couldn’t truly chase away the awkward feeling in his guts or the monster that grew bigger the longer Norton Campbell was locked in together with his own thoughts.

The darkness that followed him around silently lurked in the shadows, waiting patiently for the right moment to embrace Norton and make everything seem so much worse than then already been, suffocating him with old memories and pulling him under the wave of loneliness.

However, Norton Campbell also learned how to keep it at bay for most of the time and the moment he discarded the wet coat his mind was already focused on his next movement, fingers pulling out the book he had gotten, before the bag haphazardly landed on the ground, leaving a thin circle of water around itself. The varnished parquet will eventually avenge itself, but he kept pulling himself in the thought that he won’t have to live in this shabby home and maybe by the time it finally happens, he will move a bit deeper into the heart of the town, to a more livable home.

The floor creaked beneath his steps as he threw himself on the tattered yellow couch, which was also a generous gift from the previous owner of the home. The old spring creaked under his weight but he couldn’t care less as long as the furniture fulfilled its role and did not cave in beneath his weight.

Holding the book to eye-level, first the first time he took a closer glance at the cover.

The blue woven cotton with gold imprints and a black silhouette of a ship, tilted to its side as some sort of silent suggestion about the genre of the story Norton was about to experience. Shaking his head, he let a smirk spread upon his lips as he turned the few pages, his eyes glancing over the words that were caught by his attention only to be greeted by the usual style: the boring inner monologues and other artistic choices that completely destroyed the flow and corroded the meaning behind the lengthy sentences. Norton had to re-read sentences several times just to get what the author originally wanted to express in his artistic craze only to fail most of the times. DeRoss, while he was the author of several bestsellers, once again created something that just couldn’t catch his eye and only drew a sigh out of Norton as he dropped the book on his chest, throwing his head back in a yawn. 

The entire book will be a mess to chew himself through, but DeRoss at least somewhat paid his time and suffering well, so Norton was not that bothered about it. After all, one book gave him several months’ worth of rent and maybe even some extra.

Stretching his limbs, he slid off the seat only to walk through the small room and make his stop at the tattered old wooden table that held the equipment of torture. The metallic beast still had half of his previous work within its maw, taunting him with words he had written and urging him to finish what he had started. 

Sitting down and clicking his lamp, he stared at his own words like they were written by a stranger who climbed through his window in the dead of night. Eventually, his fingers moved on their own but the letters were never pushed. No matter how much he tried to bring out coherent thoughts his mind involuntarily focused on the events of the afternoon, the desperate look in the bird's eyes when he was robbed from his future.

The panic, the fear and the collapse.

The catalyst of emotions clashing together in that small, fragile body until they exhausted each other and they were nothing more than gentle rippling on the surface of a quiet lake. The storm that tore into the bird's heart disappeared almost immediately.

It was a beautiful yet heartbreaking scene and Norton soon found himself scribbling lines onto a scrap of paper, rhymes about a deceptive bird manifesting almost naturally.

He would be lying if he said that he did not feel an inkling of pity towards the creature, yet there was also part of him that repeatedly reminded him of the words that were thrown at his head. He had enough problems as it is! 

Yet… yet he found himself missing that annoying voice, and the feathers repeatedly brushing against his cheeks as the bird found every possibility to pull on his hair or digging his beak into his clothes and skin. As embarrassing as it is to admit, in a short span of time he loved company and even the constant nagging reminded him of the good parts of his past.

Heaving a sigh, he leant back in his chair, looking at the half-baked poem and the unfinished article in confusion. Only one would bring him money.

However, as he was pondering over this, his eyes fell on the window in front of him. In the darkness of the night all he could see was the raindrops hitting the glass, glistening in the light of his room for a second, before sliding into darkness. But there was something else… a glow that did not fade with time and it gave off its own blue light.

A light he had grown to know almost too well.

Mike Morton, the bird who just tricked him into making a fool of himself, was sitting on his windowpane, facing the sea of dark trees beneath the room. 

It would have been easy to pull the curtains, hide the bird from view, yet as he held the corner of the thick fabric between his fingers Norton couldn't find the willpower to act upon his decision. Yet he found himself staring at the ball of feathers and the way the bird did its best to hide itself in its fortress of feathers.

The wind picked up, hitting the raindrops against his window with force to bring Norton back to reality and remind him about a problem at hand. Looking unsure about what to do, he eventually found his hands wandering to the handle of the window, turning it around to open it slightly, without letting in the flood of rain. The bird perched up at the sudden sound, but when he saw that what happened, he slumped back to his feathery hideout.

“Shouldn’t you be back in the forest?” he asked, but the bird did not move. Wondering if his voice even reached him through the humming of the rain, Norton repeated the sentence again, with still no response.

“I can’t go home,’ he muttered into his feathers. “At least not yet. Not after I failed like this.”

“Maybe you were never meant to be human,” Norton shrugged, leaning out the window stopping right before the wall of rain. If he had taken a closer look, he would have seen the pain in those eyes, before the bird hung his head.

“Maybe…” he murmured in a soft voice. His beak still moved after that, but the rest of the sentence was washed away by the rain knocking on the roof. 

“Now, are you going to come inside or do you want to stay here in the rain? Since I am pretty sure you came her with that intention.”

“…I thought you wanted me gone from your life.”

“Exactly. But it’s not like I’ll be given this honor based on the look of things,” Norton scolded him, shaking his head. Mike refused to move, so he eventually just leaned out to scoop the bird with his hands, cradling him as he lifted the tiny body and pulled it back to the safety of his shabby room.

Keeping the curse that rushed to his lips when the pearls of rain dropped to his writing, he quickly grabbed a grey handkerchief from his coat pocket and put the motionless bird on top of it before he sat back to work. Once again, his fingers played with the letters again, pushing them down but never hitting the paper through the ink ribbon.

Now that the bird was in his sight, it seemed that words kept escaping him and his attention was repeatedly focused on the silence that surrounded them. Picking up a pen, he poked Mike until the bird flapped his wings and took his pen with his beak.

“What’s wrong with you?!” He threw offending object on the floor in retaliation. “Just leave me alone and keep doing whatever you did before. I don’t need your help anymore.”

“Then why are you here? You could have fly away the moment I grabbed you,” Norton raised a brow. His question seemed to take the bird off guard as he started flapping his wings again not really knowing how to answer. “Don’t tell me it’s complicated, or I’ll throw you out for good.”

“No wonder you are an unpopular bloke,” the bird muttered, before standing up and shaking the remaining water off his velvety feathers. “Well… I can’t exactly go back to the forest. Not anymore. I made a decision and it can’t be undone for a very long time even if I wanted to. But it’s not like I plan on grieving over what already happened! I just need some time to come up with a plan.”

Norton nodded. Mike was clearly depressed over his decision and the louder he got about them, the more obvious it became.

“So what are your plans exactly? Because I am surely not allowing you to haunt my window every day.”

“It’s not like I have any other choice!” Mike screeched at him. “Do I need to remind you that you are the reason why I am still like this?”

“Me?” Norton looked at the angry ball of feathers in disbelief. “As far as I remember, I did what you told me. It’s not my fault that your idea was proved to be false in the end. You were the one sending me on a wild goose chase!”

“My idea was right, it was your execution that ruined it!”

“You know it well, that was not the case. And if all you can do is to argue then the window is always there. You don’t need to sit inside.”

This seemed to reach Mike as he finally sat down, arranging his tattered wet feathers until he looked presentable. Seeing that the conversation would not go further for now, Norton’s attention returned to the sole “However” he had managed to type down. Frowning, he quickly added a comma, before he arrived at another wall in his article. He was supposed to write short summaries that would later serve as recommendations in the pages of the newspaper, but keeping his thoughts curt and on point deemed to be harder than how he initially anticipated. Eventually he found himself resting his head on the table, hiding his face in his arms. Mining was in many cases easier. At least he did not have to feign a positive attitude in front of an entire audience.

He heard the rhythmic knocking of clawed feet on the wooden surface, but he did not raise his head to look what the bird was up to.

“This does not make any sense,” he heard a fast paced chirping coming from the direction of the typewriter. “Do you write a sentence every day? The tonal changes are atrocious. I can’t decide if you want to sell me the story or talk me out of it.”

Raising his head, he had seen the bird sitting on the roller of the machine, his tiny head moving from left to right as he read through what little text Norton managed to put on paper up until now.

“How would you know what’s good?”

“Because I am not stupid,” the bird countered, his small clawed feet already on the end of the heavy roller, he tried to get the paper out of the machine. He was too light and weak so the attempt looked more like a funny little dance.  “I seriously recommend a heavy rewrite if you want to get money for this.”

Norton just sighed, as he let his head hit the table again. The day was too eventful for his liking and the fact that he had to deal with a dumb talking bird trying to tell him what to do with his writing just added to his exhaustion.

“I don’t need help,” he muttered.

“Khm… Let me then… The book’s plot is not as complicated as the title makes it sound, yet it’s humorous and enjoyable. It takes the reader to the bright canals of Venice and tells about an adventure of long forgotten love and the importance of living in the moment. It’s truly a wonderful and enjoyable little book. It might be perfect for taking it easy for a day…” As he read, Mike made sure to raise his voice in a mocking tone whenever he arrived at a sentence that did not make sense in the grand image of the essay, making Norton cringe as he was forced into the realization that his writing… was far from intelligent. “I am surprised that your boss is only throwing back your poems. This is horrible, a crime against literature! Did you even read the book?”

“No.”

“Thought so…” Mike nodded, growing silent for a second as he hopped around the letters, his weight never quite pushing down the dark colored buttons on the machine. “Alright! So… since I can’t exactly go home right now, nor in the near future, how about me helping you in return for having a roof above my head?” 

Norton finally raised his head at the suggestion, frowning as he looked at the bird who proudly puffed his chest out. He just got rid of the pesky creature and yet it kept returning to him almost as if they both had magnets attached to their back. Something told me if he rejected the offer, Mike Morton would keep following him just for the heck of it even if they had previously established that Norton can’t help him with his problem. 

“What do I get out of this?”

“You will have an extra eye looking through your work before you even attempt to bring it to your boss, therefore you might avoid writing nonsense.” He fluttered his wings, jumping on the buttons. “Besides… You are still in debt.”

Norton knew where this conversation was going.

“In debt… I think I did my part of the deal.”

“Well, you certainly did not do it justice because I am still, as you can see, a bird!”, He spread his wings, turning around so Norton could see his whole body and the feathers glistening in the light of his lamp.

“I’ll make some tea…” Norton mumbled to himself as he pushed his chair back.

He wondered if this was the famous Campbell curse at work, hitting him when he needed it the least.

Chapter Text

For some reason seeing the pesky bird so early in the morning, huddled up into a ball of blue feathers made him unexplainably calm and while admitting it loudly would hurt his pride, the knowledge that he had a sentient being with him in the house lifted his mood. Back when he first moved in, the silence was almost deafening, he would have turned to his other side, struggling to get out of bed because his body just refused to listen to him.

He had worked enough for all his life without a break, so instead chose the safety of his duvet burying his head deeper into the pillow, subconsciously missing the noisy life around the mines. Eventually, he reminded himself enough times that he absolutely can’t allow skipping a day, not after he finally had his life on a solid path. 

However, this time as the morning light seeped through his curtains he did not feel the need to hide and before he knew it, Norton was on his way towards his kitchen to start the day. Shaking the sleep out of his shoulders he put a kettle of water on the stove, organizing his small kitchen before opening the window that looked to the shady court in the middle of the building. Once he moves, he will have a better view, he noted to himself as he sat down, rereading the articles that were so fervently criticized just several hours before.

While Mike was no less annoying and he nagged him over the most trivial things. Be it his style, his grammar or even just a miniscule typo that would have been corrected in publication, he was there to point it out and demand a rewrite.

Norton had to admit that the result was not that bad.

In fact, the idea seemed to work in practice better than he had imagined and his words finally seemed to flow as intended. However, this was something he would not admit so openly as any more ego stroking might make the bird more insufferable. Like he was not already a menace to deal with.

In the inner garden the rest of the house started to murmur and with the passing of the rain, it seemed that the scent of petrichor brought them out from their homes. The lady who always called out for her husband before leaving for the market was louder than before, her question echoing in the small kitchen with a muffled reply that was followed by her harsh voice explaining that squashes are out of season and he should ask for something easier and cheaper. It was almost like a comedy routine at this point, every day using a different vegetable as its main point.

Norton felt an urge to join in the conversation with his own piece of thought about the man being picky, but eventually he just focused on the boiling water and the sad drink he hardly dared to call tea. 

Suddenly something blue flew into the kitchen, gliding to the top of his table before falling over a wrinkle in his table cloth. So much for grace and elegance.

“Morning,” he mumbled into his ‘tea’, wrinkling his nose when the taste hit his tongue.

“Good morning,” Mike greeted him but his feathers lacked their usual neatness and he looked quite disheveled with fluffy feathers sticking out from his back and wings. Opening his beak, he let out a yawn, blinking slowly at the tea in front of Norton. “Can I finally get some?”

“I don’t have cups appropriate for a bird of your size,” came Norton’s reply as he quickly raised the cup to his lips.

“But you had the guts to make me stay up late at night just to make something of your shabby writing,” the bird huffed. 

“Don’t call my writing shabby. It gets food on the table.”

“And it could get more food on the table if you were a bit more serious about it,” Mike nodded as he stretched his wings and legs. “But of course with my help you are not entirely a lost case. You are already a pro at writing about nothing and getting nowhere with it in a thousand words.”

Norton just huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“We will see what the hag says about it.”

“She will like it. After all, she is a nice person!”

“Sure…” Norton sipped his tea, but his expression told Mike that the man was in utter disbelief after hearing his optimism. Keigan? Nice? Those two were as far in his book as it was physically possible. Sometimes Norton felt like Keigan was really considering firing him, but at the same time watching the bumbling idiot try to play a role unfit for him was more hilarious. He really couldn’t see any other reason to keep him around, other than being a local laughing stock and make a request that Norton should always bring his works to her first for approval.

Soon, the bitterness of his tea spread to his tongue and his thoughts, one awkward realization following the other.

Was he truly as bad as the bird stated? It wouldn’t be the first time he was kept around because he was different from the average British blokes and this seemed to be extremely funny to them. Even now, he might be only there for the sheer entertainment level he brought…

What brought him back to reality was a bird standing like a statue next to his cup of tea, staring holes into his forehead. 

“You were brooding. And I kept sipping your disastrous tea and you did not even notice it.” Mike noted when he noticed that Norton was back on Earth again. His statement earned a frown, but instead of pouring the contents down the drain, Norton just sourly pushed his tea closer to the bird. 

“Now you took out the fun from teasing,” the bird sighed, but accepted the generous offer. Shaking his head when he tried to drink the tasteless leaf-water. He would not mock tea by putting it on the same page with whatever Norton did in his kitchen.

When he noticed that the responses were lacking, his eyes had found the man again. 

“For a second you looked sad, you know. Was it because of Keigan?”

Norton just shrugged, avoiding his gaze by focusing his attention on the courtyard and the discussions that echoed through the tall walls of the building. He did not expect that Mike could easily just hop on his shoulder with a few flaps of wings, looking at the same view as him.

“There is nothing there…” Mike said before he pulled on his hair again, almost getting himself swept off Norton’s shoulder. With his original plan going up in smoke, he had set out a new goal for himself which was closely related to the bumbling poet right beneath his clawed feet. 

After all, if he can’t regain his original form anymore, he has to spend his time in a meaningful way.

“You are too nosy,” Norton muttered. 

“Yes I am,” he nodded proudly. “But only because without me you wouldn’t even eat breakfast. Where is the bread from yesterday?”

“That was the last slice.”

“Eh? EH?!” Mike had to glide down to the table to get a better glance at Norton. The man still stared out the window with little to no will to make eye contact with the bird again, burying his mouth in his hand and pretending that he just saw something peculiar on the hallway. However, Mike could see that the redness of embarrassment slowly spread to his neck and ears, leading to a rare kind of showcase of emotions. “You were planning to skip breakfast…”

“And what if I did? It would not be the first time.”

“Norton…” Mike lowered his voice. 

“What? Just mind your own business.” Norton told him as he started gathering his writings in his hands, slowly arranging the articles and reviews on top of each other. He picked up his poems too, arranged them several times, put them into the pile in his hand, but eventually he counted them back with his finger and put them next to Mike. 

“Well as your friend I am obliged to point several things out and nag you until you finally start acting like a human in a society. It will start with eating,” Mike nodded to himself. “Mainly because I am hungry too and I won’t eat breadcrumbs out of a dumpster!”

“One, you are not my friend. Two, what do you know about society? You lived in a forest,” Norton pointed out as he turned around leaving a flabbergasted bird in his wake.

Stepping into his living room felt like he suddenly walked from night to daytime with the morning light finally flooding his vision and enveloping his cursed typewriter in an ethereal atmosphere. Shaking his head, his attention fell on the string that he pulled out between the window and a shelf by tying each end to a secure spot. It was a makeshift drying rack since he did not have enough space in his home and whenever he tried to do the same between the bathroom’s window and the door, the clothes just fell the second he opened the door forcing him to waste even more water by washing everything again. Eventually he settled with the living room for the sake of convenience, even if it looked silly and impractical.

Leaving his work on the table Norton walked to the green coat, pulling it apart by the sides to confirm that it was dry despite the inconvenient surroundings. A small smile played on his lips when he saw that the velvety green coat was ready to be taken outside and seen by the entire town. 

As they should.

After all this was the first thing he brought with his last payment at the colliery.

“You should have it mended,” Mike piped in hanging upside down from the string next to the coat. “The seams are coming apart. You should med them.”

“I will repair it when I have the time,” Norton answered coldly, pulling the piece of cloth off with the force that almost made the bird fall. His tiny feet locked in a position, he kept dangling like a freshly caught fish, before he pushed himself off and with a pirouette flew in top of Norton’s work, missing the goal and immediately falling to the side.

“No wonder you have no friends,” Mike quietly huffed as he looked up at the man who barely even noticed his presence and kept throwing his clothes together on the couch. First the coat and trousers, before he disappeared in his bedroom and after a loud creaking noise a white shirt and an undercoat joined his garments.

He did not expect Norton to start undressing right in front of him, yet there he was, refusing to admit that Mike even existed; he went on with his day and soon stood there in nothing but his underwear.

“Do you have no shame?” Mike blurted out in disbelief.

“Rich, coming from a bird who is always naked,” he got the answer that actually earned him to shut up. He closed his beak and frowned, his eyes following the man. In the bathtub, he did not have enough time to study the scars that ran on the man’s arms and side and the claw of burn marks ending up on his shoulder like something grabbed his shoulder more forcefully. The wounds have faded already, which meant that whatever happened to Norton was old history by now yet he couldn’t miss the fact that he still seemed to carry their pain around poisoning his surroundings with it.

Just what the hell happened to him? He mused to himself as the number of clothes lying on the couch started to dwindle and the scars were soon covered by them. With swift movements he joined Norton taking his seat on his left shoulder as if studying his face could somehow give him an answer.

….

The air in the small office sat still despite the open window even the curtains refused to move as Keigan’s eyes followed the typed words, occasionally stopping just to push up her glasses and blink a few times, making some markings on the paper with red just like how a school teacher would. 

However, even Norton noticed that the number of corrections were significantly lower and the woman rarely stopped as she turned the pages that held several articles and synopsis. Even Mike seemed to peek out curiously from the small gap on the top of his leather messenger bag, raising the bag a bit where his head was.

Keigan hummed approvingly as she reached the last page before the last piece of paper was put on the pile in front of her with its white side looking at the ceiling.

“I am rather impressed,” she admitted, taking her reading glasses off as she leaned forward in her seat. A soft yes made its way to the office to which Norton instinctively pushed down the hump on his bag.

“Pardon?” the woman blinked in confusion.

“I-Its nothing,” Norton blurted out awkwardly, giving another slap at his bag. If someone were to find out that he was walking around with a wild animal he would be fired on the spot. To avoid further suspicion “Anyway, I’ll take these to the editor then. Thank you for taking your time to read these through, Mrs. Keogh.”

“No poems today?” The woman looked at him with surprise, but Norton just bowed his head and left, leaving her in the silence of her office. Keigan could only blink in confusion, not really understanding how a profit oriented, pushy man would suddenly stop trying to sell his half-baked poems but the development intrigued her.

***

Outside, it was hard not to see that compared to his usual visits, the smile playing on Norton’s lips was genuine. Due to his inexperience on the field, he was possibly the only employee who had to personally visit the head of the publisher every time he tried to take a step forward. He heard the others whisper behind his back, thinking that he might be some relative who sucked up to their boss to get some pocket money. The only person who seemingly did not try to put another hole into his reputation was Patricia Dorval, who just looked at him in confusion as the pages slid towards her on the desk.

“Alright, who did you kill?” she asked, raising her brow. Norton refused to acknowledge the teasing and instead leaned over, pointing at the few corrections Keigan had made. “Oho! After two years we have finally arrived at the point where your synopsies are not full of red!” 

“They were never full of red!” Norton argued, but Patricia just glared at him. As someone whose job was to turn smaller articles into a readable and presentable format, Norton Campbell was one of the most dreaded coworkers she had ever had. 

“Sure, sure, Campbell.” she gave him a wry smile as she handed him a receipt that she had accepted the works and payments can be arranged.

Probably the only person worse than Norton was the clown who kept trying to make changes after he had given her the manuscripts, repeatedly demanding Patricia for rewrites. The only thing that could stop her was the fact that she did not fear to put down her feet once she had enough and she verbally sent the man to warmer climates.

And the person with such privileges approached her table with confidence that would make an army halt. His expensive shoes clicked against the wooden floor, only going silent when he stopped, giving a long hard glance at Norton. 

Freddy Riley never missed an opportunity to kick into Norton, or anyone to be honest. Some even rumored that the verbal fights and discourses actually added years to his lifespan as he dipped out of the conversation to be a bystander the moment two or more people joined so he could enjoy the chaos he created. 

“You still work here?” he squinted behind his round glasses. “I was pretty sure your kind was in the news regarding the animal attack at the beginning of the week. Guess we are not that lucky.”

“I don’t intend to quit, Riley” Norton added, anger seeping into his words as he refused to give over his place in front of Patricia.

“Eh? Too bad. You know, you can teach a parrot how to talk, but it won’t get more intelligent just from that.”

Mike’s head popped out from the bag as the three conversed, making sure to memorize the man’s face. Norton being rude was one thing, he could excuse his words, but this man was really something else and even the way he pronounced his sentences made his blood boil.

“Freddy,” Patricia’s voice cut into the argument. Her voice was sharp and made it obvious that she had enough from the constant banter.  “Are you here to fight or are you going to do something reasonable for once?”

“You bet I will! Because unlike some jock, I am allowed to publish more than tidbits and sentences that are shorter than a rabbit’s tail.”

The man looked at her, raising his shoulders as he proudly put his work on the table, not missing a chance to boast about his supposed rank and power he held at the publisher in front of a superior employee who had repeatedly failed to climb the ladders to publication.

Patricia just stared at him as she took the writing. Her previous good mood was nowhere to be found and her silence remained and the judging look she kept throwing towards Freddy’s way as she handed him his receipt.

“So what’s the number on yours? Probably low if you refuse to get better clothes,” The man looked at Norton with a high and mighty smile.

Norton wanted to bite back, even to punch the man in the face, but he couldn’t. Not without losing what he had earned so far.

His chest eventually started burning and a muffled cough rocked Norton’s body as he did his best to keep his back straight and keep an eye contact with the other author. Almost as if all that pent up anger was finally manifesting and breaking through his barriers. Mike watched him with worry, thinking about stepping in, but Norton managed to regain his composure, taking slow breaths to calm his lungs as he stared daggers into Freddy.

“At least I am not trying to get rich on love-thirsty housewives,” he managed at last, words still whistling as the remnant of his fit was still lurking around. Freddy’s face visibly shifted into a grimace as he grit his teeth, but somehow managed to keep the smug smile on his lips.

Patricia just sighed, closing a book with a loud thud that rocked the table at her feet.

“I swear… If you want to bark like two stray dogs, take this outside! Some people are trying to work here and their life does not stop after getting their paychecks,” her voice was low and all the more threatening. Norton immediately turned towards her, and without a word he nodded, leaving Freddy without a chance to make a proper counter. Closing his mouth with an audible click, he gave one disdainful glance at Norton before turning around, “At least, take your coat to a tailor, you look ridiculous. Someone will eventually think you are a homeless.”

Even from his hiding spot Mike could see Norton’s breath hitch as his entire body stood still. His lips pressed lightly together he eventually turned around and decided to wade his way through the small office, holding back another fit that came over him. 

Once finally outside, Norton weakly grabbed onto the wall, catching his breath almost as if he had just ran a marathon and did not fight a war with his own body. Breathing shallowly through his twitching throat, he eventually pushed himself away from the wall and with uncertain steps took his way towards the stone arch that separated the small court from the street.

Taking his chance, Mike wiggled his way out of the bag. The rare showcase of weakness of the usual stubborn and cold man made it impossible not to feel some sort of sympathy. 

Probably since the first time they had met, he wanted to chase that frown away and to stop the tears of humiliation from glistening in the corners of his eyes. 

Pulling in the tufts of hair that framed Norton’s face, he tried to get the attention of the man, eventually resorting to use his own crest as a tool, nuzzling his feathers against the man’s neck drawing forth a chuckle as they glided against Norton’s skin.

“Don’t tell me you have let that donkey’s words get to you,” he tweeted. “If you do, you are dumber than I thought you were.” 

“Surely because further insults will lift my mood, right?” Norton rolled his eyes, but Mike did not miss that slight twitch and the way Norton’s lips immediately returned to their previous state.  

“I insult you out of love, he insults you because he is a soggy doughnut. There is a difference there!” He pulled on Norton’s hair again, hoping that the message would finally reach the man. “And I would never say that your coat looks ridiculous because I honestly think that it looks neat. Matches well with my feathers, if I do say so myself!”

“Good thing it does not match your ego in size,” Norton complained, his voice growing quieter the closer they got to the street. “Or else I could truly take my coat to a tailor.”

Not even a second later a pained shriek burst through the murmurs of the street, before the two disappeared behind the doors of a small café.

Chapter Text

At first, Mike thought that their day today will be similar to the previous one. 

Drop down work, take paycheck, go home, work some more with occasional arguments.

However, after they left the cafe where Norton finally decided to eat for the first time of the day, he did not walk towards the small park that always served as the first and last destination of their day. Instead, the man seemed to head out for a different direction, walking over a small stone bridge that stood over a small stream. On its glistening surface three green headed mallards kept waddling with their webbed legs while their body occasionally dipped beneath the crystal clear water.

 Norton’s steps gradually slowed down until he arrived to a full stop on the bridge. Looking around, as if to make sure nobody else could see him, he finally let out a deep sigh he had been carrying around since they left the publishing house. It was different than what Mike was used to. Usually he got a sigh that was more annoyed, a quick huff, barely a sound. However, this could have been an embodiment of defeat.

Pulling his hat off, Norton leaned against the railing of the bridge. His eyes crinkled like a cat looking in a sunbeam as he looked at his own distorted reflection. No matter how many times he glanced into the water the ugly burn marks still darkened his skin, the dead tissues reflecting back the light in the most awkward way possible creating small rows of shadows in the meantime. He wondered how could anyone even give him a proper job with looks like these, but he didn't have to think too much to get reminded of the encounter barely two hours ago. 

His head drooped in defeat as he let out another huff.

However, as he wallowed in his own memories, making sure to walk around the negative experiences several times until he memorized every single word, he did not notice the way Mike glided away from his shoulder and silently started tearing into the grass, complaining about the bitter taste and the uncomfortable feeling against his tongue. In that moment, the outside world completely stopped existing as he headed deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of his own thoughts, while reality rushed past him.

It was not like Norton to feel at loss yet there he was not quite knowing if he was at the right place. Despite all of his efforts to fit in, he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb only gaining negative attention from everyone around him. 

Suddenly, he felt something land on the top of his head, dragging him back to Earth. Instinctively trying to get the thing out of his hair, he had to realize that while he was not looking the pesky bird went to work. On the stone railing a collection of yellow daisies was weaved together into a bouquet with the help of a long blade of grass. Norton did not speak, but the confused look he gave the bird told more than enough.

“You were in a sour mood,” Mike announced the obvious. “And since you consider yourself a poet or something like that, little ol’ me thought flowers might brighten up your mood a little bit.”

“It’s just weed.” Norton dismissed him almost immediately, the crest almost immediately standing up on Mike’s head as the bird bit into the sleeve of his shirt.

“Weed?! Weed?! No, no, no, absolutely not! These are yellow daisies with some marigolds here and there! At least learn the names of the flowers if you are going to juggle with words,” the bird shrieked. “They are a symbol of friendship and happiness! I can’t believe you don’t even know this as a poet. How do you write all those flowery lines without ever tapping into the language of flowers? I swear Burns is tossing and turning in his grave, knowing what his art has devolved into!”

Mike went on and on, walking up and down on the narrow stone railing and he would have probably went on much longer. However, an unfamiliar sentence made its way to his ears, halting his small steps.

“Thanks. ‘Ere…” he took a deep breath. “I appreciate it…”

If Norton were to take a closer look at Mike, he would have seen the way Mike’s eyes shone at the rare response. 

Standing in silence, Norton eventually averted his gaze, his fingertips playing around the stems of the poor flowers that fell victim to the bird.

“You are still thinking about the chipmunk,” he noted, his attention on the duck that dove under the surface of water with a loud splash. He halfheartedly expected Norton to start arguing or brush his problems out of sight, yet to his surprise the man’s shoulders slumped. 

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Then maybe it would be time for you to explain it to someone instead of boiling yourself alive in your own anger. Since you are stuck with me and all, it would also come in handy if I knew you better, and my advices might save you a fair share of headaches,” Mike explained, tilting his head to the side in confusion when he heard a low chuckle coming from Norton.

“I doubt it. You cause almost half of my headaches.”

“Oh come on, just give me a little bit of a hint! How did a man like that get under your skin so fast when I’ve been working on that for days with barely any reaction? I am intrigued.”

Massaging the bridge of his nose, Norton looked up at the sky before his gaze returned to the bird. He was not in the mood to reveal anything about himself, especially in front of someone who hardly ever filtered his own thoughts let alone sharing what he knew. 

But he also had to agree with the bird. The scenes at the publisher did bother him. Just like how the words that were thrown in his way ever since he started working with Keogh.

Heaving a deep sigh he started.

“I have no qualification for the job–”

“Okay Nort, now tell me something I don’t know.” The bird rolled his eyes, but Norton just put his hat on him in retaliation, earning a string of curses.

“So as I said, I have no qualifications for the job. In the settlement I grew up in, they taught us the basics of the basics that we might need for our daily lives and to read contracts, but that was it. We did not learn poetry and the few rhymes I know are from songs the workers used to sing as they headed work.”

“What kind of place teaches kids only the basics?” 

“Miner villages,” came the short reply, almost as if he felt awkward admitting his own past. It was like an ugly smear in his life which kept poisoning his present no matter how much he tried to hide it. “In turn, most workplaces would not employ miners here in town or if they did, it is mostly physical work. After all, in their pristine lives we are nothing but ugly smears covered in coal and dirt, barely better than a homeless person. Freddy… no, most people also know this and they won’t miss a chance to wield it as a weapon.”

When he looked down he was surprised to see that Mike’s attention was solely on him, and after getting rid of his hat, he waited eagerly for Norton to continue.

“Your accent suggests that there is more to this than being a miner. And he called you a nasty word too,” Mike pointed out, his crest standing up when Norton suddenly scoffed.

“Ya hit the nail on the head again. In his eyes, I am nothing more southerner who came up North only to make a fool of himself with his brute and uncivilized writings,” he frowned before he said lowly. “But we will see who is laughing at the end. They will all eat their words when I crawl to the top…”

“That’s the spirit! Let’s get them! And just between us, for someone who only learned the basics of basics you are not half bad at putting words on paper,” Mike jumped excitedly, without noticing the darkness that lurked behind those eyes. However, the simplified version successfully managed to grab his sympathy and pushed him further into the willingness to help Norton. The parts of Norton’s story that could have ruined his excitement were completely omitted, focusing the retelling more on his personal ire and explanations on the prejudice that he had to bear almost every day.

Looking at Mike’s innocent enthusiasm something tickled deep in his heart, almost as if it was urging him to put the truth on display, but he just pushed the thought aside as he put the daisies in his pocket, feeling his heart flutter in melancholy when the bird returned to his usual spot on his left shoulder.

***

The more they walked, the more trees were lining the road, their branches leaning towards the pavement to serve with protection against the warmth of late spring. For a while, Mike managed to stay silent, letting Norton wander alone in his thoughts as he listened to the quiet, almost slumberous nothingness. Turning around on the man’s shoulder, he could see the white line of clouds rising from the small station as a red caterpillar lazily dragged its metallic body until it came to stop, before letting out a sigh of white steam.

“Have you ever been on a train?” Mike asked, feeling a nod against his body. 

“Aye. When I came to town,” Norton turned around, making Mike look the other way where only a sea of trees greeted him. Irritatedly, he was forced to hop around to reclaim the scenery, he did not miss the melancholic gaze as Norton’s eyes followed the rails that disappeared behind the mountains. “I still remember how worried I was that someone might steal my luggage so I had to keep myself from falling asleep with coffee and plenty of pinches on my arms.”

“The great Norton Campbell? Worrying?”

“What now?”

“I always thought your range of emotions vary between neutral, angry and slightly dissatisfied.” Mike chirped, teasing the man whenever he got a grip on him. Before a hand was raised towards his way, he quickly added. “But I am pleased to see that you can actually smirk too. That’s one more emotion to the list!”

The hand still swung, but Mike avoided him with ease, eventually perching on a branch and laughing at the bitter expression on Norton’s face when he realized that he once again fell for the bird’s words. Deep down Mike knew he shouldn’t be enjoying being trapped in the body of a palm sized bird this much, but the ability to just slip away from conflict after a few gentle pecks on Norton’s ego somehow lessened his own irritation. 

Humming an old tune he learned a long time ago, he glided from branch to branch, following Norton around as the man tried to make his way up a slope. His steps becoming more and more unsteady until he eventually stopped and hunched over, a dry cough rocking his entire body and before he knew it Mike was back on his shoulder, giving him worried glances.

“Hey Nort… How about taking a short rest?” he cooed in a more gentle tone, but Norton only shook his head and he was about to start walking again, breaking into another fit. “Oh so you want to cough your lungs out and die here? Then be it. I can’t drag your butt home since you messed up that proposal, so I’ll just bring leaves to your body and mourn you accordingly!”

He was loud, making sure that every word that left his beak hit the target accordingly. With shaky breaths Norton eventually dragged himself to a fence, leaning against the stone perch that held up the wooden planks. His chest still rose erratically as he weakly pulled his hat hiss of head, resting his head against the fence. 

Norton going almost as pale as a ghost scared him. The man who almost stood like an immovable rock, so stubbornly followed his own head collapsed under the pressure of his own body like a castle made of cards. 

“Where are we going anyway?” Mike asked as he pushed Norton’s hat into his lap. 

“It’s none of your business.” Norton pushed out the words.

“Well, it’s my business if you die on this hill even if you are no longer connected to me by a contract.”

“Great,” Norton huffed as he pushed his body away from the white fence and put his hat back on the top of his head. 

All he needed was a bird cawing about taking care of himself.

***

Eventually, after climbing the hill and reaching a point where the small town spread beneath their view, Norton took a turn to the left, walking alongside an expensive fence, where every piece was made to form wrought iron, forming small sparrow shaped birds as they weaved together in-between. Whoever owned the estate was rich, that was without question and from the look of it, each glance towards the corner of the whitewashed walls of the house that was separated from them by a small garden made Norton look as if he had bitten into a lemon.

He clearly did not want to be there, let alone go near the house, yet there he was standing in front of a small black iron gate, ringing the bell impatiently. Until a man dressed in white trousers and a brown striped shirt. Mike did not miss the disappointment on the man’s face when he realized just who was pushing the bell impatiently making an earsplitting ring echo through the entire house with no pause. 

“Go away, I am busy,” they heard the man shout from his door, almost as if leaving the protection of his home meant trouble for him. 

In fact, the mere appearance of Norton Campbell struck him with a kind of feeling one gets taken off when they know that the postman is about to give them bills out of deadline. A costly, and unavoidable visit. In fact, Norton Campbell’s appearance was no different. 

“You are an author, you are never busy!” Norton shouted back as he pushed the bell again, making the man flinch. He narrowed his eyes behind and muttered something under his breath, before he eventually stepped out of the shadow of the door’s safety and walked to the gate.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice strict. 

“I just came over for a visit,” Norton shrugged. The bird rising and falling on his shoulders with the motion.

“Every time you do, it costs me money,” the man shook his head, but eventually took a bundle of keys out of his pocket and with a click, he invited his guests deeper into the estate. While he did not comment on it, his attention was almost mesmerized by the curious bird perching on the miner’s shoulder.

At first glance he thought it might be a kingfisher as its brilliant blue feathers glistened in the sunlight. However, its beak and form was more similar to a sparrow’s, while its tail feathers fell behind him, almost as if it was trying to mimic a swifts, but the some of the swaying tail feather grew too long and started curling upwards. It might have been a roller or a nuthatch, but the shape just did not serve the bird well.

Was it a new specimen…?

In the background he could hear something akin to the miner talking, but he was far too busy trying to fit the bird into his previous knowledge. 

Eventually, the man led the duo to his salon, a room where one of the walls gave home to a window that gave a perfect view on the town, the church’s top rising above the small houses as a painful reminder of his failure. Mike couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cursed building that looked like a model house from this distance. Without noticing, he leant against Norton’s scarred neck, feeling a bit relieved when the man finally sat down and the view was forcefully taken away from him only to be replaced by a wall covered by bookshelves, framing the form of a pale man who kept glancing at him. While Mike enjoyed attention, the studying gaze sent shivers down his spine and eventually he found himself huddled even closer to Norton only to get pushed away when his feathers started to warm the man’s neck. 

“Not even an offer for tea?” Norton suddenly raised his brow when he noticed that the man in front of him was getting comfortable in his chair, showing no signs of hospitality.

“I generally don’t serve tea for leeches,” the man answered. 

“Good to know that you don’t consider yourself pardoned of this rule, then.” 

Mike couldn’t help but turn his head at Norton’s words. This type of speech was something he had never heard before from him. Not even when he did his best to annoy him with his sheer presence. Calm, ice cold, yet fierce at the same time. Almost as if he was pushed into a war between two opposing parties, where there was a mutual tolerance from both sides. A temporary treaty. 

“So, Campbell, what brought you to my manor? You never arrive without a good reason,” the man started, folding his legs as he leant back, waiting for Norton’s explanation.

The man just reached for his bag, tossing a book on the small table between them. Mike did not miss the smirk on his face when he saw the reaction of the man. 

“Somehow, I am not surprised. And how much have you had in mind?”

“I was thinking about thirty pounds and in turn, I’ll give you a favorable review. Otherwise get ready for the worst book Orpheus DeRoss ever put on paper.”

“Twenty five. That’s almost three months’ worth of wage. You should be satisfied with that. After all, it is far more than what you have ever seen in your life.”

“After what you did..? Hardly.” Norton shrugged. “But I’ll take it.”

Mike kept looking to and fro between the two men. On one side, he could not believe that Norton would stoop so low to blackmail someone over the terrible works he managed to publish under Keigan’s watchful gaze, on the other side, he couldn’t imagine the man knowing the author of the book to the point he could visit him. But when he heard the two talk about money and payments he couldn’t help it anymore, his thoughts finally forced their way to the surface.

“Excuse me?! Did you just blackmail Orpheus DeRoss?!” 

He could feel Norton flinch beneath his clawed feet, his shoulders going stiff as he held his breath. Mike’s words single handedly managed to turn the balance in power into chaos. Probably if he were to stand up, he would have stumbled back into his seat.

“I think I changed my mind,” the man said at last, pushing himself away from his arm chair. “This will be the perfect time for a drink. Does your companion require anything?”

“No, he doesn’t.” came a curt reply. While he couldn’t say it out loud, the way the author’s eyes glinted when he looked at the bird bothered him more than it should have. He knew this look. The gaze of a predator finding a new toy to play with, buying into his trust with honey sweet words.

Chapter Text

The moment Orpheus's steps grew quiet enough and Norton could safely say that the author was out of sight, the man's attention was on the small bird who pulled his head between his wings, like a kid who just broke something precious. If he did not see Norton, then Norton won't see him either, right?

But he truly couldn't help it. The knowledge that a man like Norton would stoop so low shook his world. He prided himself for getting out of his old life on his own power, working hard to get that tiny and dusty hole at the edge of town yet there he was trying to bribe someone out of his money in the most spineless way possible. 

"How stupid you can be?" Norton hissed under his breath, making him flinch once more. Mike wanted to ask the same, but the words just wouldn’t come to him. “We agreed that you will keep your mouth shut and bring any more attention to yourself! I can’t believe that you revealed yourself here, out of all places! Even the pub on the corner might have been better…”

Norton leaned back in his seat, his eyes staring at the carpet as if the swirling yellow patterns could give him the answer on how to get out of the situation. Mike did not miss the way his fingers tapped against the armrest of the couch and the tightness of his chest as he refused to breath, inviting another fit of coughs in the near future.

“Don’t even try to put the blame onto me,” Mike argued back and felt relieved when Norton actually answered, finally letting out the breath he was holding. “I wasn’t the one who blackmailed someone to get more money for my shabby work.”

“He deserved it.”

“Oh…? Maybe you just have an inferiority complex and this is how you try to compensate.” the bird ruffled his feathers. “But there you are, always justifying your behavior with your past experiences as if those mattered in your current situation!”

“Don’t comment on things you don’t know about. It’s not about the money,” Norton crossed his arms as he leaned back on the couch. Was he childish? Probably. But then again he was talking with a bird.

“You asked for almost three months’ worth of wage from him. That’s almost a highway robbery,” Mike blinked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Yeah and Robin Hood would be proud of me if he knew what that bastard is up to,” Norton huffed. 

The bird groaned, shaking his body in irritation. “You are insufferable!”

“Look, just don’t say anything to that bastard. Especially not details about how you ended up in town. You already suffer from oversharing, but this is not the place where you have to.”
“Why? Tell me why, and I will reconsider,” Mike hopped closer eagerly waiting for an explanation. Something Norton was not keen on giving. He could see the emotions clashing over Norton’s head, the will to say something, but also the hesitation that repeatedly pulled him back. However, by the time the words grew strong enough that they would escape through his lips, the white painted door opened again, revealing their host who held a silver tray balancing something on it. The closer he got, the stronger was the scent of coffee that wafted through the air. Norton could see a cylinder-like object, a coffee pot Orpheus kept boasting about, but hardly ever took time to actually invite people over to show them the famous gift he got from Italy. Not like he had many people who would come out and visit him. Seeing how Orpheus probably only saw other human beings when Norton dropped by or when he was forced out of his ivory tower. 

Yet as he sat down and put the tray between them, Norton couldn’t help but wonder at how precise his movements were. The way he put the cups in front of his guests, almost suggested that he actually had a social life.

“Some coffee perhaps?” he asked, but his attention was not on Norton, but Mike who straightened his legs in excitement and kept walking in circles on the smooth surface of the table. 

“Yes, please!”

“Oi, can you even drink that?” 

“Are you seriously asking me about this?” Mike looked at him. “Of course I can. I am not some kind of nest dwelling sparrow, but the miraculous Mike Morton!”

Before Norton had a chance to argue and stop the two, the author was already pouring a few drops of coffee into the ceramic cup, forcefully pushing Norton’s concerns into the background suggesting that in this meeting he was the uninvited party.

“Can I get some milk too? And sugar?”

“I can’t see why not,” the author answered in a tone that set off alarms in Norton. But in contrast of him, Orpheus was nice and Mike seemed to enjoy the attention and being treated special, there was no way he could get his attention right now and warn him about the obvious trap they were marching towards.

Gritting his teeth, the man decided to play along, smirking at the man in front of him. 

“And I don’t get an offer for coffee?”

Orpheus looked at him, raising his brows as he stirring his own coffee.

“You are a grown man who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and I am not your maid. It is expected that you know how to pour your own coffee.”

Clicking his tongue, Norton took the coffee pot, almost dripping coffee over the expensive wooden table. (Oh, how much he wished he could do it.) Taking the chance to lessen Orpheus’s stocks he also added some milk for the sake of using it, while his attention never left the bird who already dipped his beak into the drink.

Waiting for his chance, Orpheus sat patiently even pushing the biscuits he had gotten from the pantry just for the occasion.

“My name is Orpheus DeRoss, while I’ve heard your name loud and clear, could I ask for an introduction, perhaps?” 

Norton did not miss the way the author looked at Mike, he was about to stop him, but the bird answered without hesitation.

“Mike! Mike Morton, at your service.”

“You are quite interesting. I’ve never seen a bird who could speak so fluently and I did try to teach a few.” The man raised the cup to his lips, eyes never leaving Mike as the bird proudly puffed his chest out his feathers glistening in the afternoon rays of the sun.

“You better not be thinking about putting him in a cage,” Norton blurted out, not really understanding his own thoughts or why the words suddenly flew so easily. He felt uneasy when he looked at Mike discussing things with Orpheus, but he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what bothered him about seeing the two together. 

“Not every bird belongs to a cage,” Orpheus brushed his worries aside, with a sharp glance before turning towards Mike, who eagerly kept dipping his beak into the coffee he was given. “Perhaps could you share with me how you learned this peculiar art?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I am not a bird. Actually I am quite the opposite in that sense although I can’t say more than this.”

“My, why is that, if I may ask?”  

Mike seemed to hesitate, looking at Norton almost as if he was waiting for some kind of reassurance from his side as if he cared about what Norton thought about spilling all of his secrets to a man who happened to be nice to him.

“A secret,” Mike chirped in the end, hesitantly glancing at Norton’s direction. “But if you really want to know…”

What happened next caught Norton completely off guard. Mike talked, he clearly did, and he could see the bird’s chest rise and fall as he took small breaths between the words, yet the room was completely enveloped by silence. He couldn’t even try reading from lips as the beak just opened and closed mechanically. 

Strangely enough his attention was not on the new listener, but on Norton who just shook his head, making the crest on the bird’s head flatten again. Taking a deep breath, he spoke again, he must have screamed at the top of his lungs because when he finished he was fighting to catch his breath. 

A small laughter rocked his body as he tried to regain composure.

“I am sorry, I was just fooling around!” he cleared his voice and while he might have fooled Orpheus, Norton was more keen about the small changes in tone and the forced cheerfulness. “Back when I was a small chick, a ringmaster adopted me and I picked up speech from him as we traveled across the island all year round!” 

“An interesting tale…” Orpheus hummed to himself. “I have some connections with circus workers, but I’ve never heard that any of them was able to train an avian creature. And how did fate sweep together with this man?”

He nodded towards Norton with his head, while refusing to admit his existence. 

“Him? I saw him and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him,” at the bird's voice Norton grit his teeth, quickly raising the bitter drink to his lips before Orpheus could note his reaction. At first he was surprised that Mike did not mention the whole wedding fiasco, but the deeper he went into the story, the more obvious it got that he will not bring it up. Instead, Mike had fibbed his way through the discussion, twisting reality as he pleased while grabbing Orpheus’s attention with every new event that supposedly happened to them.

In the tale he told, they were partners in business, with Norton getting the task of helping Mike return to his circus.

There were no arguments. No name calling.

The story was without conflicts almost as if Mike omitted the bad parts on purpose. 

“So, for the time being, we are stuck together,” the bird finished his talk.

“Interesting,” Orpheus hummed to himself. “Have you thought about looking for other help? I have a wide range of connections that might prove useful in your search and while I’d not like to put myself on a pedestal, my company would benefit you more than a miner’s.”

“A…” Mike was at loss for a second, not expecting the author to go with his little white lie. “Actually I like being with Norton. It’s the journey that matters, after all!” 

At his statement the man raised his brows, looking at the former miner, making a shiver run through Norton’s back. 

“Are you sure? While I do not doubt Campbell’s abilities, it would be much faster and I’d make sure that you are not lacking anything.”

“He said no thank you,” Norton found himself cutting into Orpheus’s talk. “What part of no you don’t understand?”

While the author’s attitude angered him, it took Norton some time to realize why the forceful nature strung some uncomfortable tunes hitting him. Orpheus reminded him of the senior miners who would grow jealous of their younger peers' success and would do their best to take away their findings only to be the first one who could report it to their employer. 

The moment Orpheus tried to convince Mike about leaving him, he had lost whatever little respect he still had for the man. 

“Would you rather choose to live with a man like him?”

Mike nodded.

“The known over the unknown.”

“Is it really known though?” Orpheus raised a brow, feigning surprise when Mike made his way back to Norton’s shoulder with a few swift flutter of wings. “After all, this man came into my house not only to slander me, but to take money from me through a bribe. Maybe you should visit me alone sometimes and I’ll tell you just how innocent he is.”

“I’ll think about that,” a diplomatic answer, but Norton did not miss the way Mike scurried closer to his neck until his soft wing touched Norton’s skin. It anchored him to reality better than he would have imagined, keeping him from being swallowed by the murky depths of his own thoughts. “But for now, I’d rather get the answers I need on my own. Norton might be stubborn as a mule and have the attitude of a stray dog, but one thing I know is that he never does anything without having a good reason.”

“You are not helping, I hope you know that” Norton noted when he heard the animals he was likened to.

“Shhhhhhh, let me talk.” Mike spread his right wing as if he was hitting him in the back while Orpheus gave them a wry smile.

“There is a reason why I asked you not to!” Norton hissed back.

“Accomplices already, hm?” Orpheus piped in, curiosity glistening in his cold eyes as he leaned forward and took his own cup without bothering to ruin the taste with sweetness and the mellow texture of milk. “Regarding your payment, I’d like to see what you come up with first. If the review fits my taste I am willing to pay you, otherwise I’d have to ask you to leave me be.”

“As if I would.”

“Harassment is a serious accusation and I am not afraid to make it, if push comes to shove.” The author answered casually. 

“Then you should not expect me to stay silent either. It’s eye for eye, after all.” he answered, frowning

“So whoever might throw the first rock will be pulling the other with himself. I do like those kinds of twists and the suspension might be amazing in the long run.” Finishing his coffee, Orpheus pushed himself away from his seat. “Now if you have no other news for me I’d like to request you to leave.”

Norton looked up at the man, before looking at his unfinished cup and the biscuits Mike’d chewed into. Were they being thrown out without any further notice? It seemed they were. Putting down his half-finished cup with the hope that DeRoss will accidentally drop it on the floor when he starts cleaning after them, Norton stood up, dusting his pants off as his eyes glared daggers into Orpheus.

However, the man, barely noticed his disdain as his attention was caught by the bird sitting on Norton’s shoulder.

“In the case Mr. Morton would like to come back for a talk. My door is always open.”

“Noted, noted. You might expect a visit, if you have more of that coffee,” Mike chirped happily as if he was not bothered by the author at all. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe Norton was losing his companion to a two faced— He stopped himself before his thoughts could be pulled into depths he wouldn’t be able to crawl back.

His mood was already foul.

Nodding with his head he muttered, “Then I’ll be back in a few weeks.” before he rushed past the spacious living room, feeling the eyes of the family portraits upon himself as he took a quick turn towards the front door, making sure to slam it behind himself with the force that made the entire frame shake a bit.

He could feel Mike flinch on his shoulder, but somehow he couldn’t be bothered to explain that usually this is how he left the DeRoss estate, sometimes accompanied by loud curses from both sides and more serious threats just for the sake of making the other know about their stances regarding each other.

If there was one person he hated more than himself, then it was the author. 

Soon they were back on the road that led them back from the hill. Silence accompanied the two for a good while as Mike took flight and refused to return to his shoulder. Norton sometimes found himself looking for him, hoping that the bird did not return to the mansion. Even if he had no right to tell Mike where to go, he would have done anything to prohibit him from another visit. Anything just to keep them away… 

He furrowed his brows as he felt something unknown claw at his chest. A tingling, alien feeling that struck him with a sense of insecurity and awkwardness. They were not even friends. Then why did he feel like a man who is forced to watch his partner get tempted away by a better version of him? 

The deeper he got into the thoughts, the murkier the abyss grew beneath his feet, pulling him beneath. 

Suddenly he felt a strong yank on his hair, returning to reality. 

“Earth to Norton!”

Mike was back on his shoulder, those blue eyes looking at him with worry. 

“What?”

“You should rest for a while. There is a drinking well up ahead.”

“I don’t need it.” he scoffed only to have his hair pulled again.

“You are pale and the weather is warm even for me. At least, drink if you don’t want to stop. I mean, who am I to tell you what to do? Maybe I truly should heed DeRoss’s words and return for a small chat… At least, he gave me food and drink unlike someone who even threw it out the moment I finally had something nice in years.”

“Fine! We will stop. Just stop talking.” he heard himself say, probably with more strength than he originally intended to. Was he that obvious?

“In general or about Orpheus?” the bird sat on top of the drinking well, eyes twinkling with mischief, but all he could get was an angry groan as Norton lifted the handle, before pushing back with force, repeating the motions as he watched the bird rise and fall on the other side of the small see-saw as the water started flowing from the drinking well.

As the cool water hit his palm and he raised it to his lips, Mike kept chattering in the background, seemingly being pleased with himself that after several days he finally found some grip on the man.

“You don’t understand anything,” he said, when he finally found his voice again. He halfheartedly expected Mike to laugh at him, make fun of his misery, but the bird just sat in silence, looking at him as if he saw through his pain.

“Then make me understand,” he answered, previous playfulness almost completely gone and replaced by a solemn tone. 

Opening his mouth, Norton wanted to answer him. He truly did.

There were so many pent up feelings that kept piling up in his heart ever since he settled down in this town, yet talking about them also meant showing weakness and admitting all of his past faults and wrongdoings.

He would rather have Mike live with the belief that he was an aspiring but terrible poet, rather than to admit that he had blood on his hands.

Chapter Text

Norton was treading forward in the pitch-black darkness not really knowing where he started or what was waiting for him at the end of the road. The only set point in his world was the damp wall that slowly soaked into his gloves the more he kept holding onto it. As he tumbled forward, small rocks rolled beneath his feet almost making him lose balance several times, the wet fabric making it impossible to get a better grip. Eventually he fell against the sturdy wall, scraping the skin on his arm and leaving a burning sensation behind, forcing him to throw the gloves away.

Not really understanding how he got into this situation, he was soon seized by an uncanny feeling and the further he walked, the bigger his despair became. Soon a painful whistling sound escaped his throat as he did his best to keep calm in his situation, trying to hold back the uncontrollable shaking that spread through his entire body. Almost as if he was not himself anymore. Just a shell that could break at the next injury…

His skin ached and burned, he couldn’t breathe properly since whenever he tried it felt almost as if his lungs were to burst from overexertion while the air never quite reached him. 

Desperately longing for the light, he tried to climb upward with the hope that he could find another layer above himself, but his palms were slick with sweat and eventually he not only fell back but felt the coarse powder stick to his skin, dirtying his face. 

It was like sitting in an oven. The heat was getting unbearable and he couldn’t swallow the mucus that awkwardly sat at the back of his throat. 

If only there was some light, he would be faring better, but the darkness and the lack of air made it impossible to determine if he was stuck in a cavern or actually headed somewhere.

Suddenly, he realized how much he missed the townscape, he missed the fresh air that always danced through his home, taking away the musty smell of rotten wood and old furniture. Deep down he wished that Mike’s voice would cut through the nothingness, leading him back home, but it did not happen. His pleas were only answered by deafening silence and the deep rumble coming from the ground beneath his feet, signaling that the ground he was standing on could collapse beneath his weight at any given moment. 

Desperate for air, he eventually gave up on finding a way out and started digging with his own two hands. Wincing when he felt something rapidly crawling along his skin the moment he managed to break through the first layer. Suddenly, something bit into him, he could feel his skin burning as the pain spread, but he did not care, he just wanted to be out of this pitch black hell.

As he hastened his movements, small pieces of earth fell to the ground, rolling against his shoes. Then another followed, and another, gathering around him in a pile until they reached his knees. Yet, Norton did not step away, instead he kept working his way through the thick earth wall, tearing out rocks to weaken its structure. 

This was his only chance to escape and he couldn’t care less about anything else.

However, he was forced to halt when he felt hot air coming from the wall he was trying to break through. But he kept on digging and when he saw a source of light, his hands moved faster, more vigorously, until he heard a rumble and the wall collapsed.

His eyes widened as his surroundings changed and light tore its way into his chamber bringing the stench of decay along. It stuck to his nostrils and tongue and even after he pressed a hand over his mouth, Norton could taste the stench of death. A strangled cry made its way out of him as the heat grew unbearable, almost as if flames were licking against his skin, creating something hideous in the process. He was burning alive, his skin was melting yet a bird just would not stop singing on the other side of the room, inviting him closer to certain death.

He had to get out. 

Get away.

Disappear.

He sat up on his bed with labored breathing, tearing off the nightshirt that stuck awkwardly to his body after the nightmare. It was not the reason why he felt the burning sensation, but in that moment its loss somewhat managed to ease his stress when the evening air hit his skin and he pushed the hair that stuck awkwardly against his forehead away from his eyes. Breathing shallowly through his twitching throat, he touched the scarred tissue on his face, his expression distorting when he realized just how real it was. It was not just a dream, no matter how he wanted to sweep his past under a rug.

Looking at his night desk he wondered how Mike slept through his previous turmoil, partly hoping that he woke up alongside him and would provide some distraction. Yet, the bird’s back rose slowly and his head remained tucked behind his wings even after Norton moved out of the protection of his duvet, bed creaking miserably in the silence of the room as his bare feet hit the parquet.

His legs still shook after the dream and the floor was swaying like a sinking ship as he desperately tried to make his way to the kitchen, hoping that a change in scenery might calm his racing heart. Technically falling onto the wooden chair, he reached for the window and tore it open, sighing when the cool evening breeze finally hit his face and swept past the room. 

Now, that his mind finally managed to find something to hang onto and stay within the barriers of reality. Pushing his hair back in order to keep it from falling into his eyes, he looked at the small inner garden, listening to the subtle noises of morning. 

The house is still asleep and the doors remain closed, the hour to go to the market remaining far away. Yet he couldn’t help but notice the murmurs that make their way into the secluded space and how birds start their morning songs almost as if at first they were just gently nagging the sun to rise higher, waiting for the first rays of light to hit the rooftops, doves cooing on the top of the chimney, before the blackbirds finally joined in. 

Counting the various birdsongs that echoed within the walls of the inner court helped and the memories that suddenly rose to the surface were once again covered by a thin veil allowing Norton to look at it from the safety of his own cowardice quickly pulling a glass over his emotions to contain them. 

If there was one thing Orpheus was right about, it’s that Mike would probably be better off without him. He had already betrayed everyone who was ever nice to him and who knows when he will accidentally cause harm to the bird. The thought was strange and unexplainable, but it did not take him long to realize that it stemmed from the hatred he felt for his very being and it’s been years since he decided that no matter what happens, he was not allowed to be happy.

That’s what he kept saying to himself every time he felt the feeling creep closer to him and that’s why he fought tooth and nail to push everyone away. He did not deserve the company of someone else, even if that creature was a bird. 

Tears pooled in his eyes as the weight of his past and present crashed over his head, pushing Norton deeper into the abyss he had managed to waltz into.

In the morning cacophony, he shuddered as if he had been splashed with cold water when something glided out of his bedroom and landed in front of him with an ungrateful hop almost falling forward from the momentum, but catching his bodyweight with a flap of his wing just before he could make a clown of himself. Mike was still half feet in the dream realm as for a good second he just looked at Norton with an empty gaze, before letting out a yawn.

“Why are you up so early?” Mike blinked slowly, but he did not comment on the tears that Norton quickly brushed away from his face. At least one less question to answer.

The hand of the clock that hung on the wall in silence was indeed closer to four than he originally thought. 

Norton couldn’t really come up with a plausible explanation so he just rested his chin on his elbowed hands, huffing lightly as he muttered in a broken whisper, “I could not sleep.”

“And this is why you are sitting here half-naked instead? You should have just gone back to bed, stare at the ceiling like normal people do,” he yawned again. “Or maybe you are just excited about a day off, hm?”

“Not sure if you have noticed, but I can’t afford day offs.”

“You can, you just don’t want to because you are a workaholic,” Mike countered and Norton was sure that the bird was laughing at him on the inside. “You are never going to write your own poems if you never give yourself time to rest and collect your thoughts. I hope you know that.”

“What do you even know about poetry? Yesterday, you were a circus bird,” Norton looked at him, his brows raising slightly, but he couldn’t hide the smirk that crept on his face.

“More than you, that is for sure! Don’t look down on me just because I was working with a circus! I actually learned a lot more than just an act or two.”

“Then tell me a poem, if you are so sure about your art,” Norton teased, knowing it well that this will probably cut back on Mike’s confidence, except the bird just puffed out his feathery chest and nodded with confidence. For a few seconds he looked around the kitchen, almost as if he was looking for inspiration, before his eyes landed on the window and the other side of the walkway. The sun was still nowhere to be seen, but its distant rays already provided light to the residents.

“Earth has not anything to show more fair, dull would he be of soul who could pass by… A sight so touching in its majesty. This City now doth, like a garment, wear the beauty of the morning…” he stopped looking at Norton again. “You wanted a poem so you got one. It was written by Wordsworth when he was admiring the morning in London and if you feel floored maybe we should follow his example. Or not. Our circus used his poem to attract people to our shows held at noon, so it’s only a thought I made up.”

“I am not going to write a poem about the morning,” Norton frowned, missing the point.

“Taking a walk and gathering inspiration is far better than sitting here and wallowing in self-pity. And…” he hopped closer, looking around as if he was about to tell a secret. “It’s not like you bought any bread yesterday. Might as well get a loaf from the morning batch if you are going to be crazy rich soon.”

“I am not going to be rich,” Norton argued, but he couldn’t come up with an explanation as to why he couldn’t just leave his home earlier than usual. There was nothing that would have acted as a barrier and Mike was right about his dwindling food supplies. All he had on him was a few jars of jam and some fruit preserves. Definitely not things that could be eaten in themselves unless he felt utterly miserable. 

Maybe eating well once instead of pushing his money into his duvet would not be a bad idea.

**

The streets were so silent that when the giant door closed behind him with a soft click, Norton felt like he ruined the serenity of the morning with his presence, bringing alien noises into the symphony sung by the chorus of birds settled on the rooftops and tree branches. In the distance, he could hear dogs barking, and sometimes the faltering sound of hooves echoed in the air as they went on their morning route delivering orders throughout town before the residents would leave their houses.

In the morning every noise had its purpose and belonged to something greater, Norton thought to himself as he walked watching the rays of the sun slowly lighting up the road next to him. He knew he never belonged here the moment he left the station with his luggage, but the feeling never quite got to him until he was alone with his own silence. Feeling small, as the shadows of his past grew stronger, reminding him every day of the foolish mistakes he had made in the heat of a selfish moment.

Suddenly, he felt a pull on his left side, someone yanking on his hair with force that almost made them separate from his skin.

“Would you stop it?” he scoffed, but Mike just pulled on his hair again, making the man wince.

“I’ve been talking to you ever since we left the building.”

“I am sure you did not,” Norton frowned.

“No, I did. You even kept nodding when I said that I invited Tom Tildrum over for lunch.”

“Certainly not,” Norton muttered as he took a turn to the left when he arrived at a clock store. Mike was right about him not hearing a single word of what was said because his mind was everywhere but there, but he did not need to admit that. “Tom Tildrum, the king of cats, would eat you for breakfast and I would not be opposed to that incident.”

This earned him a peck and a string of curses, “And there I was being worried about you” Mike slapped him with a wing. “Insufferable, ass!”

“Nobody is forcing you to stay with me.”

“Just your sheer incapability of taking care of yourself,” Mike huffed, seemingly being proud when he felt Norton’s shoulders became tense under his feet. Good. 

“Yes, do kick a man when he is already on the ground. I was about to ask you,” Norton growled, but he couldn't argue with the bird. 

“My kicks won’t hurt you, anyway. See?” he chirped, gently kicking the man’s neck earning a long, suffering sigh from him.

Reaching the bakery, the place that was usually just a few steps away, felt like an eternity. Almost as if the roads had suddenly grown longer and refused to let him reach the corner of the street. Eventually, Norton had to stop to look at his wristwatch only to see that time flew in its regular course with no distortions.

It was exhaustion, he told himself in the end as he started walking again, steps echoing in the empty street. The only indicator that he was going somewhere was the sweet scent that lingered in the air and became stronger until he could taste the sugar on his tongue. The sweet pastries he never quite grew to like because they were far too sweet for someone who grew up without getting much sugar in his life.

However, what made him halt his steps was not the intensive scent, but the people lining up in front of him, waiting to fit into the small shop that could contain three people at a time. The line was short, but once he realized who stood in front of him with a woven basket in her hand, Norton could feel his blood freeze.

“Hey, isn’t that your boss?” Mike whispered into his ear, quietly only Norton could hear him, but without noticing he brought clarification regarding the identity of the woman. 

Keigan Nicholas Keogh brought bread just like any normal person living in town and she did not only exist within the four walls of the publishing house to occasionally make jabs towards the people under her care. Yet, her presence felt unnatural and he had a hard time connecting the person wearing greys to the colorful backdrop.

“You should say hi to her,” Mike suggested quietly, sending shivers down his spine.

"I'd like to keep the distance, thank you," the man hissed back. “She is my boss and not a friend.”

“Yeah, you have none or so I've noticed.”

Norton knew, it was all about building a web of connections. Something that would allow him safe passage between different fields and open up new routes and serve as a safety net every time he tried to jump further than he was physically allowed to. However, he also saw how easily these hard earned connections could flare up and turn into ashes, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. Even if Mike wanted to push him into another web, he kept talking himself out of it. 

Norton did not feel like he deserved any sort of net beneath himself.

Suddenly, he felt a breeze against his neck and the sound of feathers rustling against the morning air brought him back to reality. Before he had a chance to speak out the blue bird was already gliding over the line of people, before gently landing on Keigan’s shoulder attracting the woman’s attention and making her turn in surprise. Despite all of Norton’s attempt to hide behind the stooping, old man, their eyes met when Mike pushed himself away from the woman’s shoulder flying back to his usual perch. 

Keigan did not say a word, just gave a long look at Norton before nodding as to greet him before she turned back and stepped into the small store and her form disappeared in the sweet scent of sugar and fresh bread.

Norton was about to hiss at Mike to scold him for being immature when she emerged from the warm darkness of the store, her bag containing several objects wrapped in paper that were absent until now.

He thought he could avoid the meeting, but the woman was coming his way, her gaze retained her usual rigor as he looked at him and the bird that suddenly decided to start acting like one and kept turning his head in question before he tiptoed sideways on his shoulder, chirping whenever he felt Keigan’s attention was on him. 

“Mr. Campbell, how pleasant it is to see you out so early.” 

“Likewise, Ms. Keogh,” Norton nodded, barely moving his head. He was expecting her to mention something about work, maybe give him a good old critic that was missed the last time he was standing on the edge of the carpet, but instead the woman just smiled, her attention completely mesmerized by the bird on his shoulder.

“I did not knew that you have a soft spot for birds. May I ask for its name?”

“M-Mike,” he said, surprised about the topic of choice, but keeping his defenses up.

“A rather simple name for a unique bird like this… and so well behaved too. Aren’t you worried about him flying away?”

The line was going too slow and in front of him he could see an old lady joining her friend and raising the number of people in front of him from four to five without anyone commenting on the little trick they had witnessed.  

“Sometimes, I wish he would, but alas I am just stuck with the little fiend.” he grit his teeth and tried to force a sociable smile to his lips. 

“If that is the case then I can recommend an ornithologist—”

“There is no need for that, thank you.”

Seemingly taken aback by the quick response, the woman settled her gaze on Norton. Her expression suggested that she had some comment on the tip of her tongue, but she chose not to share it with her employee. 

Truth to be told, Norton expected the worst from her. Words that might cut deep and push him further away from his goals to reach an easy life by putting words next to each other. Yet, when Keigan finally found her words, she managed to catch him off guard.

“Mr. Campbell, perhaps would you like to join me for coffee today? It quite rare for us to meet outside of work, and I’d like to get to know my own employees better,” she paused, her voice not even wearing as she prompted her suggestion. “Ms. Dorval recommended a place near the market.”

Norton felt the nook slowly but surely get tighter around his neck as the woman successfully cut away his chances to escape. If he directly says no, it might hinder his progress as the company, if he says yes, he might ruin things by showing how unpleasant he is, ruining what little reputation he had.

Next to him he could feel Mike pulling on his hair leading his gaze towards the woman in front of him, but Norton hesitated. It seemed that the only time he could properly voice his thoughts was the time when nobody else could hear him.

He would have loved to finally have caffeine in his body that would help him get through the morning after barely sleeping a wink, but not at this cost.

“It’s truly a generous offer, but I have to decline it for today,” he nodded lightly. Immediately a soft eh sound broke the silence. Mike was about to say something despite their agreement, but held back his words.

“Well, maybe some other time then," she nodded, but Norton did not miss the small sigh of relief and the way her shoulder dropped. She was about to leave the two when she suddenly turned around, looking straight at Norton. “Oh, and before I forget! Just one more thing… Mr. Campbell, alas our last meeting was cut short, but allow me to congratulate you on the reviews once more. I am eagerly waiting for your next work.”

Norton could only nod awkwardly, not really knowing how to react to the words that were not criticizing him for once. Eventually what saved him was the line disappearing in front of him, opening up the road to the bakery once the old man who stood in front of them up until now finally left, cradling a loaf of bread in her arms. 

Chapter Text

Instead of immediately going home after he got what Mike wanted Norton found himself in the small park that served as his day to day passage to work. Maybe stopping there for once would not hurt, he wondered to himself as he walked through the small garden and found himself gazing at the honeysuckle bushes. He has never noticed that the annoying, sweet scent that invaded his home had been coming from them, but now that he had located the culprits, he tried to get away from them, taking a swift turn to the opposite direction. 

“I see a perfectly suitable place over there,” Mike voiced his thoughts, before flying to the direction of a black bench, hopping on its backrest to get Norton’s attention. The place was protected from the heat of late spring by the fresh leaves of an oak that reached down with its branch, allowing the local kids to hang a colourful wooden bird feeder on it. Soon, Norton found himself sitting under it, surrounded by a colourful blue lobelia field as every pore in his body begged him to leave and return to the dark burrow, protected by colourless brick walls. He was not used to sitting outside, in a place where everyone could take a glance at him and all Norton could do was to hold onto the two paper bags that he carried all the way from the market. 

“We should drop these off,” he muttered languidly.

“Oh no! No, no, no. If I let you go back home, you will never leave through your front door until it is absolutely necessary, so nope. We are staying right here in this spot.” Mike screeched. “You already look like a tired radish, some fresh air won’t hurt.” 

“Since when do you care so much about my well-being,” Norton raised a brow, but he soon found himself sitting next to the bird, resting his back against the painted boards. He was not hungry, but he found himself rummaging through the smaller bag to get one of the sweet buns he was technically forced to buy because Mike would not stop pecking the glass.

“Me too. I ask myself this all the time. I guess, it comes naturally,” if the bird could shrug, Norton was sure that he would be raising his shoulders. “Maybe it's because you remind me of someone... He was just as bad at taking care of himself, although now that I think back on it, he was nowhere near as bad as you. It might be an instinct that told me to help you despite the fact that you messed up my lifelong plans.”

“Your lifelong plan was to marry the first person who stumbled into the forest?” Norton raised his brows in question as he tore a small piece from the corner of the snail shaped chelsea bun and gave it to the bird, waiting until he felt that the tiny foot grabbed onto the soft pastry. “Quite thoughtful.”

“And you would not be bothered on a daily basis if you did not mess up the only task I asked of you,” Mike countered. “You brought me upon yourself!” he nodded, before fluttering down to the poet’s arm to be closer to his food. “I want more!”

“Birds can’t eat bread.”

“I am not a bird so I can.”

“There is a birdfeeder behind us. Serve yourself from there,” Norton stated, trying to keep his food away from the prying bird.

“Nortoooon!” Mike whined impatiently at him, his voice echoing in the empty park. While it was not the way he loved to solve his problems, the fear of sudden attention granted him a bigger piece while Norton hesitantly kept looking around, waiting for someone like Keigan to appear from the wall of bushes. 

“One day you will kick the dust from eating my food, and I won’t even feel sorry for you.”

“If I do that, you will follow me soon, because that would mean the food was poisoned,” the bird noted, his voice tingling with a hint of irony while he stuffed his face with the cinnamon covered bun. “And I know that you would miss me. You love me, you just don’t know it yet!”

“I am pretty sure I would be aware of that,” Norton rested his back against the bench, his gaze settling on the leaves that shivered gently from the morning breeze. The sleepless night still nestled heavily on his mind, his limbs still aching from tossing and turning around in his bed. If he closed his eyes he could’ve fallen asleep on the spot.

However, he did not allow himself the luxury and after taking a deep breath he forced his eyes open.

“You should have accepted Mrs. Keogh’s invitation.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, I won’t shut up, because you just threw away a chance to get free coffee and to finally talk with your boss about something that is not related to work. Why do you keep pushing people away when they just want to get to know you?” The question sent a pang of anger through his heart, but he did not lash out, instead Norton just grit his teeth, pushing his back harder into the backrest of the bench.

How would a dumb bird know anything about what he had to endure ever since he was born? For him every problem had a solution and nobody seemed to have any sort of ulterior motives to keep an unwanted person around. How could someone like him claim that he was human? He lacked the darkness that made up most of the human population and each time he tried to guide him, Norton felt blinded by light. 

“She would just ask questions,” he averted his gaze, staring intently at the canopy of blue flowers on the other side of the small path. 

“And is that a bad thing?” he asked in a calm tone. 

“...”

“Then let me answer, if someone wants to know you better, then it is not. And before you say that she might use you as a stepping ladder for her career, Keigan is your boss, she would gain nothing from knowing what you like or what you do in your free time. She might even help you if she knew about your circumstances!”

This made Norton turn his head. The anger that washed over him came forward like a summer storm, however he did not raise his voice. It remained as quiet as it was, but each word was filled with venom he had been nurturing for years.

“If she wants to help, then it means she wants something in return. Why can’t you just understand that nobody in this world does nice things just because. They all have a different goal in mind, when they do!”

However, no matter how hard Norton tried to bite, his bitterness did not reach Mike, who just sat on the headrest, staring at him with eyes that sparkled each time the wind rustled the leaves above them.

“Do they? Do you really think like that?” Norton did not move, but felt the urge to nod. “I have stayed with you on my own accord, despite the fact that I no longer have anything to gain from this. I cannot do anything in this form, I am forever stuck in this fragile body that can break from a single hit. Break a bone and I am as good as dead, simply because my only chance for freedom was ruined! What can I gain from sticking around and helping you?”

“Don’t make this about yourself,” Norton warned the bird, but Mike just brushed it off.

“No. I am making this about myself, because the evidence that not everything has to serve a goal is right in front of you, but you would rather lick your wounds stuck in that mold-scented burrow, than to step outside of your comfort zone.”

“It does not smell like that,” Norton argued, but he felt cornered by the rest of Mike’s statements. Even if it was hard to see from the inside, he had surrounded himself with walls, even pushing off people who tried to get closer to him only allowing access to an avian creature simply because he was not able to lock him out.

He brought life to the house that was locked away from the outside world for far too long, but without noticing he revealed past scars that were never given enough time to heal.

“Norton, I want to help you. I genuinely want to help you. And do you know why? Because if I can’t have what I want, then I want you to be happy at least.”

“Why me?”

“First come first serve rule. Don’t think you are that special,” Mike laughed, before he was struck by an idea. “But maybe today I’ll let you go on alone.”

“And for what reason do I get this gift?” He was rewarded with a bite in his ears.

“I am a busy bird and I have things to do.” he announced proudly, spreading his wings to hop on Norton’s knees with a single flap of his wings. “But more importantly, I am about to entrust you with a task. You either have to write a finished poem or you can go out and meet a person then tell me about your experience.”

“Poem it is.” Norton mumbled under his breath as if the bird had any power over what he did. 

He somehow did, but Mike did not had to know this…

“Or meeting a person,” the bird added again, fluttering to the rim of Norton’s hat just to hang from it upside down. “If you can’t feel the verses coming, then go out and gather some experiences to shake those feelings up. Trust me, I know my art.”

“And what happens if I don’t do what you ask?”

“I’ll bite your nose in your sleep!”

Norton did not answer him, but frowned.

“Can I at least take this bread home or do you expect me to walk around with it in my hands?”

Mike’s beak remained in the same wide, swallow-like grin, but Norton could see that his eyes lit up, possibly as he imagined the scene that was presented to him.

“Maybe. But you have to admit it would be a great conversation starter. They would ask you about the bread in your arm and you could say anything to keep them entertained.”

“Hah, very funny. Weren’t you going somewhere?”

“Oh yes, yes, bird business. But before that…” with swift movements, he hopped back to Norton’s shoulder, pushing his beak against his left cheek. Compared to his usual forceful actions, this one was gentle, almost affectionate, before he yanked on a lone black hair. “Take care of yourself while I am not around.”

It was clearly a form of manipulation, Norton noted when the bird’s blue form grew smaller until he disappeared completely behind the green leaves. There was no way that he could just go home and stay there now that the only creature keeping him company put some faith into him. It was a strange and alien feeling, and for a second he wondered if this was the same strategy parents used against their kids when they were not around.

Regardless, it worked because not even twenty minutes later he found himself standing on the street without his trusty bread.

***

Without Mike on his shoulder he felt too light, like he was missing something, and the feeling kept following him around like a sad companion preventing Norton from progressing with the day as he repeatedly had to stop and wonder what would the tiny bird say or do in the situation.

It was truly maddening, but that’s where his life ended up. His heart clutched onto the first thing that provided company and now it refused to revert back to its original, jaded being.

The sun warmed his back as he stood puzzled on the walkway, idly switching the weight that he’d put on his legs. It's been a while since he felt like this, and he felt like a newbie miner who is waiting for a bal maiden to finally ask what he was doing in their workspace when he should have been riding the elevator with his peers. However, he was an adult and nobody would tell him what to do or where to go, especially not on his day off. 

Massaging the bridge of his nose in confusion, he eventually decided to start walking, hoping that a verse will cross his mind and he will at least have a poem to show by the time the annoying bird returns. 

The sudden silence was weird at first, but he gradually managed to divert his attention, by focusing on everything else in his surroundings. Noticing small details about people as they went on their daily routines, somehow helped. However, it did not push him forward to interact with people or to write a poem. Someone like Baudelaire might find success in that, but Norton simply lacked the way to properly paint the feeling of the sun against his back and the thoughts and ideas the sea of people conveyed to him.

He saw them as simple humans, not the walking phenomenon of ars poetica who would made him pull out his brown notebook to scribble down verse after verse in a heated frenzy.

The old woman who carried a woven basket, the two workers who kept joking as if nobody else could hear their loud hollers, the little girl who kept pulling on her mother’s dress to demand sweets; they were all people who couldn’t spark any sort of idea in his mind.

Shoulder’s slumping, Norton eventually walked forward, still missing the words that would be addressed to him if Mike was around. It seemed that a short amount of time was enough until his world started losing the vivid colours that appeared in it barely a week ago. No amount of positive thinking will keep them around if there is nobody to inspire actual positive thoughts in him.

Feeling his stomach drop at this realisation, he looked around, hoping that he might see the bird perched on a windowsill, laughing at his incompetence at finishing an easy task like that. 

He was so focused on looking at the visible places that his attention completely skimmed over the small pot of geraniums. They were used as decorations in the window of a store, hiding a small creature under the pink bouquet like flowers. The feathers on his back were ruffled, and if someone were to stop, they could easily count them and see that beneath his brilliant blue, the small fluffs were all coloured in a soft white gradient. 

Truth to be told, ever since he said goodbye, Mike Morton followed him like a loyal shadow.

He truly intended to leave Norton behind for the day to take care of matters that were impossible to accomplish in his presence, but just before he could leave a strange sense of curiosity kicked in, forcing him back to ground and straight to hiding. 

He knew Norton was capable of the tasks he had left him with, but he had to wonder if he would actually try to do something to accomplish them. 

So far, the man had walked aimlessly, not really knowing what to do or where to go. It annoyed Mike, but he swallowed his words back and watched him in silence, occasionally switching hiding spots when Norton’s form became too distant. Each time he hoped that the next will be the last and he will either see him sit down to create or talk with someone.

Norton just looked around as if he needed an answer from someone. A guidance on what to do or where to go. And Mike would be lying if he said that his heart did not squeeze a bit when he realised why the poet kept acting so strange without his weight on his shoulders.

He was missed.

His absence even caused a strange disharmony in Norton!

If he could, he would probably cry a little at the thought, however in this body all he could do was to endure his feelings slowly tearing him apart from the inside, his stomach churning when he realised how deep the chasm that separated them was in their current forms.

If only he could slide his hands against Norton’s, leading him around with his body actually having an impact on his surroundings. Norton would probably complain, but he would eventually accept his fate and just follow him with mild complaining.

Shaking his entire body to get rid of his thoughts, his attention was soon back on the man clad in green.

“That train had already left the station for good,” he muttered to himself bitterly, feeling his heart drop. Longing for something he could never achieve was just a waste of time… 

In the next moment, the poet did an unexpected turn and he started walking almost as if he was led by a sudden idea. Scrambling to get on his feet Mike quickly sprung from his hiding spot and started following him, flying close to the rooftops in case he would have to avoid a curious gaze. His long tail feathers kept curling like small flags behind him as his shadow swept over the red tiles, elegantly glided from chimney to chimney.

Norton was anything but fast when it came to walking, taking his sweet time to look around as he went, so Mike would occasionally take a small rest and let him gain distance.

His final stop seemed to be in front of a small store that was situated right below the arcades of an old building that was darkened by sooth over the years. Norton stood there, looking at the colourful wooden toys and picture books that decorated the small display. Puppets invited people inside as a yellow wooden bird hung above the door to invite in the guest who wandered near the door. Even from his spot on the roof, Mike could see that the decoration was cleaned on a daily basis, not even a single spot of dust could be seen on its top.

There was no way the poet would visit a store like this, right?

He cocked his head to the side, squinting with visible confusion. 

His curiosity almost got the best of him, urging him to quickly return to Norton just to see the inside of the store, however he quickly shook the thoughts out of his head. If he appeared now, the goal of his actions would be for nothing.

Besides, he had a place to visit. Might as well use his time away wisely instead of tailing the man all day! Nodding to himself, he took one last glance at Norton before turning around and taking flight. 

***

Truth to be told, Norton had little to no idea on how he eventually ended up in front of a toy store. The more he walked the more aimless he grew, and by the time his thoughts finally cleared up, his attention was mesmerised by the yellow, stork-like bird that hung proudly above the door, the painting on its wings reflecting back the spring sun. 

Behind the glass window, someone arranged a colourful scene reminding Norton of early summer. Air balloons were hung, their bags made of colourful fabrics, some even donning a small embroidery pattern with flowers and butterflies. Eventually he found himself standing right in front of the display window, his eyes following the small scene with the painted rivers and more wooden toys. It was a simple arrangement, yet turned out to be effective because he repeatedly found newer things to look at, until he stopped at the brown doll house in the left corner of the small gallery, right next to the model ships. While he considered himself to be an adult, way above the target demographic for toys, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the furnitures that were arranged, so the small room mimicked something out of reality. Upon closer look, even the small fabric curtains had their ends sewn, and the painting work in the entire room was worthy of admiration. He could say this, even without knowing much about the process of toy making. 

His legs seemed to move on their own after a sudden idea, arms hesitantly opening the green door. The bell above rang with a cheerful song, announcing the arrival of a customer. Norton almost took a step back when he noticed that he became the centre of attention, but eventually took a step forward and a much softer ring echoed in the small space.

As a kid, he never had a chance to step into the stores his peers adored so much. His father could barely provide food for the two of them and he would have felt bad if he asked for anything that was not a bare necessity. No wonder that even as an adult, he was mesmerised by the colourful shelves and the different puppets sitting next to each other with a mischievous smile on their painted faces. Below them, a similar row, yet much smaller army waited for their new owner. 

However, they couldn’t hold the poet’s attention for too long as he was already marching towards the dollhouse that stood proudly and occupied an entire table by itself.

“Ahoj! Can I help you with something?” he heard a voice coming from behind him. It seemed that without Norton noticing the clerk appeared from the depths of the store, cradling the puppet of a prince in her arms. Her blonde hair was tied into two braids and she wore a set of white and red clothing that seemed to belong to an eastern European nation. Her blue eyes never left Norton as she walked to the wall of puppets and seated the prince next to a chimney sweeper. 

“...” Taken aback by the sudden interaction, Norton could only stare in silence.

“Is there anything specific you have in mind?” the woman asked again, her accent creating a steady rhythm that went against the known rules of English. Her blue eyes searched Norton for clues, before she noticed his closeness to the dollhouse, “Perhaps are you looking for a gift for a daughter?”

“I don’t have a daughter,” Norton found himself saying almost immediately. He thought this might disarm the woman, but all he did was to spark even more curiosity in those eyes.

“Ah, excuse me, I shouldn’t be nosy. But it’s so rare that I get a customer like you. I could not help wondering!” the woman went on despite the apology. “Most of my customers visit for gifts for their families, you see!”

“And what makes you believe that I am not?”

The woman just gave him a knowing smile.

“Hmmm… You see, when you work a lot in a store, you learn a thing or two about the customers and you just said that you have no daughter. So, what can I help you with? My job is not to judge but to sell so be it any kind of crazy idea. As long as it’s about something you can find here, I might be able to find a solution.” she smiled, but despite her helpfulness Norton felt like running away. The only thing stopping him was his pride. 

Stating that he was looking for furniture for a bird was hard, especially because he was still at the stage where he couldn’t believe his own thoughts. It was not like him to rush into things let alone do it for others!

“Is it for a friend, perhaps?” the blond woman tried to figure things out in her own way.

“Highly debatable if I would call him my friend.”

“Yet you are here,” she chuckled. “Some friendships are like that, you know. You think you can’t stand them, yet you often find yourself wondering what they are up to.”

Would it be too late to state that said friend was an avian creature? 

Eventually he decided that Mike from now on is not someone who is a bird, but someone who happens to have a terribly loud pet. 

“He has a pet bird that keeps sleeping on the bottom of the cage, then I saw that this store sells doll beds…” he stopped, but when their eyes met he could see that the clerk was patiently waiting for him to finish the sentence he started. Something told him she knew there was no friend in the picture. “I was wondering if they would fit the size of a bird.”

“While it would be easier if we had the pet here,” she mused before she walked over to the dollhouse and pulled out a drawer that was built into the display shelf. From it, she kept stacking small beds she could find, all with their own set of duvets. When she had every size and colour in her arms, she gently pushed the drawer back with her foot. As she returned to her side of the counter she was already lining up furnitures in front of Norton.

Some were brown with red and yellow flowers painted on their sides, while a few were just painted to one simple colour and the patterns were simpler.

“How big is the bird, if I may ask?” she asked, her eyes glinting with excitement.

“Like my fist,” he tried to come up with some sort of measurement. If the bed was bigger, there would be no harm done, right? But then again, why is he buying a bed in the first place? 

He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as the woman put the smaller beds aside. He was really close to back out from the store and never return, but once again, his pride stopped him. 

Norton did not even notice he was holding his breath, until a fit of coughs did not burst out from his lungs. Turning away he buried his face into the sleeves of his coat. He did not even notice when the woman disappeared in the room behind the counter and returned with a glass of water. He did not want to accept the gesture, but the worried glances he got eventually forced him to take it.

“I am fine,” he said in a broken voice, but his mind was already planning to escape. “I’d like the brown one.”

“It comes with a set of duvet,” she said before she added it proudly, “All hand sewn by me! Please pick one!” 

“Do I have to? It’s for a bird, after all.”

“It's part of a set, so yes.” she started lining up various colourful fabrics, all seemingly filled with a thin layer and something, while the small pillows were perfect replicas of what one could see in a bedroom. His eyes eventually fell on a diamond patterned fabric and he silently slid it towards the woman.

“Is this all?” she asked, almost as cheerfully when he first entered the store. Norton could only nod and as if on cue with fluttering steps she started putting together the small package by placing the duvet in the bed and using a string to keep it there for the time of transportation.

Money exchanged owners, and Norton quickly pocketed the small furniture making his final escape towards the entrance of the store. The woman kept waving after him, although Norton refused to look back, his eyes only saw the street outside. However the last sentence he heard made his stomach drop as heat spring to his cheeks.

“Sir, if you happen to need more furniture, you should bring your bird too.”

He chose not to react to it, and with hastened steps he closed the door behind him vowing to never return. 

Chapter Text

Mike would be lying if he said that leaving Norton behind did not immediately start ringing the alarm bells in his mind. Actually, they repeatedly screamed at him to turn back and return to the man just to see what he will do alone and interfere if he needs some help. However, the greatest thing about the ability of flying was that he could just stop moving his wings and glide through the air, setting his gaze on his final goal as he turned his mind off for a little while. With this trick, he wouldn’t risk a last minute turn because by the time he needed to flap his wings again to stay in the air, he would be too far away from his spot of departure. The more he flew the sparser the houses became. Eventually, their sizes started to dwindle and the gardens belonging to them grew, bringing colours into the greenery.

Soon he flew over the small creek where he collected flowers. It was the first time Norton decided to share more than a small piece of information about himself and one of the first times Mike finally felt like he managed to fly over the wall that separated them.

Closing his eyes, he let the wind pass beneath his wings, lifting him when he found a stronger current when he reached the small forest on the other side. It’s been a while since he had a chance to properly spread his wings and despite knowing that his form was the result of a curse, he couldn’t help but enjoy these fleeting moments, when the world became as small as he was.

It felt almost as if the barriers between him and humans ceased to exist.

Flying upward, he made a twirl in the air, before pushing himself forward as the air caressed his feathers, weaving his tail like blue swirls.

When he sensed that he’d lost his way above the small forest, he made several circles in the air, his eyes looking for the peculiar building with brown tiles, that stuck out awkwardly in the field of green. 

If Norton knew what he was planning he would definitely murder him on the spot, maybe even turn him into stew so his death at least wouldn’t be in wain and he could finally have some meat on his plate... Shivering under the warm spring sun, he eventually shook the images out of his head. Only the thought of betrayal remained, pressing down on his chest as he kept convincing himself about his own goals. He had to do this or else he will wither next to the poet before he even decided to open his mouth!

Led by his own curiosity, he slowly descended from the air, taking a seat on a branch not too far away from the house he was supposed to get into.

As his gaze wandered from window to window, he noticed the bird motifs scattered all over the building, decorating the upper side of the windows just like how carved angels watch over the visitors of the town. Most of them had features of corvids, but he did not miss the carved vines hiding other songbirds and the giant cage in the corner where a single nighthingale sat on the ground, watching him with its dark eyes almost as if it wanted to cry out for help.

For someone who liked birds so much that he covered his entire home with them, Mike couldn’t help but notice the silence that surrounded the house. There were no calls, nor small noises. Not a single bird frequented the place and every time a song broke through the trees it came from far away.

Maybe there is just no food here for them, he thought to himself as he pushed his body away from the branch, flying around the house to look for an open window when he realized that the person he was looking for was not in the garden. Making a round, by looking into every nook and cranny and checking out every possible entrance he eventually found a window that was slightly left ajar. Swinging his body through the small space between the window and the wall he quickly found himself in a small kitchen. 

It was so clean compared to what he had experienced in Norton’s place, he had to take a few rounds to see that it was actually used and the owner of the house did not just put it there for the sake of owning a kitchen. Eventually he spotted the same coffee pot Orpheus was showing them days ago, but the lack of everyday dirt still concerned him. Even Norton’s counter had a few lone crumbs lying around, despite his best effort to keep his kitchen clean!

The brown furniture crushed the space in the already small room, making him feel even smaller, accompanying him with a strange kind of fear he had not felt ever since he left the forest. As he flew out of the room, he kept himself concealed behind obstacles and hid above eye-level in case he had met someone.  However, even after wandering in the house for so long, all he could hear was his own rapid heartbeats and the phantom noises. He was sure he heard footsteps, doors closing at random points of the house, yet he could never see anyone passing by. Not a maid, not Orpheus. Almost as if everyone who ever lived in this house just disappeared into thin air. 

Eventually, he reached the end of the dark hallway, ending up in the room where they talked with the author. Looking around, he never noticed how pristine… almost sterile the entire room felt like. There were no personal trinkets scattered all around that would make visitors wonder about the life of this curious man. There were no paintings on the walls either, making the space feel enormous, only being pulled back by the bookshelves. Were those books new? Did Orpheus even open them or were they just there for show? The feathers on his back stood, before he was forced to shake his entire body to make them return to their original place. 

If only Norton was here with him.

Without his warmth beneath his feet, he finally started to understand why the man told him to be careful. However, it was easy to discern all concerns when he was with someone who might have punched the lord of the house without hesitation.

Continuing his search, he spread his wings and with a few swift pushes, he was once again back on the lightless dark blue hallway. Many of the rooms were closed, their knobs being too heavy for him to open it, almost as if he was led by an unknown force, he eventually took the staircase, keeping cautious as he remained hidden from the curious eyes of strangers. 

There was something eerie about a man living in his mansion all alone, surrounded by complete silence. 

Treading carefully, he stopped in the shadow of a stone bust, listening with his entire body. He should have tried to ring the bell instead of breaking in, but the thought only occurred to him when he tried to think of a way to strike up a conversation with the author. 

If he is lucky, Orpheus is not at home so he can attempt a proper visit with a plan that does not lack any sort of common sense. Actually, he could have just gone back the way he came and attempted it the moment the thought occurred to him, however, there was also a thought in the back of his mind that did not let him sit quietly. 

Just why did Norton hate Orpheus so much?

Maybe by doing a little bit of snooping around he will find a clue about the origin of these negative feelings.

Soon, he had found himself in another dark hallway filled with locked doors and old paintings and a bitter scent lingered in the air around him, almost as if it tried to chase him away. However, instead of turning around, Mike decided to find the source even if the warning bells repeatedly rang in his small heart.

Away from there, back home, and never look back.

But Mike did not heed his panicked thoughts and instead, kept searching through the house, until he found another open door and without hesitation flew through in, soon finding himself regretting his decision. A confused cry hit his ears the moment he flew through the threshold of the room. A startled scream filled the room, new voices joining into the deafening cacophony of chaos. Wings flapped angrily at his arrival, hitting into something with a hush as if they were to alarm whoever was closest to the room.

Panic slowly crept up to him as he watched the distressed birds, all of them screeching at him and aggressively flapping their wings. Most of the bigger birds were in a large cage, situated on the ground, while the smaller their bodies had gotten, the metallic prisons seemed to follow suit until they eventually hung from the ceiling. Zigzagging from one corner to another, he tried to find a way outside. His frantic flight ended when he hit his body against one of the empty cages and lost the rhythm that had carried him up until now. 

Making an ungraceful landing on the lacquered table that stood further away from the cages, Mike tried to catch his breath, begging for them to stop shouting. His head hurt and he couldn’t even hear his own thoughts anymore, let alone the footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He couldn’t help but notice the amount of cages surrounding him and the feeling that he had walked into a trap sat heavily on him.

Suddenly, every bird grew quiet and the only noise he could hear were the footsteps growing louder and louder. The birds were tweeting among each other, curiously looking around when they felt the familiar presence. Almost as there were no reason to make a ruckus anymore, the crow whose cage was almost the same length as the table, let out a few cheerful caws hopping from one branch to another excitedly.

However, Mike couldn’t share its enthusiasm. He was not only neck deep in trouble, he might end up being locked up with the rest of the animals until the end of his life. And the worst of it? Norton has no idea where he went. He might thing he just left him without a word! He might even rejoice at the idea!

Orpheus stopped in the doorway, looking at the animals in the room with an expression Mike couldn’t really understand. It had the gaze of love any pet owner would wear, but his smile also masked mild annoyance. Almost as if he did not want to go near his collection without a good reason.

“Mr. Morton,” he heard his own name echo in the room and he instinctively turned his head. “I don’t think we had an appointment for today.”

Orpheus talked to him, like someone whose biggest problem is not the uninvited guest who suddenly appeared in a room that was most likely locked away from prying eyes, but the fact that he had no time to get ready for his visit. The inconvenience of surprise…

However, no matter how much Mike wanted to note that, he had a feeling it’s better to play along or else he might find himself locked up and surrounded by creatures he can’t understand. 

“Well, it is hard to get an appointment without a way of communication, isn’t it? Downright impossible.”

Orpheus stood still for a second, almost as if he was considering something, before he frowned when the crow in the corner started cawing at him.

“Then I recommend that we relocate this meeting to a more pleasant room. Perhaps the salon downstairs would suit your taste more.”

Mike nodded. He suddenly felt like he was thrown into a situation beyond his control and all he could do was to follow the man wearing an all-white attire. Did he think that if he dresses in bright clothes that will keep away the darkness that oozed in all corners of his home? How foolish… 

Letting out a sigh of relief when his wings listened to his orders he quickly flew past the author, perching on top of one of the stone busts as he waited for Orpheus to follow.

Key turned and a loud click echoed in the hallway signalling that the room that served as prison for far too many avian creatures was permanently out of his reach. 

“And what is the reason for your visit, Mr. Morton?” Orpheus asked when he reached the turning corner on the stairs and Mike relocated his previous seat to a different old man’s head.

“Just answers. Not many, of course. Just a few here and there that might deem to be useful on the long run.” he laughed, his body tensing up from the fake emotions.

“And what gives you the thought that I have the answers you seek?” Orpheus chuckled like he was talking to a kid. He simply couldn’t believe that anyone would find him a viable source of information.

“For starters, Norton hates your guts. And true, he does hate the entire world, but you seem to be the focus of these feelings lately,” was the honest answer that left his beak. “Something tells me you know more about his past than what he chooses to share with me. So here I am, asking questions.”

“Hmm…” he did not seem to be surprised by the question, if anything a knowing smile appeared on his face as he led his guest into the salon, clicking the light in the room to fight the evening darkness. Time seems to fly when someone is snooping around looking for clues.

Mike senses were keen, his body flinching when he sat on the chair and saw the door move. Thankfully it seemed to be a false alarm and the door remained open in case he had to make a run for it.

Same position, same seat, all they missed was a huffy poet and his comments. This time there was no biscuit, nor coffee. Just them and the eerie silence that sat heavily on Mike's shoulders. It seemed Orpheus was waiting for him to state his business, while the bird expected a question aimed at him. None of them really wanted to take the first step forward as waiting for the opponent gave them time to strategize.

Eventually it seemed that Orpheus grew bored of waiting and decided to put the first piece forward.

“So you want to know why Campbell hates me,” his sharp glare settled on Mike. “How do you plan to gain this information? Because I am not against telling you, however nothing is free in this world.”

“I don’t exactly have the kind of money you seek,” Mike spread his wings in puzzlement, but the author just shook his head with a low chuckle. 

“I have more money than what I can spend in an entire lifetime,” he said in a bitter voice. Mike felt a shiver creep up his back, but he decided to keep motionless. He couldn’t let a single sign of fear through. “But you still have something only you can give away…”

“My voice stays where it is, thank you.” he cut in.

“Yet it fails you when you try to share the information you want the most,” the man told him, twisting his joke into a weapon. "A rather interesting curse. Presenting you with the key only you can see, but nobody else can perceive."

Mike just sat there, flabbergasted at how easily Orpheus put the pieces together and solved the puzzle he couldn’t communicate to the world, even if his life depended on it. Maybe that was the moment he realized just how dangerous the man who sat on the other side of the table can be. Waiting for his reaction as he folded his legs and rested his hand on his knees.

“You came here to gather information on the miner,” he started. “And I’d gladly provide you with the information you require, however you also have to see that information in this world does not come for free. I might tell you what I know about Norton Campbell, which is quite a lot and might fill an entire book, but you would also have to give something that equals the value.”

“Something of value…” Mike muttered. “As you can see, I am a bird, I can’t exactly pay you from my imaginary pocket.”

“And you can’t exactly tell stories either,” Orpheus nodded in agreement. “But I might have a solution for that. Sometimes you don’t need to talk to tell a story and from what I gathered you are only prohibited from speaking directly.”

Mike opened his beak to talk again, but the words refused to follow. All he wanted to do was to share details of the curse, but even the possibility of that was taken away by a simple, additional spell.

“Whoever cursed you, got you well,” the man nodded agreeing. “So how about playing a small game. I’ll try to deduct what happened to you and you can answer those indirectly. If your voice fails you, then a nod will suffice. If you answer my questions I’ll tell you everything I know about your miner and how he turned out to be like this.”

The deal seemed to be tailored for him, almost too good to be true. He was cursed once over a mistake, so he knew better than to jump into something without trying to figure out the additional terms. Frowning, he looked at the man in front of him and not soon after he realized why someone would be so eager about the mere act of listening and sharing thoughts. 

The coup de grace was the emergence of a small brown notebook. Similar to the one Norton kept carrying around in his side pocket.

His stomach dropped when he realized that he was already sitting neck deep in a boiling pot, he was just lulled by the pleasant words and did not notice the temperature slowly rising and burning his skin. 

“What does the word everything mean in your book?”

“Everything. Things you wouldn’t even dare to ask from him without risking digging too deep into his past.”

“Then those are things that are not my business.”

“And yet you are here now, wanting to know more about him, despite Campbell refusing to tell you about his past. Kind of ironic isn’t it? Aren’t you a hypocrite, Mr. Morton?”

Mike could only sit there with his feathers ruffled as he was forced to see from a different perspective.

“Just let’s get over with this…” he muttered, earning a nod of approval from Orpheus.

“Alright then. My questions will be covering events, the situation with your curse among other things. If you feel like you can’t talk or your voice won’t be heard a simple head gesture will do as an answer. Tell me enough, and in return you will get what you wanted and maybe even more,” Orpheus' voice was calm, almost as if Mike did not just break into the inner rooms of his home. “Have you been in this form for long?”

“Long enough to forget what it feels to have wind blowing directly against my skin, but not long enough to forget what it felt to be human,” he explained, feeling relieved when the man nodded. 

“And where are you truly part of a circus troupe? Or was that just a coloured tale to keep me entertained and distracted?”

“I was with a circus, but not as a bird” he answered, however Orpheus frowned, meaning he couldn’t understand him. Eventually Mike just gave him a nod. 

“Hmm… Quite interesting. Years ago I heard a similar tale while I was traveling south to visit a friend of mine. In your case, are you the only one who got cursed?”

Mike shook his head. Just about everyone who was close to the ringmaster, he wanted to say, but he knew his words would not reach the world so instead, he just sat there in silence. 

“Are there any special conditions to break your curse, then? Or is it a permanent state?”

He nodded. However, after the last attempt he couldn’t really tell anymore. For years, he had lulled himself with the idea that if he could only meet someone who was not burdened by the same curse, a simple yes could earn his freedom. And yet, while an agreement was uttered on both sides, under the watchful eyes of saints he was still locked in his prison getting more and more tired by the simple act of existing.

“It feels permanent,” he muttered eventually when he noticed that Orpheus might have misunderstood his answer. “Like no matter what I do, nothing will ever change.”

“Is this the reason why you are with Campbell? To make your existence matter?”

He nodded.

“Why Campbell?”

“I wish I knew. Maybe, because he was the first person I met in a long time? He is a good company, even if he can be insufferable at times. And after everything, I have nothing better to do anyway, might as well keep him from dying.”

Orpheus stopped writing for a moment, his gaze lingering on Mike's body, almost as if he was looking for clues.

"Shapeshifting enchantments usually involve some sort of system or rule in order to control them.  Since you have not changed, even when you were threatened by the danger of getting caught, I assume you have no control over this aspect of the curse. Do you change form according to the flow of time, just like werewolves?"

Mike shook his head. How much he wished to do so. So he could at least spend one night in his old body. He could finally prove that he is more than just a blue fluff of feathers…

"Then is your curse connected to bonds."

A hesitant nod followed.

“Interesting… Did Campbell try to help you?” Another nod. “Was he the first person?” Mike just shook his head. Norton might not have been the first person to try, but he was sure that man was the last one in the line, because he just gave up after that failure. 

“Can you tell me about the first person?”

“I’d rather not.”

“If you want to know more about Campbell, I’d recommend talking or at least gesturing.” Orpheus smiled at him. A calm and collected smile that managed to strike his heart with fear. He struggled to find words without revealing too much and providing the author with the information he wanted to gather from him, but the events of his past were too straightforward and lies did not come as easily when he was under pressure. 

“It was something of the past, with someone who meant the world to me,” his voice strained as he tried to prevent himself from oversharing. He had already told too much and shown too many weaknesses in front of someone who actually had the ability to exploit him, “After everything that happened, he tried to help me, but it did not work and even soured everything we had together. Might have been because we both suffered the same way but we were prohibited from voicing it and it caused us to lash out, I have no idea what went wrong there. Sometimes it feels like it did not help and only made the cage feel smaller. After all, if even the person closest to me couldn’t help me, then who could?”

He couldn’t say anything more. What else could he add? Maybe his personal feelings, but he would rather keep those away from Orpheus. The author was already too nosy and digging his talons uncomfortable deep into his heart. 

Blanketed in silence, he tried to make himself even smaller as if that would prevent further questions. However, Orpheus seemed to be satisfied with the information he managed to collect from him; the painful details of his life dancing on paper with cursive letters for everyone to see. 

The only person who should have known these details was Norton and he was also the only person who could get him to talk. However, the man missed the cues and the small, yet evil details hidden within a simple curse and Mike honestly doubted that the idea of simply talking about his past would occur to the man. 

Suddenly the pages were turned, back and back until Orpheus eventually stopped near the beginning. Looking up at him as if he was signalling Mike that he was about to fulfil his own end of the deal.

“Before we start, let me ask… Has Campbell ever spoken to you about his past?” he asked with his brows knit. Mike just shook his head the same way he did that day.

“He mentioned working as a miner, but it usually happened whenever he had to justify being an ass to others.”

“I see…” The man’s frown deepened, as his gaze was set on his notebook turning several more pages back. “Well, Norton Campbell’s family tree is nothing truly interesting. His father is from an off-branch of one of the largest clans in Scotland, but aside bearing the name as a symbol of belonging, his connection with the clan was never too strong to begin with and he eventually travelled south, through Devon until he settled down in a small town named Bodmin and got a work at one of the local mines dealing with tin. There he met Campbell’s mother, who at the time worked as a bal maiden at the same mine. Apparently, not only six month later the two finally decided to tie their lives together and not soon after that a child saw the light of day. Possibly due to the hasty progress of the relationship, the seams started tearing up not soon after,” Orpheus looked up from his notes, smiling when he saw that he enjoyed Mike’s full attention. “You see, his mother decided that her job as a mother came to an end after giving birth to him. She never quite liked the idea of raising a kid, and the employer often held back payments from his workers to keep them in debt firing up arguments between the pair as they were both forced into poverty and more than often their wages went to pay last month’s necessities.”

“Can you tell me one thing, though? How do you know all of this if Norton was a baby? I doubt he had the ability to know what his parents had went through,” Mike couldn’t help asking. Orpheus told him the details like someone who had seen it happening.

“A story can be told from a different point of view and reality is also witnessed by the surroundings of an individual.”

So in short, you’ve stalked him, Mike thought to himself, feeling the feathers stand in his back. If he could, he would have punched Orpheus and after that tear that accursed notebook to pieces. 

“Campbell’s mother eventually eloped with a man who happened to be rich enough that he could provide a better life for both of them. She had left behind the mines and stepped up her societal rank. As her relationship with her husband was already soured by poverty and she never considered the child to be an important part of her life, she left both of them without hesitation. Possibly, because he could not bear the idea to work at a place that reminded him of his wife, they moved back to Scotland when Norton was only five. Their plan was to live with an old friend called Benjamin until they could gather enough money to stand on their own.”

“Something happened, right? Otherwise, you would not tell me this part of his life.” 

“Pneumoconiosis.”

Mike cocked his head in confusion, to which the man added. “Black lung disease, as people call it. It’s common among miners and might end with their lungs collapsing from overexertion, even your Norton has it to some degree. Regardless, one winter, the old Campbell got sick and not even a week later he passed away leaving an eight years old kid behind with nothing but the clothes he had on him.”

“Did Benjamin adopt him?” He felt like he was just dipped in cold water at the information regarding Norton, but if there was one thing Mike got overly familiar with, it was the art of diverting attention. That small detail about his Norton was a red herring with the ability to halt their conversation and make him use up the time he was given by useless questions. 

“Not in the formal way, but yes, he indeed let Campbell stay with him as a final promise he made to his father. Iron Chisel Benny acted as a father figure to the boy, although there were never any amilial connections between the two. His co-workers report that Campbell acted humbly, always helping the older miners, but he had no attachment to any of them. Not even to the person who raised him. Around twenty years later, he left behind Benjamin without a word and travelled back to Bodmin to work there, carrying the hope that he might finally talk with his mother and clear things up. By then, the woman was living in a small mansion and she did not want anything from a lower class citizen even if it was her own son. On that day, Norton Campbell was officially disowned on his mother’s side.”

Mike couldn’t believe his ears as the tale went on. It was almost impossible to believe that someone would have to go through so many hardships from the moment they were born.

At least, the more he listened, the more explanations he had found when it came to Norton’s behaviour and why he acted like the whole world was out to make his life harder When he got close to someone, life took them away, when he tried to find a connection, he was pushed away leading him down the road where he gave up on companionship. 

“What about his scars?” he found himself asking, thinking back on the sleepless nights he had spent next to the poet. All that tossing and turning was enough to rouse the bird from his slumber. “How did he get them?”

The author just laughed lightly, closing the book with a soft thud. 

“I am afraid we have already exchanged an equal amount of information from both sides. If you wish to gain more, I might be able to provide something, however, I believe there are tales that are better left unspoken. After all, we should be able to let the person committing crimes speak up for himself first.” a cold light glinted in his eyes. “Otherwise my execution of the story might affect your opinion on the person in question.” It’s not like you would believe me if I told you he was a murderer responsible for the death of his fellow co-workers.”

His lips bent into a soft smile. A twisted expression from someone who just announced that Norton Campbell took someone’s life without batting an eye.

Mike shivered under his gaze, a panicked thought coursing through his mind as he kept looking towards the door that led to the hall. Were the windows locked? As he looked back at the man, he realized his escape routes were probably cut the moment he entered the house. 

If Norton was a dangerous murderer, Orpheus was something much worse. Maybe something akin to a demon that wished to add him to his collection of prisoners.

He jerked away in panic when the man stood up.

“I think our discussion ends here for today. Do you wish to leave through the front door or should I open the window for an easier departure?”

“Wait! Aren’t you going to lock me up now that I know too much…?” Mike blurted out, confusion glistening in his dark eyes.

“If I did, the miner would tear this house apart brick by brick. Besides you know as much as everyone else,” he shrugged, sluggishly walking towards the window. Outside, the burgundy light of the setting sun was nowhere to be seen anymore, and its soft rays were replayed by the darkness of the night. The moment the frigid night breeze hit his body he felt a strange relief wash over him, a sense of freedom that might be taken away by a simple click. However, as he took flight, the wind under his wings never subdued, carrying him forward until he stopped on the ledge on the outside, the soft glowing of his feathers illuminating the cold stone beneath his feet in a blueish light.

There was one last question that occurred to him as they talked. Something that kept eating away at him as he listened to the tale. How would someone like Orpheus know so much about a common miner? Sure, some information can be found out by talking to others, but personal experiences and feelings either had to be fabricated or shared in a direct conversation.

“Did he… Did he come to you as well? Did he tell you a store in exchange of something?”

“Actually, I looked for him,” the man answered in a voice that carried no emotions. “I saw him at his worst and it made me think, can a man like him ever triumph over anything in life?”  

“So how do you see it? Can he?”

“I think the only one who can answer this question is you, Mike. I only gave him a little push in the beginning to start a chain of event. However, you can see how he fares and how he fights in the war he’d created around himself.”

Frowning at the answer, Mike turned around without giving the man any more words, feeling lighter the farther he got from the house. Despite several questions circling in the back of his mind, he felt that further discussions would only weave chains around his body and pull him back until he would be unable to leave. Thankfully, Orpheus did not call after him and the moment he was sure that Mike won’t return he closed the window, eventually turning off the light in the room letting him focus on the sole goal of reaching Norton. To hear him talk about his day, to see his scarred face and the disappointed expression that seemingly got permanent on his face after years of hardships he was forced to bear.

Mike desperately wanted to find the solid island in the sea of darkness that kept reaching for him with its cold waves. Even though his feathers were supposed to protect him from cold he couldn’t help shivering with his entire body, tensing up from time to time when he realised what he had done to both of them just because he refused to heed the warnings.

His heart clenched as he finally returned to the grey house Norton called his home, however what scared him more was the dim light that lit up the curtain next to the window. While he did not plan to stay away for too long, he also did not expect Norton to wait for his arrival.

It was a bad sign. A terrible one.

But the weight of his actions only set in, when he finally landed in front of the window and finally got a glimpse of Norton himself. He betrayed the man and he did not even knew and the knowledge stabbed into his chest, poisoning his thoughts and emotions.

He thought he could do it, he could just pretend that everything was fine. That he did not just sell his own past in exchange for Norton’s, however when he knocked on the window and finally saw that hopeful gaze, those eyes filled with worry as the man pushed his chair back to let him in, Mike felt something shatter in his chest.

Chapter Text

The Bluebird’s Lament

Even a blind person could see that between his departure and arrival Mike had seemingly gone through a wide range of emotions only to end up in negatives and hit the ground as a result. Almost as if something had drained him of the happiness while he was away on his so called “bird business” that he refused to elaborate on. It left him with a fallen crest and no energy to do anything but to sigh and lean against Norton’s left arm that he had rested on the table as he tried to force words onto the paper in front of him. Resting his head on his elbow, Mike looked up at Norton, but he made no comments and the bird was eerily silent compared to his previous peppy nature.

"Hey, did a cat give you a good chase?" He asked, pushing the blunt end of the pencil against the bird's fluffy blue cheek. Mike just huffed in response.

"If you want to make a rhyme with malice, you should use a different word." He pointed out. "Chalice does not make sense in this setting and just ruins the mood altogether."

"You haven't answered my question." Norton kept poking his face after circling the ends of those two lines as a reminder for himself.

"Yeah. I can assure you there was no cat involved. I just had the worst day ever since you messed up my chances to have a full life…"

“That was not so long ago,” the man noted, causing the bird to bury his head deeper into the curve of his arms, throwing his wings to both sides in defeat.

“I guess…”

Somehow Norton couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, despite the fact that up until ten minutes ago he was already making up arguments in his own head, wondering about what kind of words he should be throwing against Mike’s head when he finally decides to grace him with his presence. In the end, he came up with several variations, some of them including swears he had learnt at work, but none of them mentioned that not seeing the bird around when he left the store struck him with worry and he even walked around town in case Mike got in trouble. By the time evening fell, Norton was ready for any of the possibilities life wanted to throw his way and yet seeing the bird still managed to catch him off guard and brought far too many questions.

“Wasson? You won’t even ask about my day?” at the strange dialect Mike raised his head, blinking at Norton in confusion. 

“Well, you are writing a poem and seem to be in a good mood, so I think today was successful on your end,” he said as he quickly put his head back on Norton’s arm. “You made a mistake there. Put a comma at the end of that sentence, it will make the pause feel more meaningful and out the emphasis on the sentence that you answer in the next line.”

Norton was about to make the corrections, but his pen stopped on the paper, the dark ink that got collected in its cylindrical body slowly seeped into the thin paper. 

“A‘ight… So who are you and what have you done to that annoying shrieking demon?”

“He is tired right now and won’t accept calls. Thank you.” he ruffled his feathers. If he was not afraid of Norton kicking him out, or worse, picking up his body and tossing it against a wall in retaliation, he would have told him everything. He would have apologized for betraying that few days of friendship they had managed to build up. Maybe Norton would not be angry. Maybe he would admit that Mike had no other choice.

However, eventually fear won over his actions, putting a chain around his small throat as he tried to force his thoughts out. 

All it did was to make him feel more miserable, until he couldn’t bear the closeness anymore and the worried glance that shone through the disappointed frown. Deflated at his own rudeness, he eventually muttered a soft apology and spread his wings, flying up to the top of Norton’s bookshelf. 

After all, that’s what he deserved.

Sitting alone in the dust, along with some forgotten books Norton had thrown to the top of the shelf as a gesture to get rid of them, but still keep them around in some form in case they deemed useful. Blue, red, green… It was a colorful collection very much like the fairy tale books he used to read at the circus when he was a kid. Those stories were short, barely longer than a rabbit’s tail, but he still remembers adding more scenes to the store once he closed his eyes, occasionally dreaming up his own version and featuring his friends and family members as characters. Looking at Norton’s shoulders, he wondered, if they happened to meet years ago what kind of role he would’ve given to the man?

Would he be prince charming? No. His words did not help Mike when he needed him the most and while he was charming, he definitely did not act like fairytale royalty. Maybe he is the villain that does its best to prevent the hero from getting his happy end. But no, Norton was not evil even if Orpheus stated the opposite and his body was disfigured by past scars.

Heaving a sigh, he turned away from the light, his tiny claws hitting against the dusty wood as he walked over to see the books from up close. Only now did he notice the silver carving on the spines and the name of Orpheus DeRoss glistening in the dim light provided by his feathers. Another curious case he never quite managed to understand.

Why keep around the books of someone he hates?

 He already knew why Norton insisted on writing those articles, but he always thought that those books were sold right after they served their purpose. Yet there they were, the Chronicles of Paper Town, A song from below and Death sneaks around with velvety feet. Blue, red and purple… All collecting dust with their colorful covers. Mike tried to open up the blue one on top of the pile, but all he could do was to move the hard cover with his beak and peek into the first page. He couldn’t turn the pages so he was left staring at the imprint or a map and the illustrations of birds flying through the title page. 

“Hey, would ya like to read what you demanded from me?”

He heard Norton’s voice from below him, but he did not make an effort to follow his suggestion. The book eventually closed with a soft thud as he gave up on his plan to read it and retracted his head from under the front cover. He wanted to read the poem and give feedback on it, but at the same time, he did not feel worthy of such a thing. How could he?

Eventually the legs of the chair screeched against the wooden floor as footsteps grew closer to his place. A suffocating silence enveloped them, one unwilling to speak while the other was not used to being the one to take the first step. 

Norton heaved a long, suffering sigh. The clothes he wore for sleeping rustled, and Mike was sure the man was scratching his neck as he shook his head in defeat.

"When you stop sulking, there is something for you on the nightstand."

For me? Mike's crest stood up on the top of his head as he quietly hurried to the edge of the furniture, watching the poet leave nothing in his wake but darkness as the lamps went out with a soft click.

However, his words had the opposite effect. Mike was not stupid, he knew it was an invitation and also a trap to lure him closer and maybe initiate the conversation they both kept avoiding from their own side. But maybe this was his only chance to clear away the guild that kept stabbing into his chest each time he thought about the man. 

Besides, he was already a master at walking into traps set for him! One more was nothing compared to the previous bad decisions he had made!

Spreading his wings he followed Norton, silently flying into the dark room where he instinctively landed on the nightstand, claws quietly tapping against the wooden surface. He usually kept himself propped against the lamp on the nightstand to prevent himself from falling to the side, however, as he walked closer to his usual spot a small bed greeted him. Its sides were decorated with small painted flowers, the vines hugging against the frames, blooming with a tulip-like motif in the middle of the sides. Quickly walking around the new object, he had to realize that the small furniture was either a strange new hobby Norton had picked up in a day, or the rumored gift. 

Upon closer look, Mike had noticed a set of duvets and a small pillow, almost as if this was made for a tiny human being. 

Jumping into the small bed he kept hopping on top of the duvet, enjoying the way it sank under his weight, leaving tiny footprints on the cover. 

“I leave you alone for a day, and this is what happens. You spend your hard-earned money on silly things,” he huffed in a barely audible voice. He was kind of amazed by the sudden thoughtfulness and how the bed was seemingly picked with care. 

“Look, who's talking,” a low voice groaned as the blanket rustled around his body. “And you’re welcome. I hope it makes your attitude more bearable.”

“You are currently being scolded without your knowledge. Go back to sleep, shoo, back to the other side,” Mike hissed when Norton turned towards him, but it was too late. Norton was already looking at him, his mismatched face becoming brighter as his eyes got used to the darkness.

Mike might even say that he was concerned about his well-being. However, he knew Norton well enough to realize that he was imagining things and the feelings he wanted to see were never there to begin with.
Truth to be told, deep down, he half-heartedly expected Norton to keep up with the questions. To bother him until he was finally cornered and the truth was forcefully dragged to the limelight allowing Norton to be rightfully disappointed by his actions. It would have been the perfect punishment for a traitor like him and yet… Norton did not seem to pursue the truth and accepted Mike’s silence as an answer, his next words shaking the bird out of his reverie. 

“Consider that bed as a sign of late gratitude.” Norton stated, his dark eyebrows pulling closer to each other.

“Oh! Oh?! What did I do?”

“Just casually ruined my life,” Norton scoffed, rolling his eyes, before adding. “You did not get what you wanted when you helped me.”

Mike cocked his head to the side before he finally managed to connect the dots. There were many instances when he actually ended up helping his good for nothing poet, but there was one case that was left without its respective gift of gratitude. The failure of that day still stung when he thought about it, but the thoughts that kept poisoning his entire being seemed to disappear. 

“You know… I still don’t get it how you drank so much that you walked into the forest and passed out there. My wings got tired just flying from there to your home and that skill is MY forte,” Mike mused to himself as he finally sat down on the top of the small bed. In the darkness he could see Norton turn on his back and his gaze was set on the ceiling, as if the yellowed splotch from a past leak would jog his memory. He fell silent for a short while. In the space of those moments Mike could hear the cogs turning in his head before Norton’s lips parted.

"Wish I knew. I went drinking with that rat, Freddy and a few others from work, thinking it would be a fine idea to gain some connections. The next thing I know I am in the forest with a bleddy hangover and a talking bird. Memory ends when he started telling me that I should go back home or something and then the next memory is the forest at dawn.”

"And even with a splitting headache you tried to trick me. Very nice of you."

"Did I?"

"Saying something then trying to pull a disappearing act counts as one. And thus, I am here." He chuckled. "By the way, have you considered that Freddy left you in the forest? Because I can see him doing that."

“Freddy?” Norton frowned in the darkness. It was not impossible to imagine Freddy wanting to punish him in some way and the events before the film skip just did not line up properly. “He is a scrawny man.”

“You are not exactly a gladiator either,” Mike noted, opening his beak for a yawn. He quietly enjoyed the soft sound of disagreement from Norton, “Maybe he had help. From what I’ve seen you are at the bottom of the pecking order. When you can observe them from a different point of view, you kind of realize that some adults are just like kids, they just have more ways to be ugly to the other and join forces when they can get more people in the club. Weren’t you the one telling me that everyone looks down on you?”

“It’s not like I can do anything about it without a solid proof and as you have said, confronting him without those would put me even lower in the pecking order,” Norton muttered as he turned towards Mike, his blinks growing longer and longer as he eventually succumbed to sleep.

As Mike stared at the man, as if a small chest he had kept hidden up until now suddenly opened and his own memories were sprawled out in front of him. Drinking after a show was not an unknown concept for him, even if they never truly had access to the fancy drinks the ringmaster shared with his fellow business partners when he needed to smoothen them up for permits and contracts. 

For them however, drinking was more free. There were no set rules as glasses were filled and it seemed that the moment they reached the end, someone already jumped after them with the idea of refilling what was lost.

Closing his eyes he was back at the circus with warmth surrounding him from all sides. He recalled his cousin worrying over him, weakly trying to get him to stop by keeping the drinks away at all costs, pouring for everyone but him. By that time, none of them were free from the effects of alcohol and even through his hazy memories Mike could remember himself acting like a kid, pouting and throwing a tantrum. He had grown up since then and thinking back on his actions and words filled him with second hand embarrassment. 

The way he was suddenly twirled around just before he had a chance to throw his curses at his cousin over something silly. His heart squeezed at the memory of the dance and how quickly his anger had disappeared once his attention was successfully distracted. However, the rest of the memory lacked the old shiver that ran through his body and embraced him like a good old companion. The kiss that once made him jump to the moon and back became nothing more than a sweet memory serving as the hopping point.

The first love that was soon followed by a second in the form of a broken poet.

The fluttering feelings were suddenly back, almost as if hundreds of butterflies tried to break out of their confinement, only to bring forth a long suffering sigh when they finally gave up on their relentless siege. Part of him wished back the dull old feelings that had gone cold over the years, but that was not an option.

He had fallen without noticing it. 

Shaking his head in defeat, he suddenly found his feet tapping against the wooden nightstand as he made a small jump on the bed. He sank into the pillow at first, but eventually managed to make his way to Norton. Holding his breath, he slowly nested himself between his chest and chin. Norton stirred at the sudden contact, his arms moving up to see what decided to attack his personal space, his palm landing on the back of the bird while he processed his presence.

“You just got your own bed,” he groaned, as he tried to get the crest away from his face by blowing into Mike’s feathers. 

“Ohh, shut up. I was away from you for a whole day and I am in a bad mood. Let me have this.” he said, finally sitting down. 

“So now you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I never said I did. I just mentioned several times that you are an insufferable prick, but frankly that’s something entirely different.”

Norton remained silent.

“I hope you do realize that it would only take me one move and I could end you here and now.” he muttered under his nose, far too tired after running around town like a poisoned mouse.

“You wouldn’t—” Mike gave a fake exclamation. “Would you murder the blue bird of happiness?!”

“I would, if he keeps talking. Now if you won’t leave me be, at least do me a favor and go to sleep.”

“B-But…”

“Sleep.”

It was easier to be said than done, Mike thought to himself. His small body slowly deflated, the blue feathers melting into the cream coloured pillow. He wondered why Norton did not mention his glowing marks, but at that point he was too happy to question him more and bring attention to this small detail. 

However, dreams wouldn’t come and he was soon left alone in the darkness with Norton’s hoarse snuffling and the rhythmic tics of the clock in the next room.

Tick-tock, time passed more sluggishly than ever, striking fear into him when he realized that the truth would have to come to the surface before Orpheus decides to put his story into a collection.

Chapter Text

The grey blanket that was pulled over their head in the darkness of the afternoon turned the world outside into a scenery any painter would be jealous of. Different shades of blue here and there coloured the inside of the clouds, leaving their soft edges bright and monochrome, promising rain for the whole day.

The sound of small drops hitting against the leaves wouldn’t subdue even when the door closed behind them. If anything, the small tapping against the leaves became more erratic almost as if the weather just waited for Norton to leave the safety of the building to show him its true power, grabbing into his hat with a gust of wind. Almost immediately the spray-like drizzle got stronger and the heavy raindrops forced him to reach for his umbrella as he fought with the attacks of the elements. He almost hit the bird on his shoulder in the process of setting the umbrella against the wind. It did not help his case much, as the Mike kept shaking the water off his feathers before they even had a chance to roll off his body acting like a personal rain cloud.

At his theatrical actions Norton expected a string of complaints, maybe a half-sentence that could start an entire conversation lasting until the wind swept them through the town. However, Mike remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself for the first time since the two met. It was a state he should have welcomed in open arms, and in any other cases the steady rhythm of the rain would have calmed him down, washing away the worries he had accumulated over the weeks. 

This time, the knot in his chest kept growing into an entity far too big and far too dangerous, yet before the creature could have burst forward it was stopped by Norton himself. Opening his mouth to ask what bothered his companion the words just wouldn’t come as the beast grew reluctant. He had to realize that he had no idea on how to start conversations that are not connected to work or were not direct complaints about the behaviour of his partner. 

“Do we really need to go?” Mike muttered on his shoulder, shivering when the wind found its way under his feathers.

“If you don’t want to eat the floor, from board to board next month, then yes.” He blessed the conversation starter, but it died as fast as it came bringing back the heavy silence that nested between them. 

Norton marched forward, leaving the small park behind. He naively thought their discussion last night would finally bring some balance back into their life, but the scale still inevitably tipped on Mike’s side. By now he knew that he can’t just force information out of the bird if he did not want to talk, at the same time seeing Mike act like Norton did at times was a painful experience almost as if the small event forced him to look into a mirror. However, at least Mike knew how to cheer people up even if it was by being almost maddeningly annoying or by completely deterring the conversation with something stupid that earned confused looks. 

Norton was not capable of any of that. He was not funny and his company was anything but pleasant. His attitude irritated more people than he dared to count. What’s more, even the weather decided to work against him as the sky poured its own tears on the setted streets. 

Drip, drop, drip

The raindrops gradually grew on the metallic tips of the umbrella, before they finally reached their destination and hit the ground at his feet. Making his way through the sea of umbrellas he felt relief wash over him the moment he entered the small courtyard surrounded by the tall walls of the building. Warm light shining through the filmy curtains almost as if it intended to fight the darkness brought by the grey carpet that spread over their head.

Balancing the umbrella with his upper arm, Norton lifted his messenger bag in silence and Mike followed his instructions.

“Fine, fine… You should really clean your bag, it has breadcrumbs from 10 years ago!” he mumbled as Norton flipped the bag over the grumpy bird’s head who continued his lecture, his voice becoming muffled by the layer of leather that surrounded him. “One day you will put it down somewhere and realize that you suddenly collected a bag of ants.”

“At least you could spend your time counting them, instead of whining,” Norton noted, a smile playing on his lips when he heard an angry sigh. Sure, he was not happy about the bird and the unexplained reasons for his bad mood, however the chance to give the bird a taste of his own medicine entertained him, regardless.

The door creaked painfully as Norton entered the lit room and folded his umbrella right on the doormat, leaving copious amounts of water beneath his feet. It slowly soaked into the gap between the lacquered wooden floor, earning a loud tsk sound from the side. 

Despite light coming through the window next to her, Patricia still had the lamp on her desk lit, painting everything around herself in an orange light. Norton felt like he just walked into a witch’s den and the reproving frown he got only confirmed his feelings. 

“What is up with men closing the umbrella only after they close the door behind them? We have a pitched roof for a reason.” she chided, her frown only deepening when she noticed that the umbrella Norton put into the basket was still drenched and the puddle beneath the basket grew rapidly. “You better clean that up Campbell…”

“It’s where it belongs.” The man countered but the woman just sighed

“If the floor we are walking on starts rotting and creaking because of you, I’ll make sure to get you fired from this establishment,” she said. Her voice remained calm and patient. It’s been not long since Norton joined their ranks, but she already managed to find a grip on him that would make the man have a sudden change in attitude. She did not miss the way Norton’s movements slowed as he looked at her with confusion on his face. 

“Mop is in the storage. Better hurry or else Mrs. Keogh will be hearing about it,” she warned him, earning a string of curses, but the man eventually put his hat and coat on the hanger and threw his bag on the lounge couch. Patricia did not miss the shock flashing through his eyes as he rushed after it, quickly hanging the piece of accessory back on his shoulder.

She could only hope her frown was not visible in the subdued light of the office as the author headed towards the small room. The door opened and he was rummaging and cursing when something fell to the floor with a loud thud, but Campbell was soon back with his weapons of cleaning, doing his absolute worst at gathering the water that gathered beneath his umbrella. The way he dropped the mop back into the puddle and started spreading the water made Patricia wonder if he ever did this in his own home, or he just grace his workplace with his ineptitude. When their eyes met and he saw that childish pout on Norton’s face, it became clear that his actions stemmed from his pride being kicked.

Patricia would have been surprised if it wasn’t as with the exception of a few employees like Balsa and Grantz, the egos of their authors and artists often scraped the bottom of the sky and she could’ve sworn that after their first leather-bound, this limit quickly extended to the moon. They were all thinking they did some great favour to society by putting their thoughts on paper, yet acted like kindergarteners when they got criticized.

She couldn’t really blame them, after all, printing became more available just a few years before Mrs. Keogh established their publishing house. The likes of Norton Campbell couldn’t even imagine getting money from this type of work, as it was only available for scholars or people with plenty of money to burn.

Raising her eyes from her list of new releases, she saw the author stepping away, holding his breath almost as if he was waiting for another correction, before she nodded. 

“This will do. Thanks.” His shoulders immediately drooped and wordlessly, he took the supplies back to the storage.

Norton Campbell hated when he was being jumped around. It reminded him of his apprentice days that he had grown out of at the early age of fourteen. Anyone else would have gotten his honest opinions thrown at their heads for even considering the idea of Norton doing anything for them, but not Patricia. There was something about the woman that prevented him from lashing out and giving her a piece of his mind.

Of course, Norton would not admit this out loud, especially not with her being present but if there was one person who had the atmosphere to shut up the spoiled upper folks, it was Patricia. 

Having finished what she asked, Norton readjusted the messenger bag at his hips, carefully lifting the top of the lid in order to allow some light into it. Mike had been silent so far, not even talking to him when they were finally alone, just staring at the wall of the bag, sulking about something that has been bothering him since yesterday to various degrees. If he did not mean angry comments, then he refused to admit Norton’s presence.

Glancing between the door of Keigan and Patricia impatiently he finally opened his mouth.

“How long has he been inside, again?” Norton raised his brows, his eyes reflecting pure confusion. Even if he only considers the time he had spent with Patricia, it was already longer than how long his usual discussions with Keogh lasted.

“Only God knows at this point. He arrived at the same time as me, looked quite dishevelled too, but I had no chance to ask him about it. He was going on something about public safety and the state of the town, but frankly my coffee is more interesting than whatever Freddy Riley vents about whenever he has a human at arm’s length. I did my best to drown him out.”

Norton nodded agreeingly. Freddy did not miss a chance to kick into him with an insult, but he felt pity for those who had to endure the man’s sympathy. There was no escape from his grasps once he got to like someone, however the treatment barely differed.

A door opened at the back of the room, closing with a loud thud that shook the walls of the hundred year old building, followed by intentionally loud steps almost as if the person was stomping on the poor wooden floor on purpose. 

“And now this…!” a man groaned when he reached the carpet that separated their common lobby. “Why can’t they just fire the likes of you?!”

“Yeah, morning Riley to you too.” Norton frowned at the sudden attack as he took a step back from the newcomer. However, the man with glasses followed him almost as if he enjoyed the visible annoyance on Norton’s face that appeared each time he had gotten closer. At this point, he couldn’t help but wonder if asking about his employment was part of greeting him.

His reply was ignored as Freddy’s attention quickly fell back on Patricia, not because he wanted to talk, but because out of the two participants she deemed to be the more pleasant party.

“I can’t believe that hag refuses to give me a raise. I wrote twenty books for this company! Soon twenty two! And when I asked, she just sent me away because apparently I am already paid accordingly! What a joke!”

Patricia’s face took up a surprised expression, but anyone in the room could see how it was nothing but a mask to hide her irritation behind.

“Have you told her why?”

“Yeah, but apparently the rapidly deteriorating public safety of the town is not a good enough reason to put more money into my pocket. But of course, if Campbell were to ask she would have already jumped on her feet to fill out a form to give him some pocket money.”

“You know it well that I get less than you and I do more than just writing cheap porn for lonely housewives. Maybe you should try writing something else for a change!” Norton cut back. There was one thing about knowing that his co-workers utterly despised him, but the idea of favouritism definitely hit a nerve.

“At least, I get published unlike some uncivilized barbarian. How long have you been bringing her poems? A year? Maybe two? And how many of those were published? Ze-ro. Exactly zero.” he repeated the word, clearly enjoying the way Norton tensed up. “Maybe you should go back to the mines, at least then I would not have to look at your hideous face.” 

“You…” Norton managed, as all of his strength went into holding back his fist.

“So Riley, why the sudden problem with the law enforcement of the town?” Patricia cut in, her voice unamused.

“Well, maybe because this was the third time I got chased around by a wild boar! I went to the police, clearly stating that I want it gone and what did they do?! They just shrugged! We live next to a forest, these kinds of things are normal, they said! Is it normal for a beast to chase ME?! It followed me to my house! If it was not for the fence I’d have died on the spot!” he gestured wildly. “So if my own town can’t provide my safety then I might as well get higher pay for risking my hide every day.”

“If the boar chased you after work, then it’s not Ms. Keogh’s concern, nor should you ask for compensation.”

“It is, if she loses one of her bestselling authors! I do not want to be next on the list of great people who died in a boar attack. My readers would be left without a proper conclusion to my ongoing series!”

Norton was about to make a comment, when a cough rocked his body. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold it back, but each time his lungs flared up, pushing out more air, as if that would cease the urge. The gurgling coughs made their effect however, as Freddy winced, disgust sitting on his face as he took a step away from him almost as if Norton was a diseased animal.

“Disgusting…” he muttered under his breath, before turning around and disappearing in the small kitchen, possibly looking for the next victim with his story about the heartless witch and murderous hogs.

Edgar Valden sent him to warmer climates not even ten minutes later.

Still trying to catch his breath, Norton leaned against the desk, his arms keeping his body like two weak and shaky pillars that could crumble in any moment. His shoulders twitched as he regained his composure, starting a sentence, but unable to continue. 

Patricia did not rush him, she patiently waited for him to collect his strength. 

“One day, I’ll punch him so hard that the wall will give him the second one.” he swore under his breath, but Patricia just shook her head as her lips bent into a soft smile. 

“Life will punish him eventually and if anything were to happen to Riley, you would get the same sentence as you would if your victim was an honest man. Just let the boars do their job.”

Norton scoffed, finally finding enough strength to let go of the desk.

“Well, he is quite the pig himself. Maybe it sensed some familiarity.”

In that moment a laughter echoed between them. Patricia blinked in confusion, and Norton responded in a similar manner, just before the colours seeped from his face and his hand wandered to his bag. 

“Maybe you should let that bird out of your bag,” the woman suggested, tipping her pen towards the brown messenger bag. 

“I have to go and meet with Keogh,” he tried to get himself out of the situation, but the events spiralled downward far too fast. 

“With a bird in your bag?”

“No. Because there is no bird in my bag.”

At this the woman just leaned back, her dark skin glowed in the warm light of her lamp.

“Strange. Because I swear I saw you put the bird in your bag. And don’t take this to heart, but you were not exactly subtle about it. I only had to glance to the side to see you clown around with an umbrella and that poor creature.”

Norton felt his face flare up, like a kid who was caught red handed. In reality, he was indeed far too focused on hiding the bird from his own co-workers and failed to realize the windows that surrounded him when he did it.  

Eventually, the first one who got bored of the conversation was Mike. Pushing his body out through the small gap in the bag, he swiftly flew up to the table landing in front of Patricia in a way that the books hid his body from anyone who looked out from the offices.

“Really…” Norton scoffed in disbelief. The bird nodded. Anyone would have missed it but not Patricia. This small detail was far too jarring and out of the ordinary.

“How adorable… What is their name?”

“Mike.”
“Mike…”

She looked at Norton in disbelief, before her gaze wandered back to the bird who sat on her desk. Reaching out her hand, she slowly got closer to the animal before the tip of her index finger disappeared in the blue feather, rubbing the neck of the blue bird. It clearly did not plan on accompanying its owner further than the entrance, but Norton still stood there like an abandoned kid, looking around wildly as if he was searching for words scattered around the room.  

“You wanted to meet Mrs. Keogh, no?” she asked, raising a brow in question. “I’d go in before Riley realizes he realizes that he can hold another two hour long argument about why he needs a raise.”

Reluctantly, Norton stepped away from her corner, but did not leave without shooting a piercing glance towards the animal that occupied Patricia’s desk. She was tempted to ask about the importance of the small pet, but she knew Norton well enough to know that he would avoid answering her question, maybe even bite back like a hurt animal when someone wants to show it kindness.

Even before he disappeared behind the door, Norton glanced back at her desk, not looking for Patricia, but instead searching for his companion, nodding to himself when he realized that the bird was hidden away from the world.

Silence enveloped the small lobby, the only sound was the strumming of raindrops as they hit the windowpane next to the woman, reminding them that the grey weather refused to leave them just yet. Mike half-heartedly expected her to go back to work once she had acquired him from Norton, but the woman just leaned her elbow on the table and rested her head on her arm. The two mutually studied each other, with Mike noticing the small wrinkles in the woman’s youthful features while the woman named Patricia had her attention on the curling blue tail feathers.

However, this time Mike did not feel threatened. He should have, after all he had seen how Patricia could easily disarm someone with her voice and tone, but at the same time the more he looked at her, the more he felt a strange kind of familiarity that lulled him into a sense of safety.

The first to break the silence was Patricia.

“You can talk, right?” she whispered in a barely audible tone, a faint smile playing on her lips. Mike flinched at the question aimed at him, but all he could do was to turn his head to avoid direct eye contact. The only sign Patricia actually needed before arriving at her conclusion. “So you can… You know, you don’t have to pretend to be mute when it’s only the two of us here. I won’t tell anyone, not even Campbell in case you are worried about that. I promise.”

Another promise. Mike wanted to remain silent, but he was already found. If Patricia wanted to harm him, he would have been put in a shoebox and taken to a seller who would pay a high price for rare species. Besides, after Orpheus he truly couldn’t lose anything.

Looking around carefully he opened his beak to answer.

“How?”

“For a bird your gestures are strangely human, even the way you tilt your head. Anyone would see it.” she shrugged. “And you are not exactly subtle about understanding human language. I had parrots back home, and they never acted like this.”

“Just don’t tell him, please. I already caused enough problems by opening my beak.” he raised his wings.

“Whatever you say will be a secret between us.” the woman nodded, knitting her eyebrows together sadly. “But it raises the following question, why does an enchanted human travel around with a good for nothing poet?”

The question he keeps hearing repeated itself, however this time Mike was already prepared.

“He made a promise, messed it up and now I am haunting him wherever he goes.”

“You don’t sound displeased by it. If anything, you sound like the only person who is happy about the idea of spending time with Campbell.” She pointed at the bird, before gently scratching his neck and Mike did not complain about the treatment. 

“Come on, he is not that bad!” Mike stepped away, ruffling his feathers back. “I mean, sure he is a stubborn, rock headed idiot, who will bite you the moment you try to be nice to him and keeps looking for traps beneath words, but aside that, he is nice.”

“You wouldn’t say this if you had known him a month ago,” Patricia chuckled. “He used to get into arguments, shouting with everyone as if the whole world was out to get him. Mrs. Keogh almost fired him once due to his behaviour and it only became worse when we got copies of Deross’s books for reviewing. He got so angry he wanted to burn them.”

“No wonder…” Mike muttered to himself. If he could, he would probably make a sour expression, but then again, if he could, he would not be having so many problems right now. 

“I think he started changing after Freddy and the others invited him to drink,” she wondered, glancing at the door Norton disappeared behind, almost as if she was expecting him to appear the moment she started talking about him in a positive light. “One night they went out, he skipped a day of work and…”

She stopped, looking at Mike again, pursing her lips as she fell silent, trying to put two and two together.

“When did you two meet again?”

“Just barely two weeks ago, maybe a little more. I found him lying in my forest with the worst hangover I’ve ever seen in a man. He was out of commission for a day at least,” Mike mused to himself. He remembered what Norton had told him and it lined up well with what he had known. 

“A forest? But that’s…”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

Patricia nodded. 

“It was already suspicious when Freddy invited him out. You have seen them talking, right? Those two can barely stand in the same room without jumping at each other’s throat and then Riley just walks up to him and asks if he wants to hang out? Weird, if you ask me.”

“Why did Norton accept it then?”

“Obviously, because it was free.” she paused before adding, clearly enjoying that she could finally say what was on her mind. “And because Keogh told him if he does not start getting along with his co-workers she is going to send him away. He really had no other choice than to go along and force a smile.”

Staring at the wooden table at his feet, the cogs in Mike’s brain whirred loudly as he tried to put together the events of the past. However, every try ended with the voice of Orpheus warning him, planting the seed of doubt in his heart just when he was about to come up with an acceptable explanation.

In the end he just threw his wings in the air and groaned. He would have started crying if he could, but his form and his pride prevented him from showing his true colours in front of a stranger, no matter how nice she was to him. 

However, just before the conversation could go on, the room was filled with the click of a door handle, making Mike realize that he was running out of time.

“Pat, please keep an eye on Freddy for me and I’ll do my best to keep my idiot out of trouble,” he whispered hastily, almost begging the woman, hoping that Norton was too occupied to say his final words to Keigan. “Something just does not add up about the whole thing.”

Patricia nodded without a word and silently went back to work, not even flinching when Mike sprung to her shoulder just like he always did when he was traveling with Norton.

Suddenly the paper in front of Patricia became interesting for both of them and when the sound of Norton’s steps grew silent they met with a confused expression paired up with furrowed brows. Probably he expected Mike to start speaking, but the bird just turned his head, theatrically pretending to be mesmerized by the shiny pen in Patricia’s hand, before he glided down and tried to take it into his beak. 

The man opened his mouth as if he was trying to say something, however the words refused to grace him with their presence resulting in a huff. In his hand he was holding a paper and Mike could see the edge shaking lightly as he handed it to Patricia.

It was not a review this time.

It was a manuscript of a ten verse long poem with the official stamp on it, that meant he was allowed to publish it in their paper.

“Oh! Congratulations,” she gave him a knowing smile, putting the paper into a separate shelf earning a confused look from Mike. “I’ll write it to your weekly payment. Just sign it here if the price matches the one on the paper Mrs. Keogh gave you.” 

Norton followed her instructions, impatiently scribbling down his name just below a man named Luca Balsa. Mike did not miss how his hands were shaking when he tried to write down the date to confirm his signature. The price that had been written up was nowhere near the money others got on the list, but it served as a huge milestone for the man and it was getting harder and harder to hide his excitement. 

The first published poem!

Yet for some reason Mike could not share the enthusiasm. He had no heart to ruin the man’s happiness with the creeping shadows that he’d brought upon their head… 

Chapter Text

The scenery slowly started sinking into the comfortable embrace of shadows as they walked through the rainy town. The small restaurants that had their own terraces set up to invite visitors for a meal in the open, now had their chairs and stools pushed together with the hopes that the cover provided by the building might be able to protect their furniture from the relentless attacks of the small raindrops. Inside, the people went on with their lives, undisturbed by the weather, they laughed and talked among each other while the duo walked past, their own colours dulling in the grey afternoon creating a contrast between the two sceneries.

Everything was set to present bad news, even the sky reflected his feelings like a mirror with its blanket of darkness that refused to give way to the sun. Yet, Mike was still waiting for the perfect moment. A barely visible pause where he has Norton’s full attention so he could finally unleash the words that kept piling up and weighed down his small bird heart. Yet that moment refused to come and the pressure became almost unbearable.

The first person to break the heavy silence between them was Norton. 

“Have you had fun with Dorval?” The crest on the top of the bird’s head sprung before quickly flattening against his feathers. He wanted to speak, but his recent conversation, just like most of his conversations lately, contained small machinations that would not please his flatmate. In the end he just quietly noted.

“Well for starters, she is not as bad as you described her. Who knows, maybe I’ll stick with her from now on. Pretend to be a carefree little bird and get all the scratches my neck can take.”

“You would not last an hour without opening your beak to speak some nonsense.”

A shiver ran through his back, as if someone has dropped a bucket of ice cold water on his head and while he knew that Norton’s intention was not malicious, it did not help him from feeling like he was exposed, soon to be dragged in front of an audience where his lies would be listed.

Orpheus, now Patricia… Just how many people will hear him talk and spout secrets?

Shaking his head he looked at Norton’s scarred face.

“I am no feeling well. Can I stay in your bag instead?” he muttered, already gliding down to Norton’s arm that held the umbrella above them, expecting the bag to open up.

“No. When are you going to tell me what is wrong?” Norton asked, keeping his hand on the lid of the bag to prevent Mike from accessing it. Mike leaned to the side, his hand following his movements. “Almost as if you are not even happy about money or having my first poem published.”

“I do… I am!” Mike tried to defend himself. “Believe me when I say, I am happy for you, but—”

“But…”  Norton frowned, his steps slowly growing quieter until he finally stopped. 

“But… Look I… There are just things that I can’t tell you. Not now at least. Who knows, maybe never.”

“Why?”

The drizzle around them filled out the silence with its static sound as the raindrops pelted the world around them with no sign of stopping. Mike did not continue his sentence, he just kept walking left and right on his shoulder, looking around impatiently as if someone would suddenly appear to tell Norton the words that kept getting stuck in his throat. He would not mind someone like that, but he also knew that the only person capable of taking the weight off his back was the person who would probably put him in a cage at the first given moment. 

But now Norton thought he was not happy with his success. Maybe even a sudden visit to Orpheus would have served him better than the inability to speak what was on his mind! Shaking his entire body in frustration, he pushed himself off from the man’s shoulder, lifting himself into the damp air.

He did not look back, but behind him he heard something metallic hit the wet ground and Norton called his name as he tried to catch up. The battered shoes he always wore hit a puddle, making Norton jump from the sudden cold, but his steps quickly resumed with the same intensity, his name echoing in the empty street before Mike decided to take a turn and disappear above the rooftops.

Suddenly the bright blue bird was no more and Norton steps came to a halt, his eyes still searching for a sign of those glowing feathers. Turning around in worry, he was hoping that this was just a temporary argument, but explaining this to himself was deemed harder than he believed. After all, what was the guarantee that Mike would return to him this time? All he could do was to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

As the raindrops collected at the end of his hair, he frustratedly rubbed the unharmed side of his face, brushing the annoying strands that stuck to his skin away from his face. There was nothing to be done, he kept telling himself before he gathered the umbrella that was left behind when he started running. 

While he kept it above his head, at that moment Norton couldn’t care less about the rain. His shoes and socks have already soaked through soon to be followed by the rest of his body as he kept holding the umbrella in a position where he could see the sky and it only protected his bag and the notebook poking out from his pocket. The rain was not as kind either, instead the drizzle returned to its previous intensity, relentlessly hitting against his clothes as he made his way through the park, thoughts chasing each other without any order.

No matter how many times he tried to think it through, everything went off rails when Mike left his side for a few hours. Ever since his return there was something off about the bird and while he refused to talk about it. What frustrated him even more, it was clearly visible that this was something Mike actively prevented on his side, locking every door in front of Norton before he had a chance to get a glimpse of what was going on. After all, if there was one thing he knew about the bird, it was the fact that he had a habit of accidentally sharing information he did not intend to. 

But if there was indeed a secret, it clearly involved him if Mike was acting strange each time he wanted to learn more. After all, in any other cases, the bird would spread his knowledge in front of him with a triumphant chirp.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he turned around and disappeared among the sea of people once he reached the main street. One of them eventually had to take a step forward…

***

Keeping himself to his usual habits, Mike did not go too far from Norton.

In fact he chose to stay at a distance that he deemed healthy in his current state. He could still keep an eye on the poet, while the distance helped him clear his thoughts and the swirling emotions that suffocated him temporarily let go of the bird. 

He followed him like a small shadow, gliding from side to side and taking his chance to rest whenever Norton stepped inside a store. The umbrella folded way before he reached the door almost as if the man did not really care about the rain, just kept the façade going. Sometimes Mike caught him glancing around, his eyes searching the skies, waiting for his return. Even from above, the bird could see the way he furrowed his brows, before he disappeared behind another door carrying a bag with him.

If he was there, Mike would have most likely comment on the lavish lifestyle and the sudden urge to spend money, but from the rooftop all he could do was to watch Norton in silence, follow the man’s journey as he went through the empty stalls of the market, his dark umbrella acting as a pointer in the sea of red and brown. Refusing to leave his spot, Mike leaned forward trying to determine his goals in a place where everything was hidden by a fabric until the next morning where the shopkeepers would return to their stalls and invite a new wave of customers.

The light of a shop suddenly seeped on the rainy street, signalling that the man had stepped into another store.

And Mike wanted to be there. He wanted to look around in the stores while Norton tried to communicate with the locals, often failing when his accent got the better of him and the words that left his mouth were unknown to the locals. It was surely a sight to behold! Far better than watching the sea of umbrellas swirl beneath him. Colours and forms melting together as people tried to avoid each other. 

If he had looked up, he would have seen a flock of birds fighting with the rain the same way as he did, their feathers glistening against the grey clouds. Their flight was like a dance, meeting at the highest point in the sky then dispersing like the sparks in a firework, almost as if they were looking for something. They repeated their curious murmuration, getting farther away from the bluebird before they finally disappeared in the distance. 

Maybe if he saw them, he would have noticed the silence that settled over the town and the way the market’s square suddenly became a desolate place. Almost as if the lonely atmosphere urged him to leave by providing no entertainment for the small bird.

Once he noticed the tension in the air, holding his breath, Mike tried to listen with his whole body. His attention was on the small streets around Norton, wondering if the stage was set for something. He had no idea how he would protect the man, but if push comes to shove he would certainly find a way even if it meant getting rid of a few feathers. 

It was only a second.

Wings rustled forcefully above him as something swooped out of the sky aiming directly at him. He instinctively took flight only to witness the moment when a giant dark bird smashed into the roof where he had been standing up until now. Dark shadow seemed to be confused by his sudden change of position as it looked under itself by lifting one of its legs, wondering where he disappeared to.

However, the confusion did not last long and the crow spread its enormous wings, throwing itself after the small bird, like a shadow that wanted to snuff out the source of light in the leaden sky. With an elegant turn, Mike kept avoiding the claws and the beak aimed at him, his manoeuvres feeling like an elegant dance only seen in a theatre. The small body twirled around when the crow lunged at him, avoiding another peck easily, folding his wings to speed up, then spreading them to force a sudden stop mid-air.  

However, despite his best attempts to survive, his body quickly reached its limits, slowing down his reaction time even if he predicted the attack coming his way. The first attack hit his back, twirling him in the air before he finally regained his composure and decided to escape his attacker. 

Huge drops of rain pelted his feathers as he swiftly went for the market, the crow following his movements, speeding after him until it managed to tear into his feathers near the ground. Gasping in pain Mike sped up, his thoughts swirling just as frantically in his mind as he tried to find a reasoning behind the sudden appearance. 

Hearing a caw he whirled around, making a desperate attempt to reach the door Norton disappeared behind. Something grabbed onto his tail feathers tossing him in the air and making Mike lose every bit of momentum he had gathered while flying. After losing control over his flight a strangled cry made its way out of his beak as he scrambled to gather himself together, never noticing the flock of birds gathering on the rooftops to follow the events. 

Smaller birds often fell prey to their own family of avian creatures. He was no exception of this rule, despite his human origin. It was foolish to think that a crow would not see him as an easy target, yet as he tried to manoeuvre between the stalls he noticed the strange pattern with the movements of the animal remembering how easily they got sparrows and goldfinches on the meadows in winter, killing them within seconds.

Yet the crow refused to give him the coup d’ grace.

It tore into his wings, plucking the beautiful feathers as Mike tried to reach after them, keeping them to stop the pain. The attacks were never strong enough to be fatal, but soon enough, his long flight feathers were lying around him as he helplessly tried to shove off his attacker.

The only gift that came with his curse was being taken away from him! However, the realization came far too late. It only took one hit and Mike was down on the ground, a clawed leg pinning him against the wet setted road as the air was pushed out of his lungs. Flapping his wings he did one last attempt to free himself, but eventually his movements stopped and his wings tiredly fell back to the ground. The static sound of the world surrounded him, yet the mixture of fatigue finally got him and the numbing pain in his shoulders refused to lessen. 

Maybe it’s better this way, he wondered as the world grew darker. He had caused enough problems.

Suddenly, something brown flashed through his vision. The crow let out a pitiful cry and the pressure from his chest was gone letting him finally take air into his lungs. He tried to push himself to his side but he was taken off the ground before he had a chance to move. 

Something green, like the back of a rose chafer flashed past in front of his eyes as a faraway voice kept calling for him, desperate, almost as if he was dying. Was he? This would not be the first near death situation he encounters in his life, but he was pretty sure things were not as bad as the voice above him claimed. Gathering his last remaining bits of strength he had in his body, Mike pecked the cold finger connected to the hand that held him. 

“I swear, I am not dying… Let’s just go home.” he forced the words out of his beak with one last attempt to keep himself awake before the darkness finally pulled him under, leaving Norton alone with the sound of drizzling rain as he instinctively pulled closer to the warmth radiating from his body.

Norton could not imagine that he would feel the same level of panic as he did several years ago and even as he rushed through town, he had to stop several times in order to make sure that the rising and falling of the bird’s feathers were caused by his breathing and not by the way his hand shook under the fragile body, fearing that he might stumble and drop him. Calling his name did not seem to work, and each time he was only answered by the silence of the town that refused to help him in the time of need.

The tears in the corner of his eyes refused to fall, causing his vision to grow hazy. Even if Mike was alive the idea that he had almost lost him clenched his heart urging him to walk faster, ignoring the eyes that kept following his movements from the safety of the rooftops.

The small birds followed them like shadows, their blue feathers glistening against the darkening clouds, like stray stars looking for their place in the sky. 

Chapter Text

Despite his best efforts to calm Norton when he was already halfway on his way to be devoured by darkness, Mike would be lying if he said that the idea of falling asleep for good was not among his thoughts. While he did not know what dying would feel like, the complete lack of control over his own body scared him into the belief that he was actually at the end of his agony. His senses slowly slipped through his wings, until a thick haze settled on his mind, pushing him deeper into the abyss.  

Would Norton murder me if I died? Maybe he would be relieved that he finally does not have someone bothering him, He thought to himself before realising how impossible the idea was, unless his poet possessed more magical attributes than his talent to confuse people with his dialect. 

But if Mike died, he would be gone for good and probably these ideas would not appear in his mind, scattering the moment he finally grasps into them. Along with these thoughts, his existence would have been snuffed out like the light of a candle, never to be revived by another. 

Upon confirming his own aliveness, Mike finally decided to open his eyes, returning to the world from his dreamless sleep, lazily stretching his aching wings upward then to the sides, feeling something sliding off his velvety feathers before landing soundlessly next to his small bed. Looking down on the night desk, even in the dim light he could see that someone had put the diamond patterned blanket on his back. Hopping out of the bed, he put the piece of fabric back to its place without trying to fold it. That was a task he had given up on the moment he saw the gift. 

Looking around, his attention was soon captured by the light seeping through the small gap of the door, almost as if it was there to guide him out of the darkness. Yet, he hesitated, his claws clinking against the wooden desk. He knew it well what was waiting for him in the other room.

The silence, the awkward explanations, a hastily made white lie to cover the decaying truth that slowly started to rot everything around him. And the more he ran, the worse it has gotten, eventually putting a dent on his relationships.

Heaving a sigh, he reluctantly spread his wings, wincing when he felt a dull ache spread through his entire body. Shaking himself, he tried to move them again, hoping that it was nothing more than the remnant of sleep that refused to leave his muscles. However, the moment he pushed himself off the edge, his breath hitched when he felt pain cut into his body and his body clumsily landed on the wooden floor with a loud thud. Head spinning, he stood up staring at the useless appendages, one of them refusing to return to its original position as it kept hanging limply on the floor, making him wince and hiss every time he tried to pull it back against his body. Eventually, he gave up on his idea, and started walking, small claws tapping comically against the floor as his tail feather swept the dirt Norton refused to take care of as his daily routine.  

After he finally fought his way through the small gap and his senses were immediately invaded by the scent of meat and vegetables, especially the freshness of celery and carrots. Confused, he continued his journey through the small living room, not stopping until he reached the pitiful dark hole Norton called a kitchen. 

He felt small in the giant home and he could feel anxiety following him through the shadows, reminding him about his own weakness. 

Stopping in the door he looked around in silence. The stove, that was mainly used to boil tea water day after day, finally got a task that was worthy of its original function and answered Mike’s unspoken question about the origin of the scents. On the top of its metallic frame a small enamelled pot lazily coughed up steam as a sign that the process Norton had started was nearing its end. 

Wondering what brought the person who kept living on dry bread to the kitchen, Mike stretched his neck, crest standing up on the top of his head as he peeked at the table. He half-heartedly expected Norton to have company, but the man was sitting at the table, leaning against the back of the chair as he kept turning the pages of a green book, occasionally scribbling down some details on a piece of paper. He frowned as the words probably refused to come to him, tapping the table with his pen several times before he finally found the word he was looking for. 

Mike felt his beak opening, but he couldn’t muster the will to call out to him yet. There was something mesmerising about seeing Norton so lost in his work. The precision, the way his lips hitched into a triumphant smile when he finally found the exact words he was looking for… the sight warmed his heart.

At the end of the day, he was nothing more than a human trying to get by with his life. 

Blanketed in silence, he sat down, watching as the man continued his mundane work enjoying the sight of Norton treaded deeper into the work he’d claimed to despise. If someone did not knew him, it would seem that he actually loved nibbling with words.

His attention suddenly left the paper in front of him and Norton’s eyes fell on the bird. Mike could see it in his face that he was confused and expected the bird to fly through the door like he always did. Surprise was soon exchanged for a gaze of worry as Norton pushed the chair back, slowly taking steps towards him, almost as if he was trying to corner a wild animal. However, Mike did not even attempt to run from him, he couldn’t get away even if he wanted to.

“I can’t fly,” he blurted out, his despair seeping through the words he wanted to utter with no tonal differences. Feeling defeated was one thing, but admitting his temporary weakness took its toll on him. When the hands scooped him from the floor, he did not utter a single word and just let his weightless body be carried to the table with gentleness that made his heart shatter to pieces the moment those warm hands left his body. 

However, before Mike could have noted his wishes, Norton turned away. Thinking about what happened just a few hours ago struggled to find something that could start a conversation so eventually he just maintained a pained silence avoiding things entirely. He closed the notebooks around Mike, piling them up on the corner of the table and pushing the salt shaker to the side with the edge of the green book. A familiar name fell right where he was sitting, forcing Mike to take several steps away from it as if the sheer presence of the book burned his feet.

Orpheus just refused to stop following him around, did he?

Norton seemingly did not notice his anxiety and soon a small teacup was put in front of him. Mike just gave him a confused look, not understanding the small piece of carrot that comically stuck out from the small ceramic container.

Suddenly all the pieces fell into their place as Mike connected the warmth in the kitchen with Norton’s trip to several stores. This was Norton’s plan from the moment they split up, an attempt to connect with him in his own silent way.

“Is this soup… in a cup?”

“Yeah. Why?” Norton frowned. 

“It’s nothing. Thank you.” Mike shook his head. He was not in the position to question Norton’s intentions, especially not if the food was put in front of him without Norton’s usual complaining about his financial woes. “And thank you for saving me.”

Norton nodded as he sat down on the opposite side of the small table with his own portion of food. However, blanketed in silence none of them really knew how to start. Should they eat or should they let their words flow freely and let them destroy everything they had until now?

Eating in silence, they carefully avoided making eye contact, tiptoeing around the other as if they were unfamiliar acquaintances. Mike intentionally kept his head low, focusing on the piece of carrot that stuck out from the puddle of soup he was provided with. Occasionally nodding to himself, as if he was praising Norton in silence.

“I wish you would just tell me what bothers you,” the man muttered under his nose, refusing to look at the bird. "You forced your company on me, but now it feels as if you regret it… Worse is how you expect honesty from me but you refuse to be honest yourself. Where did all these secrets come from? And why am I not allowed to know them?"

“...”

“I asked this already, but if it's something that involves me, wouldn’t it be easier to tell me?” worry seeped through his voice as he folded his arms on the table, leaning closer to Mike. Cornered with no chance to fly away, Mike took a hesitant step back, his tail feathers sweeping papers off the table. 

“Y-You would be angry…”

“Well, good job I am angry already. Do you even have any idea how your behaviour affects others?” he asked in a strained voice, yet Mike felt himself get caught up in the last sentence.

“How does my behaviour affect others? My behaviour?!” he asked, feathers standing up on his body. “Maybe if someone did not try to keep everything away from me, I wouldn’t have been trying to do my best to figure out if I am living with a pathetic joke of a poet or a mass murderer!”

“Isn’t it enough to know what I am right now? Why do you want to know so much? Why is my past so important to understand my present?” This time it was Norton’s turn to raise his voice. 

“Because I care about you, dumbass. Because I want to understand you. Is it that hard to imagine? I want to know who Norton Campbell is, why he acts like the world is out to hurt him at every corner, why he keeps using marigold cream on his burn marks if he does not care about his looks, why tosses and turns around in his sleep until he fights his pillow off the bed. Why is it so hard to understand that I care about you?!” he was running out of breath, but this time there was no way to stop himself. Like a dam that could not keep the water back, his words and thoughts rushing forward sweeping away everything that stood between them. Looking up at Norton, he felt pathetic. What was he? Just a bird who dreamt of his happy ending only to wade deeper and deeper into the abyss. He could consider himself lucky if he was not eaten by a cat in two years.

“I went to see Orpheus,” the words came forward with almost no emotions connected to them, however he could see Norton shift uncomfortably in his seat. His frown only deepened and a hint of betrayal flashed through his dark eyes. However, what broke Mike was the tone he spoke afterward. 

“Why…?”

“Because…” he stepped back. “Because I am insanely stupid. There is no other way to explain this.”

It felt like a huge weight was taken off his heart the moment he admitted it. 

“That you are,” Norton nodded, disappointment ringing in his voice. “Do you think I warned you for no reason? That man is not dangerous in the way you think he is…”

“I’ve noticed,” he hung his head. “But what should I have done? You refused to tell me anything and he seemed to know something and the more time passed the more urging it became, yet the more I asked you the harsher you tried to detour the conversations as if you had things to hide!”

Norton heaved a long and suffering sigh.

“Maybe you should have just waited until I felt like telling you. Have you considered that option on your tiny birdbrain?”

“As if you would… You did not even tell me why Orpheus was bad! You just kept going around with your heavy silences, and the scoffing! Every time I asked you something just scoffed as if it was obvious! Well, it was not!”

“Don’t even dare to point your feathers at me. I told you he was dangerous, that should have been enough for you. Why do I have to explain everything?!”

“Because you kept saying that Patricia was bad too… And Keigan! And they are both nice people who just want to help you. You just can’t see it because you are a stubborn ass! I am not sure if you have noticed but your description of bad is a little bit screwed. How should I have known that Orpheus was truly bad if you never told me your reason for hating him?!”

Scoffing, Norton leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. Mike could see that he was struggling to keep his thoughts to himself because his fingers dug into his arms. 

“Just the way you wouldn’t tell me what happened there. I think we are even,” he managed at last, frowning, then he saw the crest on Mike’s head falling in defeat. 

“How could you even know?! Every time I look at you I remember what I did, how I chatted so easily only to realise that everything I have said will be used against me at one point or another. And the worst feeling of all I cannot even make things right, because how do I apologise for this?!”

He expected Norton to stand up and leave him alone with the inner chaos that kept rushing through his entire body every time he started a new sentence and got more and more tangled in the events of the past.

Suddenly, the chair’s legs screeched against the floor as Norton pushed himself away from the table, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared in the door. 

Mike could hear him rummaging, something falling to the ground with a loud thud before Norton returned to the room, his hair more dishevelled than before. A red book was slid in front of Mike’s feet as the man took his seat again.

Mike took a step back to look at the book. It was covered by a red and coarse fabric, dark hands reached up towards a silhouette of a man who was falling towards them while also trying to grab onto the letters above him. Going up towards the top of the book, he saw the title “Song from Below” printed with a golden embossing above it, a name that made the feathers stand on his back. He stared at the book in confusion, opening the front cover with his beak, turning the few pages he could lift without crumpling the thin yellowed paper, but Mike was not able to piece together why the book was important enough to be brought to their table. 

The name Will Duncan often appeared on the pages, but no matter how many pages he had skimmed through Norton’s goal remained a mystery in front of him. 

Looking up in confusion, he took a step back from the book. 

“I am not even going to ask how much Orpheus told you about me, because I know half of that was fiction he made up in his brain,” Norton stated, leaning forward. “But I’ll have to ask you to forget everything that man said. He not only distorts the stories he hears but he has mastered the art of leaving out key details. If you want to know the truth, then you will get the truth... Eventually. And it is going to happen on my terms.” 

Mike languidly nodded. For once he was grateful that his body was restrictive when it came to showing his emotions. Norton just stated that he won’t talk about his past, not yet at least, which is already better than the answers Mike had gotten so far.

“Then what about your hatred for DeRoss?”

Another sigh escaped Norton’s lips. Mike could see that he was looking at the dirty dishes, probably wondering if they could provide an escape route from this situation, but eventually he just shook his head, running his hand through his bangs. 

“You know, you can be the best workforce the world has ever seen, but in this country one mistake is enough to sour your name and have you blacklisted for a life. Those who have considered me an agreeable fellow until that day, all turned their backs to me the moment my face became like this.”

“Oh come on, you keep saying this as if you look ugly now,” Mike piped in, however this time he just earned a scornful look. It was Norton’s turn to talk and he took no detours that would lengthen the discussion.

“Despite my recommendations, nobody would work with me. No matter how many mines I helped with, how many of my employers were satisfied by my work and thoroughness, they all saw my current state as an indicator of my knowledge.” clenching his fist. Mike had never even imagined that rejection would affect Norton so much. Bit by bit, he started to understand why he refused to share this part of his life and why he wanted to thread forward so vehemently without letting others pry into his past. “Mines would not employ me because of my history, factories and other places just saw my face and decided that I’d not fit into their perfect work environment because I scared their workers. I was penniless, but somehow when I was at my lowest, he appeared. Orpheus DeRoss waltzed into my home as if he knew me. That should have been a warning sign, but I went into his little interview. He asked me, and I willingly answered everything once he showed me the money. I should have known better not to trust someone who glowed against the soot and dirt that surrounded the entire settlement, yet at the time I couldn’t care less.”

“Did he pay a lot?”

“What do you think got me this place…? He also recommended me publishing,” There was a pang of regret in his voice as he looked at the bird. Something in that moment clicked in Mike’s mind, as he finally took a few steps away from the edge of the table, slowly closing the distance between him and Norton. The more he listened to the other side of the story, Orpheus presented him like something out of a research, the more he realised just how messy this whole web of connections became. 

“When I first started at Keigan’s, I was really happy to review his books. After all this man helped me, I might as well write a few good words about his works.” he said bitterly, laughing at his own foolishness. “You can imagine my face when I saw that his next book is about a poor miner whose common sense was taken away by a monster feeding on his greed until he destroyed everything around himself… When I confronted him about this he just laughed–”

“And he accepted your terms on bribery,” Mike noted, finally seeing the pain come to the surface. It seemed that his point surprised even Norton as he probably never thought about how easily Orpheus went into their little game without ever reporting him to the authorities. Norton could have tried to bring his case in front of the law, but with no way to prove that the story of his life was used for profit it would have ended with Orpheus winning and him having to pay. 

The man slumped in his chair at the realisation, muttering a curse under his breath. To use and be used. Up until now, it did not occur to him that Orpheus had also been using him while using the false image of annoyance in his presence. The money he had paid was probably just small pocket money compared to his wealth, but he could amuse himself with the struggles of a country bumpkin. Norton swore again, this time a bit louder then soon his attention was back on the bird sitting in front of him.

“And what have you told him? Or should we wait until his royal highness publishes it so we can discuss the similarities?”

“It’s better if I tell you. I think. Except there is a liiiiittle bit of problem on that side.”

“And that problem is?” Norton raised a brow, leaning closer. 

“Well first of all, have you ever had a sore throat that prevented you from talking, like you had a spiky ball stuck in there? Something that always came at the worst time possible, but you couldn’t even communicate you have a problem so people think you are messing with them?”

“More than once, yes.”

“Now imagine a magical sore throat that appears every time you try to tell something important that might help everyone around you, especially you, but you cannot.”

“Let me guess... That bastard figured out a way to get information out of you, but you cannot tell what that information was.” Mike nodded ruefully. The way Norton said it, made him regret his own stupidity even more than before. 

“You just wrote it off as me goofing around by opening my beak,” Mike reminded Norton bitterly and how easily the poet wrote off his desperate attempts. “But it seemed Orpheus saw a way to get through the language barrier, so you might finally see the story in publishing… If you ever end up bashing it, I’d like to read your review.”

“You are telling me this like you don’t plan on sticking around for that long.” 

“Well, I betrayed your trust.”

“You absolutely did.” Norton nodded with an expressionless face.

“And I caused you trouble.”

“More than one occasion, yes.”

“So I'm not sure why you would want to keep me around after this one. You could just grab me and throw me against the wall in anger, and I’d accept my fate.”

The last sentence seemed to catch Norton off guard. While he would never deny that at times he felt the urge to drown Mike in a spoonful of water the idea of turning these violent thoughts never occurred to him. 

Massaging the bridge of his nose, still feeling the hardened tissues in his skin left behind by the memory of his nose piercing. He really wanted to know where Mike got the strange ideas in his head. Something told him, most of them are connected to Orpheus in one way or another and it was only matter of time before the seeds of doubt grew into misunderstandings. After all, that man just knew how to drag a honeyed string in front of people and paint realistic monsters on the walls while they are distracted.

However, instead of putting the blame on someone else, Norton just sighed again.

“I can’t believe you would think that after everything you’ve put me through, I’d just hurt you for no reason. Do you really take me as a brainless brute who answers weeks of nagging and torturing with a swift ending? Besides, it's not like I did not expect you to go to Orpheus, you love listening to your own voice far too much for that,” he shook his head. Lies came out surprisingly easily when they were white as the first snow of the year, only created to soothe the road between the two of them.

“I do not!”

“You do.”

“I do not.”

“Look who keeps continuing to talk even now,” He said as the corners of his lips were pulled into a faint smile. ”And I am disappointed that you did not use your chance to make up the wildest story you could on the spot to mess with him. Instead, he will just write down someone else’s story again.”

“Well, next time you won’t be all mystical about why I should not speak with someone so I am not going to try and talk my way out of getting caged.”

This made Norton flinch a little as he leaned forward in his chair. Mike did not miss the anger that flashed through those dark eyes. But knowing where that anger was aimed at made him feel at ease even if his little slip up would invite more questions in the future.

“I’ll be the one to cage you if you keep acting so recklessly,” Norton warned him, his voice carrying little to no weight.

“Do it. You wouldn’t dare and it’s not like you have the money for a proper birdcage.”

“Then I know what I’ll buy from my next pay check.” Norton answered without batting an eye as he pushed his chair back and collected the plate and the teacup. Washing them away could wait until morning, he just couldn’t muster any willpower to start it and the flood of thoughts and information were too loud to focus on a monotone task. 

Looking back at the small bird helplessly sitting on his table, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else to this story, something that connected everything with a complicated web of relations. 

Chapter Text

Even the next day, the rain still continued its war against them, leaving traces of its petrichor perfume through the entire town, repeatedly lulling people into the belief that the grey clouds were about to drift away only for the raindrops to hit the ground again. 

Yet anyone would agree that the gentle drizzle created a serene atmosphere fitting for that time of morning when most people would still turn to their other side. However, the romantic mood completely went past the poet, who made his way through the small park, his sheer expression scaring people away from his general direction. The bird on his shoulder was the complete opposite, tiredly pulling his neck in until it disappeared in the soft ball of feathers, making look more like a toy than a small animal. The corners of the soft part of his beak were pulled into a smile as he closed his eyes. However, the moment Norton noticed this he shook his shoulders until the bird was forced to grip into his coat to prevent falling from his perch.

“Would you stop it?!” a wing forcefully hit Norton in the face before the movement was followed by a rueful yelp that echoed in the empty park. “And now you hit yourself again… Well deserved!”

“Why can’t you leave me sleeping? I almost fell because of you, brute!” he kept complaining as he climbed back to his original spot and pulled on the stray strands he could reach with his beak. 

“If I can’t sleep, neither can you,” Norton growled back, finally sweeping the bird away from his face. 

“You are the working member of society, while I am just a bird. Therefore I sleep whenever I want,” he yawned again, pulling his wing in front of his beak.

“Whenever you have to do something, you are suddenly a bird,” Norton noted impassively. “Would be nice to trade places for one day.” 

“You would regret it the moment you saw how big everything is. Danger on every corner, I swear,” Mike chirped back at him, before he lifted his wing and held it towards the end of the street. “Now pick up your pace if you don’t want to get murdered by Keogh.”

Norton just huffed at his antics as he readjusted the umbrella above their head, walking forward in silence as the urge to cough burned the fibers of his lung. He was truly not allowed to rest for a bit, did he? 

It seemed that the war against the gloomy weather was completely lost in the office and everyone ended up succumbing to it. Only Patricia kept alive the warmth with her desk lamp, a faint smile playing on her lips as she wrote up the titles and authors of the books that arrived barely an hour ago, the package avoided the rain by some sheer miracle so she already thanked her luck for saving her from more paperwork and damage reports.. 

As if to avoid further confrontations, this time Norton instinctively shook the water off his umbrella before stepping into the lobby, earning a satisfied hum from the woman as her attention travelled back to the list in front of her, opening the next, rather thin and cheap looking book only to push the inked stamp down on its first page. 

The cursed Ex Libris of the publisher that prevented reselling the books that were sent to them for reviewing. A workflow she was quite proud of after catching him red handed once as he tried to get rid of a book at the first second hand seller. Norton wondered if she did the same with every page of a manuscript in case someone tried to make money from the raw texts and unpublished drafts from popular works. He had seen more and more of them disappear after going through her hands with no place to take a second glance at them after Keigan gave her approval. 

“Good morning to you too,” she spoke after she decided that Norton will not greet her. “The bird stays here.”

“He can stay in my bag just fine.”

“Yeah, and that will be the moment I get your rear kicked for animal cruelty.” she sighed, pushing her chair back. The difference in height always annoyed her when she was arguing with people and having to look up to the man clad in green seemingly made him stubborn and condescending. Walking around her desk, she gently took the bird off his shoulder. “You can get him back after you finish your discussion with Mrs. Keogh. Until then he can help me with paperwork.”

Norton looked at the bird with a betrayed expression, opening his mouth to speak, before he seemingly had a change of heart and his words eventually manifested themselves as a frown directed towards Mike. 

“Fine…” he muttered at last, giving one last glance at the bird before he decided to disappear in the dim hallway that led to the smaller workrooms and Keigan’s office. 

Mike’s small neck stretched until the connected layer of feathers spread and his light pink skin was visible beneath. He wanted to make sure that he won’t suddenly have his cover blown by a sudden idea or another spark of argument that can make Norton return to the reception desk. As much as he hated going around behind his back, this time it felt like a necessary thing to do and unlike in Orpheus’s case he was doing this to help a friend.

It was nothing more than a little white lie, he thought to himself. A secret only him and Patricia shared for the sake of helping him. There was not a single hint of regret in his heart when he took these goals into consideration. 

His attention was only dragged back to reality when Patricia sat back in her chair

“You know, I can’t believe I am saying this but Mr. Doom and Gloom looked surprisingly happy for a man who can kill with his stare.” she chuckled to herself. “What is your secret?”

“The bluebird of happiness does not share his secrets,” Mike shook his head, gesturing with his wings. “But since you asked me this way, I can tell that apparently arguing with him works. I even managed to get him to cook something for himself that is not toast. Imagine that!”

He chirped proudly, carefully omitting the key details about the heart attack he just gave to Norton several hours prior to that discussion. 

“Who would have known…Are you sure you don’t want to take your residence with me instead? Living on toast sounds utterly horrible.”

Mike just shook his head.

“And to miss the sight of Norton burning down his kitchen? Please. You look far too collected so I doubt that you need the help of a bird like me.”

“Sometimes it would be nice. A little bird to keep me company and remind me of what’s important. A friendship straight out of a fairy-tale,” she said as she opened another book, putting the stamp of their company right below the title page and another stamp of the inside of its back cover for extra measurements against thrifty borrowers who would tear the first page out. 

Sitting under the table lamp, his crest threw a long shadow over the table as Mike watched the same movements with several more books.

Open, close. open, close, write, repeat. 

The process of Patricia's work completely mesmerized him.

Then suddenly the movements stopped and he gave the woman a confused look.

“Would you like to help me?”

“Me? How?” Mike asked quietly.

“Just read the authors and the titles of the book’s I’ve stamped. It will make things faster and you will have something to do. So how about it?”

“Sure!”

Maybe it was the thought of finally being useful, Mike happily hopped over the stack where the books usually ended up, waiting for the next book to be stamped. 

If Norton knew what he was up to while he was fighting for his life in Keigan’s office, he would surely murder him. But something told him that compared to his previous missteps, he would get away with a string of curses, maybe in the worst case, he would get an afternoon of silent treatment. Shaking away his doubts he did what he was told, eagerly waiting for a new book to land in front of him so Patricia could fill out the details on her list, scribbling down names, titles and the day the book was taken into their inventory.

What none of them noticed was the shadow lurking in the back of the office, pacing between two rooms, occasionally opening one of the doors as if he was considering something, before closing it and continuing the cycle. 

Mike closed his beak, waiting if the silhouette came closer, remaining silent. Just as he had suspected, eventually, the shadow stopped and changed course, heading to Patricia’s desk just as she was about to start a new book. Almost immediately Mike closed his beak, keeping up his usual facade in front of the newcomer.

Patricia on the other hand was not surprised in the slightest, she closed the book and looked at the man standing in front of her. His usual red hat was probably in his workshop, drying near the heater after he got caught in the rain just an hour ago, his cheeks had black smears from the ink he was working with and the same blackness could be found on the tip of his fingers.

“I am done,” that was the first sentence he uttered, desperation seeping through his words. “I am absolutely, utterly, done.”

Mike immediately remembered the man who went on and on about illustrations the first time he entered this building, although back then he was locked into a small bag and had no chance to perceive his surroundings in any other way but to listen. Compared to how cocky the man sounded, he seemed almost depressed. The dark circles under his eyes told Mike the tale of several all-nighters, and while his hair was tied together into a ponytail, the strands were slightly tangled crying after the comb that was probably left out from the man’s morning routine. 

“And I still cannot help you, Edgar,” Patricia deadpanned. Never even bothering to look at the man in front of her. “You were the one who took the commission for that book.”

“I did but nobody told me it will be this bad,” he huffed, pacing around the desk. “The entire premise is so bad it sparks literally zero images in my mind, its blank. Everything is blank like my canvas in the workroom! I tried reading it several times, but it just left me with the feeling of being undeserving of my work. I cannot muster the strength to create anything for this garbage!”

“You took the job so stop whining.”

“I took the job and I want to give it back, thank you. It’s a waste of resources and talent and have I mentioned time? Because yes, time too. There are so many better things to work on and I cannot because Freddy Riley’s awful novel is sitting on my desk, the scenes keep playing in my head like a twisted version of an Austen novel! Can I get a children’s book instead? How about a translation someone was talking about? At this point–” His mouth opened to another sentence, but suddenly Edgar stopped, his eyes stopping on the small blue bird that sat on Patricia’s desk and did his best to stay unmoving to avoid gathering any more attention on himself. 

“Is this yours?”

“What?”

“The bird. I’ve never seen it before.”

“He belongs to Campbell.”

This statement made him raise his brows in question, before his lips turned into a grimace. 

“Campbell? Like that Campbell? That country bumpkin? No way! He couldn’t even keep a cactus alive let alone a bird.” he looked at Patricia in disbelief.

“Yet there he is. Alive and well.” Patricia shrugged, visibly getting fed up with the discussion, however she did not voice her thoughts in order to avoid further arguments.

“And if you want to see me alive tomorrow, you will let me borrow the bird.”

“I can’t let you borrow him because he is not mine.”

“Oh come on, he won’t leave the office!” Edgar kept going and going. Being forced to stay silent, Mike tilted his head, looking at him with a questioning gaze. He had nothing against the idea of being drawn, at the same time, he had to wonder how differently people can treat someone based on appearances. 

At the look of it, he was just an avian creature, a small bird that shared features with swifts and swallows with his wide beak, but happened to get some features from their woodland relatives. Aside from his colours that could have been easily connected to parrots, there was nothing original about his looks and yet, he had people fight over him like he was a mythical unicorn.

His claws tapping against the wooden table, he eventually tiptoed to the side of the distressed artist, trying to mimic the parrots he had seen in his childhood, bopping his head to get some attention on himself.

Patricia just huffed at Mike’s antics as she kept shaking her head,

“Your owner will kill us both,” she hissed at the bird and she was sure that though the limits of his beak, Mike was smiling.

He was smiling knowing that the exact thing would happen.

* * *

Standing in Keigan’s office always made Norton remember the times his father decided that education was needed in his life despite being the son of a miner and a bal maiden. Those old days of leaving in the morning only to sit through the day and listen to some old man trying to teach him how to write his own name and count apples with the hope that some of this knowledge will stick. Said old man also hated him for being stubborn, so he ended up standing in the corner way more than he dared to admit. 

The office barely changed since his first visit. Keigan still sat at her desk, surrounded by the silence of books and certificates as she skimmed through the pages Norton handed to her. After his initial success, he was sure that he had found the right way to put words next to each other in a way that he would be deemed worthy of more royalties after his works. The anticipation made his entire body freeze in place, only to be disturbed by his occasional coughs and sneezes that kept torturing his body since yesterday. . 

Eventually, Keigan looked up over her crescent shaped glasses, her brows raising a bit higher as she looked over the man clad in green. 

“One of these can go to publication,” she gave the verdict as she signed one of the pages Norton handed over and pushed the stamp on the last one. The rest landed on the other side of the table with a soft thud. “These are rubbish.”

“Those are poems just as the one that got approved.” Norton tried to fight back, but the woman just shook her head in disappointment. Probably wondering if Norton was pretending to be dense whenever the talk was about written art.

“Indeed, they are poems just as you have said, however simply being poems does not mean they are good. The one that got my approval reached the level required for publication, the rest did not.” she spoke slowly, treading carefully in the murky waters knowing it well that one wrong word can sour the entire conversation. “Mr. Campbell, when I rate works, I always try to keep in mind what an individual is capable of and how they utilize their experiences. The rejection of your previous works did not come from a place of dislike, but rather the lack of use of your own potential. I’ve seen what you are capable of but this on my table? Does not worth a penny. The only use these papers have left is to be put in a bird cage.”

The man in front of him grew redder by the moment, opening his mouth to say something only to close it in disbelief. Shaking her head, Keigan tapped the good poem with the tip of her manicured index finger. “I am not sure who told you this, Mr. Campbell, but contrary to the popular belief poems are not just words put next to each other in order to create a good sounding rhyme.”

“They are not—-” he tried to fight back, his breathing becoming visibly strained the more he tried to hold himself back. “Those poems were written the same way my previous ones were.”

Lowering her gaze, Keigan looked at him above the rim of her glasses, her shapely eyebrows raising to her forehead.

“Are you sure, Mr. Campbell? Because I am pretty sure they all lack something called a heart. Your previous poems were devoid of emotions, the rhymes were forced into existence because they had to exist by your rules, but this one here, it perfectly fills the role of what a poem is supposed to be.” She talked matter of factly, the small pauses between sentences were filled by the cold sound of rain hitting the window behind her.

What a poem was supposed to be…

Norton did his best to understand what she was getting at, but maybe he was truly just an uncivilized miner, too dirty for this kind of society, because no matter how hard he thought about it, he just could not grasp what she meant by heart. After all, all of his poems sprung from the same source. Personal experiences and emotions were not foreign concepts for him and yet…

What differentiated one poem from another, when he failed to see the difference itself…?

Sensing that he had gotten lost in the maze of his own thoughts the woman in front of her cleared her throat, pushing her chair back from the table as she slowly stepped closer to her bookshelf. Among the colourful spines, gaudy golden letters she pulled out a small brown book. Not even turning her head when Norton’s body hunched over in a fit of coughs as his lungs burned themselves. Keigan turned the pages in silence as she waited for the fit to lessen before she walked to the man, who kept hitting his own chest with his fist as if that could lessen the pain he had felt. 

Anyone would have asked about the poet’s health, however she knew it better than to bring up occasional weaknesses. 

“Joseph Skipsey. A remarkable man who could help you. He used to be a pitman at the beginning of his career, working in the coalfield of England so his occupation serves as the centre of his poetry, as well as a certain mining disaster. While his ars poetica differs a lot, he might serve as some sort of guidance with your own style,” she let the corners of her lips hitch into a faint smile as she handed the book to the poet. 

Norton’s hands were shaking. Did Keigan mock him? Did she truly think that poems written by a fellow miner would help him?! Or was that just a cruel joke she made without showing the smallest of remorse?

The bitter mixture of stress and anger finally merged together in his heart, ruining his previously collected composure. Disgusted by his own childish thoughts, he quickly forced his attention on the book, looking at the cover as if he was interested in it, before he quickly closed the pages and gripped the spine.

“I’ll make sure to read it,” he pushed the words through his teeth. 

“May it be useful for you in the end,” Keigan nodded as she walked back to her chair, sitting down to her throne behind the castle of paperwork. “Since we are at it, I also have a proposal regarding your writing that might spark your interest, however I’d like to remind you that it can only be fulfilled if you manage to give me the quality of work I am expecting from a man of your calibre…”

Her sentences made Norton raise his head from the poems he started reading as a way to survive. Awkwardly closing the book, he waited for Keigan to continue speaking.

“I am thinking about putting together an anthology themed around the heart. Not necessarily love, of course, rather its theme should revolve around emotions connected to various states of a human heart and soul. The poem you have submitted today would be a good addition, so my proposal is the following…” she took a pause, making sure that Norton was listening to her. “Seven poems. I’d like to get seven poems by the end of spring. If their quality is as good as the one you are taking to Mrs. Dorval then you will be allowed to publish them in the book.”
“What will I gain from this?” Norton asked hesitantly. He knew it well, but wanted to hear it from Keigan herself.

“Recognition, a name for yourself,” she looked at Norton. “And of course, money.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Norton said, almost exclaiming as he turned around with a nod, his mind already counting the honorary fee he would be getting for a proper book. His hand was already on the door handle when he heard Keigan’s clear her throat behind him.

“Also Mr. Campbell?” he looked back impatiently. “I’d like to ask you to get some rest for today. Focus on your work instead of traveling in this weather.”

Norton nodded, not even registering the words of worry directed at him as he closed the door behind him. 

Sighing, Keigan leant back in her chair, letting the headrest keep her weight. She would be lying if she said discussions like this with Norton Campbell did not test her patience. The man was stubborn, wilful, putting his own hurt in the limelight and using it as a wall to shield himself from the world. Someone who was branded as a criminal by the public, yet refused to act like it, even denying the certain patterns that came along with a look like his. Sure, she had seen him bite back, but it was more of a defence reaction than a will to act. After all, men are no different than dogs when they are cornered.

Lowering her gaze to the door the miner had closed, she couldn’t help but smile a little, because even though Campbell was downright impossible to work with at times, the possibilities that were hidden behind the tar and dirt were starting to shine, bit by bit. The process somehow sped up in the last few days…

Alas, before that could happen, he needed to realize that not everyone is out to backstab him, which was, based on her experiences in the courtroom, will be a long and tedious process.

* * *

The moment Norton left the room, his back hit the wall, almost knocking off the low-hanging painting of a winter village. The facade he managed to keep up in Keigan’s office immediately scattered like a house of cards when nobody could see him. His legs were shaking and he felt more exhausted than ever as another fit of coughs rocked his entire body, burning up his tired lungs. 

Taking small breaths to ease the weight on his lungs, he let himself sink against the wall shaking his head to regain focus. Nobody should see him like this, like a mess who can’t even stand straight for an hour without giving in to his own weakness! 

Hitting his knees as if to make his legs work again, Norton finally pushed himself away from the small painting and decided that he managed to collect himself enough to face another round of forced smiles and facades. 

Except when he finally made his way back to the lobby, he was immediately hit by an uncharacteristic silence. Patricia was still working on cataloguing the recent arrivals, occasionally frowning at the title or an author she was not familiar with, the quiet tapping sound of the typewriters coming from a small room in the back filling out silent silence with a rhythmical melody. 

His eyes immediately searched for a blue ball of feathers, the pesky parasite that kept haunting his waking moments, but Patricia’s desk was empty of his presence. Mike was not hopping around, nor pretending to be a nuisance, he was simply gone from the woman’s care and she seemingly did not care about this fact.

“Mike?” he walked up to her, not even bothering with formalities. Even if he did not want to admit out loud, he was worried and this translated directly into his actions as he kept looking at the desk and behind the towers Patricia built behind herself. “Where is Mike?”

“In the artist’s workshop. Edgar kept whining about the need to paint him or else he would die in a slump tomorrow,” she stated, her face remaining stoic. “Obviously, I couldn’t have said no to the plea of a dying noble who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth… Even if his permanent absence would brighten the world.” 

Norton did not listen to her, he was already storming through the room, following the sound of machinery thrumming in the background, pushing out page after page only for it to be taken to the next stage of publishing when enough copies were collected in the small tray for the printing worker to collect.

However, Norton did not notice his co-workers, like a madman who shook away his last pieces of sanity, he went past them, steps echoing heavily in the hallway. He only saw one goal in mind, the hazy glass of the door where Edgar Valden kept his negatives, engravings and other visual works Keigan had ordered from him. 

Maybe it was the fever taking the best of him, without him noticing, but his mind focused on the sole goal of getting Mike back at all cost. Anger took over his mind as he tore the door open, only to be met with a cold glare from the painter. Almost as if someone had poured a bucket of ice on his head, Norton halted not really knowing how to convey the emotions that kept swirling in the chaos of his mind.

“I’d like to get back my bird,” he awkwardly managed eventually, legs shaking from exhaustion.

“No. I am not done yet.” he said, making another brush stroke on the canvas. “Do you seriously think I believe that you could keep a pet like this? This bird probably costs a fortune.”

“He is mine and you are done with him when I say so,” Norton raised his voice. “Which is now.”

“I hope you know that I can get you fired for talking back at me and I won’t hesitate to do so if you keep opening your filthy mouth.” Edgar shot back, his brush still working on the small feathers on the replica of the bird.

Mike pulled his head between his wings in fear when their screaming contest reached a level that hurt his ears. He hated arguments ever since he was a little kid. Even if the words were not directed at him, they mauled his heart, bringing up memories that he would rather forget, making him shiver uncomfortably as everything he had kept buried decided to resurface. He felt his body freeze, unable to move as the words flew over his head.

Both sides scared him.

Both sides uttered words that should have never left their mouth.

However, he only wanted to be close to one of them. 

Spreading his wings, he ungracefully waddled in the air, fighting hard to keep his wings straight as he glided towards Norton. Landing against his legs, his small claws digging into the pleated pants until they hit the man’s skin. 

The pain served as a wakeup call. Suddenly, the shouting contest ended and in the next moment two hands gently wrapped around his body lifting him up to his usual perch. He felt torn about the actions.

He wouldn’t deny that he felt happy about the way Norton reacted to his absence. Nobody ever got into a fight over him so it was due time that he experienced the sensation of someone throwing hands over his small being.

What bothered him was the way it happened and how the blind rage was directed at someone who could have served as an ally in the future. 

He hoped that upon returning, Norton would get into a casual discussion with the artist, maybe even exchange ideas… Shaking his head, he gently pulled on his hair, yanking on his dark strands until he earned a hiss from the man. 

No talk, he reminded himself as he opened his beak to scold him for ruining a perfect portrait of his blue self. The pain seemed to work because in the next moment Norton just scoffed in annoyance and turned towards the door, still gripping his only accepted poem like his life depended on it. 

Norton only seemed to relax when they finally left the office. Standing in the small arc, protected from the downpour he fiddled with his umbrella to the point he let out a string of foreign curse words when the object finally opened at the cost of pinching his thumb. 

Mike was aware that he had a temper, yet the sudden yell made him flinch in his usual spot, his feathers standing on his back as Norton swore to throw the umbrella out once he got home. It would have been comical if his heart was not filled with worry when he saw how much the man struggled. His cheeks gradually grew redder over the course of the day and now it almost looked as if he had trouble walking. Massaging the bridge of his nose, he frowned as he started walking. 

“You know, the only thing you will throw today is your body into the bed, Mr. He is mine.”

“I did not say such things.”

“You were ready to start a fist fight,” Mike teased him.

“I don’t need much reason to punch that man.”

“Does not change the fact that this time, you wanted to get into a fight over humble little old me,” Mike chirped. His words made Norton stop on his track as he glanced at the small blue bird proudly puffing up his feathers on his shoulder.

“Humble, huh… Where is this humble bird you are speaking of, I’d like to meet him?”

His reward was an angry pull on his hair and a peck on his earlobe. Rubbing the aching skin, he felt like sweeping the pesky parasite off his shoulder, but in the end he just heaved a deep suffering sigh as he left the small arc way and stepped back into the rainy street. 

Chapter Text

The next two days passed without Norton truly noticing it. 

He woke up, forced himself to skim a few pages in Orpheus’s disastrous book, made some notes, put the bare minimum into his body when a pesky bird kept commenting on his health and he couldn’t bear hearing his screeching anymore. Not long after, he fell asleep again only waking up at an ungodly hour to repeat the same pattern. The events of his days slowly melted together as his body finally took revenge for the years of torture it had to endure and landed him on the cold duvet only moving when he absolutely had to. Observing the passage of time was something he had completely forgotten to do when he was more focused on washing his fabric tissues in boiling water and drowning out the annoying bird’s constant complaining.

Because for Mike, nothing he did was truly good and the small bird made a bigger fuss about him refusing to rest than the failed marriage attempt he had suffered through. Wherever he went the bird kept tiptoeing in his wake, his small claws clicked and clacked against the wooden floor until Norton grew annoyed by the repetitive sounds and picked up the small animal, carrying him around the house as if it was his duty. 

Eventually, he became tired of sitting at his desk so he dragged the book and the typewriter to the couch, lying it on his stomach as he got into a more comfortable position. He did not intend to have Mike with him, but just when he was about to start typing down his thoughts, he heard the familiar sound and something tearing into furniture, making a barely audible noise as the seams were ripped, leaving tiny imprints on the thick light brown fabric. Suddenly he felt a beak bite into his shirt, trying to repeat the same attempt to climb further.

“You just have to ask,” Norton growled as he grabbed the small bird with one hand and dropped him next to the machine on his stomach.

“And would you help me if I asked?”

“No.”

“What a knight!” Mike tilted his head. “Grand of someone who was taken care of by little old me.”

Finally Norton’s fingers stopped on the bulky buttons of his typewriter as he looked at the bird, his gaze both confused and irritated.

“You mean the nagging I had to endure for two days? You even wanted to follow me to the bathroom.”

“Because you kept bumping into everything like a drunkard. What if you hit your head? What if you died on the toilet?” 

“As if you could help me in case that happens.”

“At least, I could mourn you accordingly.” Mike countered earning a cold stare from Norton as he just went back to type out his thoughts about the next bestseller of Orpheus, making sure to include every negative thought and idea that he had while he read through every third page in his grand epic. He knew that the man would pay the bribe anyway, so eventually he would have to use a much kinder, honeyed version, but in his current foul mood, negativity flew better.

Mike read the sentences as they appeared on the yellowed paper, his crest perking up when a word mainly used by sailors appeared in front of him.

“I hope you know if you send this to Keigan, she is going to kick you out of the office so fast your feet won’t touch the ground until you reach the streets,” he commented, rereading the sentence again to make sure he was seeing right. Norton just groaned in response as the words kept appearing at a rhythmic pace. “You know, maybe you should finally sit down with that book she gave you. There is absolutely no reason to torture yourself with subpar writing if all you can do is… that…”

“No.”

“Look, that book is just calling for you, begging on your desk to read it instead of doing whatever this is. Norton, what if you accidentally bring this to Keigan? Huh? What then?” Mike climbed through his chest as he spoke, his weight barely pushing down the letters on the typewriter that made soft clicks as he proceeded. Wordlessly he grabbed the side of the paper with his beak, trying to yank it from its place, before a hand embraced him from two sides and lifted him back to his original place.

“Can you just sit still?” he growled. “I am really not in the mood to care for a feathery toddler right now.”

His words seemed to reach the desired effect, because in the next moment Mike pecked his neck, making Norton’s entire body flinch from pain. He quickly reached for the heavy metal machine before it had a chance to slip away from his stomach and fall into pieces on the floor. 

“I wish I could put you in a cage…” Norton eventually muttered to himself as he went back to write out his thoughts, fingers tapping more angrily than before. 

“Oh come on, you know you wouldn’t,” Mike teased him, “You love me far too much to do that. After all, I am yours, aren’t I?”

Norton just scoffed as he went back to writing.

Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t breathe properly from the cold and he had spent the past few days running on insomnia and fever, but for some reason, the statement made his heart squirm uncomfortably in his chest. A feeling that has never really reared its head near him and suddenly decided to choose the worst possible time for an introductory visit. 

As the bird spoke, his words were so human, so clear that if Norton closed his eyes he might even believe that the curse that stood between them like an unclimbable mountain was finally gone. Even if he could see the glimpses of what could be through the shimmering glass, he was unable to obtain that future for himself. 

The bitter words eventually stopped appearing on paper as the next letter stood still, the keys barely touching the ink ribbon to make a dent. Before he had a chance to stop himself, his thoughts were completely driven away from his task at hand. 

From the corner of his eyes he looked at the small blue bird that eagerly awaited for the next swear that would appear on paper. How could such a small thing have this much of an impact?

Sighing to himself, he set the typewriter on the ground with a metallic clang as the letters shook in their place, before throwing the book on the ground in a much harsher manner. Mike ruffled his feathers at the sudden movement, but remained silent when he noticed Norton reaching for the thin cover blanket that was on his legs until now. 

“You should go to your bed if you want to sleep, you know,” the small bird commented. 

“Not in the mood.”

“Your back will hurt and you will be complaining like a grandpa who is standing half-foot in the coffin,” Mike tried again, pulling on his hair as Norton found a comfortable position for his neck on the sofa’s armrest, pushing the small pillow from his bedroom beneath his back with half of his hand as the small bird tried to find a safe spot in the constant movements. At least this way his lungs were not burning up and he did not feel the need to cough almost every five minutes. That was already a win in his book.

Mike did not say anything, just sat on his chest, his body rising and falling with each breath Norton took.

“What did Keigan tell you about your poems?” he asked eventually.

“Safe for one all of them were rubbish,” came the short reply as Norton closed his eyes. “But she said if I can write a few more I might make some money.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that, which is weird considering how the first thing I learned about you is that you are a stingy man who shamelessly flirts with every money making possibility.”

“The topic is bullshit,” Norton muttered to himself, refusing to open his eyes, the light pouring in from the window just made his head ache more. “Do I look like a romantic poet?”

“Eh? Do you have to?” Mike cocked his head to the side, hopping closer. “I know you can write sappy lines if you want to, you just need to stop holding yourself back. And no, I know you will say that as a miner you had no time for romances and that you are not equipped to write that or what not, but what if that’s what Keigan wants from you.”

“What?” This made Norton raise his head to squint at the bird. “I doubt she does. This is just another scheme to get me fired.”

“I think she knows you more than you think,” Mike chirped back confidently. “Or else she would not keep you around or give you all of these opportunities to prove yourself. And before you say it, you are pretty well loved compared to the squirrel, even if you are an insufferable prick sometimes.”

“Alreet. You are really pulling my leg there.” Norton closed his eyes, a faint smirk playing on his lips. 

“I am only pulling your hair, after all, I am but a bird.” Mike joked. “Anyway, I don’t think she is expecting you to become the next William Blake… Maybe it’s more along the lines of being yourself and writing your own thoughts.”

“Why?” His thoughts were a bit hazy as the hours he had lost at night did their best to catch up to him and pay his debts. Tiredly opening his eyes, he could see the bird walking in his chest, eventually settling at a point where he could easily jump off, if Norton started tossing and turning in his sleep.

“Because everyone loves differently. Whether they like it or not.”

The sentence made him open his eyes.

“And how do I love exactly?”

“You? Like a hedgehog,” Mike chuckled when he felt a hand trying to sweep him off in retaliation, Mike flapped with his wing in a desperate attempt to keep himself on the couch. “Now, let me finish! HEY! Campbell, I wear if I fall off I will do something that I’ll regret!”

“You just called me a hedgehog,” Norton growled, words becoming slurred as he gave up fighting against his own fatigue. 

“Well, aren’t you one?! Sweet, loveable… “he started, pulling a honeyed string in front of the poet, before going for the kill, “...but you keep prickling everyone who wants to go near you and you also bite when you are dragged out of your comfort zone.”

“I am not like that,” he answered through his sleep-hazed state, wondering if the first part of the sentence was made up by his mind, before Mike’s reply turned into a muffled and distant echo. Whatever he tried to say remained on his lips as he drifted back to another dream.

He did not see when Mike pulled the blanket with his beak, his tail brushing against his neck as the thick sturdy fabric slowly reached up to his collarbone. Stepping around Norton’s sleeping figure, Mike looked at his work with pride as the edges were evenly arranged, almost like it was something straight out of a picture book.

Nodding to himself, he hopped off from the armrest and ruined the perfection himself as he wedged his small body between the payers, his head reappearing when his tail feathers had completely disappeared under the blanket. 

“You are right.” he muttered to himself. “You are not like a hedgehog. You are a hedgehog. So gentle and so sensitive to criticism, you just lock yourself in your own prison every time someone wants to treat you well and you prickle everyone who wants to hold their hand out for you to help. You tell me that Orpheus is a liar, but when I ask you for the truth, you just curl up again.”

He sighed as he finally sat down, allowing the blanket to weigh down on his back, enjoying the warmth beneath him. Voicing his thoughts seemed to help get his mind in order, so he kept going forward, threading on the road of words that would have been left unsaid. 

“Yep. You might not even notice it, but you are no different than him, except you keep dodging questions instead of changing facts. Because while you never denied that you did something bad, you never told me what happened to you or explained your own reasons. I accepted it by now, but it feels like the more you push it around, the more harmful it becomes and strains your relationships… But then again, who am I to tell you what is good or wrong when I am actively doing the same.”

He halfheartedly expected Norton to answer. To continue the conversation, but all he got was a soft snore with an occasional, hoarse and deeper breath. The clear indicator that the man beneath him had finally fallen asleep.

The soft feathers on his chest rose and fell again as he heaved another sigh. These were thoughts that he wanted to avoid for now, enjoying the present to its fullest even if the cracks on his heart silently spread when the silence finally settled on them. The looming darkness of the future was already lurking around the corner, eating him away bit by bit the more he retained the unnatural and weak form he had imprisoned himself into. 

Maybe a month ago, he would have cared and heeded the warning signs and returned to the forest without hesitation. But there was something about staying here instead of his pristine forest that filled him with glee and happiness he had seldom experienced before. These feelings intoxicated him to the point his mind focused on a sole goal, regardless of what the outcome of his tale will be. 

Even if pain seared though his heart every time he realized that his feelings would always remain locked within his chest. He just couldn’t leave. At least, not until he pushed the stubborn miner into the road of success. 

Chapter Text

Norton never quite recovered from the cold he had caught. He simply had no time to focus on that with the deadlines coming after his rear to take a bite out of him and instead he just let out an annoyed huff and pushed himself forward. The fatigue still lingered in his muscles, making his body more sluggish and preventing him from listening to Mike’s constant chatter as the tall buildings of the town centre slowly got replaced by the remnants of the village that served as its original foundation. Whitewashed walls mixed with the traditional red brick buildings, dotting the road ahead them with their mismatched fences. 

The crocuses and snowdrops that framed the dirt road the last time they walked past were slowly replaced by the true spokes flowers of spring and this time a yellow pavement made of narcissus blooms nodded their heads agreeingly in the spring breeze. The insects seemed to take this as a sign to return from their slumber as those who were not idling around the blooming fruit trees were gathered around Norton’s green coat, bumping against it a few times before flying away in disappointment when they realized that they had been tricked. 

The perfect day for an outing and collecting another check. 

Halting his steps, Norton stretched towards the clear skies, ignoring the bird’s complaints as his feathery body tilted forward dangerously and he had to use his wings and claws to keep himself rooted in the thick green fabric. The topic suddenly changed from talking him out of his initial plans to scold him for being unpredictable. 

Norton couldn’t really care, despite the bird calling him several names when his shoulders finally returned to their original position and the sun could continue warming the cramped muscles in his back.

The past week almost made him forget that the general setting of the British Isles was not the close-knit cloudy blanket permanently keeping the sun away from them and that occasionally the sun graced them with their presence. 

“Noooortoon,” he bird started again, his tone was childish and impatient almost as if every ounce of seriousness he had was left in their dusty home. “Norton, Norton, Norton!”

“That’s my name, alright,” the man nodded, his voice still croaking due to the remnants of his cold and the stuffy nose that refused to leave with the weather. 

“Do you even listen to me?”

“Truth to be told… No, not really.” The man admitted a coy smile playing on his lips as his hands instinctively moved to his hair to protect his strained strands from the pecking. At this point, the playful to and fro became part of their daily routine, annoying each other with remarks until they started barking at each other like two annoyed dogs in the park.

“What if I tried to warn you about an accident coming your way, huh?” Mike cawed at him with faked annoyance. 

“Then it would have happened,” Norton shrugged, his hand still next to his ear, expecting a pack aimed at his earlobe. However, by-passing his defences, suddenly a pair of clawed feet wedged itself into the arms of his white shirt as a blue bird emerged in his face, slowly sliding into a hanging position like a small acrobat. When the shirt was not able to keep him in one place. Norton could feel his skin being scratched as the bird looked at him, upside down only being stopped by the poet’s shoulder. 

“If you dare to go for my face, I’ll throw you in the creek,” the poet frowned, only getting a hum as answer as the bird climbed forward, his beaks grabbing onto the brim of his cap and throwing it off his head. 

Norton blinked as the cap fell to the paved bridge and his dark hair was suddenly exposed to the warmth of spring.

Norton did not shout at him, nor jump after his hat, he just stared at it as it lay in the ground like a beetle on its back, the velvety dark green fabric glistening in the sun. 

“And your goal with this was….?” Norton asked when Mike climbed back to his perch. 

“Hm!” The bird almost chirped as his voice hitched a bit. Hm! was indeed the best way to describe his actions as they served no true purpose or goal, he simply did as a way to grab Norton’s attention and keep it to himself as long as it was necessary.

“Don’t hm to me you devil’s bird!” he huffed, finally reaching for the hat and dusting it off before he put it back to its original place and started walking forward.. “Sometimes you make no damn sense.”

“Neither do you, yet I never comment on it,” Mike chirped back, almost teasing him in a melodic tone with a small chuckle at the end. “You know you don’t have to go back to Orpheus if you don’t want to, right? Nobody is forcing you.”

“I need the money and you know it.”

“You need rest, not money and we both know it.”

“This puts food on the table, so shut it,” Norton argued but Mike could hear his voice waver. He did not believe in his plan either or maybe he just came to the realization that it was never a sustainable system to begin with. All the time he had focused on getting back at the author could have been spent on making connections and climbing the invisible ladder of prestige and status. Except he was far too focused on his own revenge and to get even with a man who seldom cared about his life once he got what he wanted.  

And Norton felt the same way about it. Mike could see how slow he walked, occasionally stopping to just look around, take a deep breath to ease his lungs and pretend that his attention was caught by small details he would have ignored in any other cases. 

“We should visit that sweet shop instead. Eat a slice of cake, you could drink something proper that is not water with a hint of tea,” he murmured to himself before finishing his sentence a bit louder. “I know that you don’t want to go either.”

“It’s not an option,” Norton answered, his voice containing less bite than before. Probably deep down he also knew how childish he was but admitting it was always harder than going through with his original plans. It would mean showing someone weakness and the possibility that he too, felt unsure about his decisions.

Clearing his throat, he just walked forward ignoring Mike’s complaining and his repeated mentions of wanting to eat chocolate and how he remembers a soft candy that he would like to eat again.

Eventually he stopped, looking at Norton’s profile with a sigh. He could not see the burn marks from this side, almost forgetting who he was dealing with. Once he decided on something Norton would force his way through, all for the benefits he had made up for himself, thinking that his way is the only one available and there are no better options. If he decided that he would waltz into a pit, nobody could talk him out of it.

Huffing loudly, he just let the man walk onward, thinking about how to pick him together if push comes to shove.

Taking small rests as they made their way to the lonely mansion standing on the hill, Mike couldn’t help but notice how lively the forest had gotten. He clearly remembered that his past visits were followed around by eerie silence that stole the warm and welcoming atmosphere from the sleepy townside. 

If he listened carefully, he might have even heard the buzzing of young hoverflies. In the distance, birds kept calling each other, their songs were as colourful as their feathery mantles, each of them singing a different tone. Due to his human origin, Mike could not understand their language and the meaning behind the different whistles, so he just sat on Norton’s shoulder, raising his head in wonder and hoping that he might eventually see the owner of each song gliding through the canopy of foliage above them.

“Weren’t there any birds in your forest?” The question made him jump a bit, but he quickly regained his footing.

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“How so?”

“Because in my forest if I saw a pretty bird, I could only share it with myself. Now I can keep nagging you to look that way. It’s an experience to be shared,” he explained before adding. “And every time I speak you walk a bit slower.” 

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And now, a full stop because you are looking at the prettiest bird in town.” 

Just as he said, Norton’s pace started to slow and his legs eventually stopped moving.

“Listen, don’t even try to bring up the usual argument about fair money making, because I honestly do not care. My poems alone won’t get food on the table nor pay for that rat burrow I call home. We just talked about that less than an hour ago and I did not change my mind.” His words were fast, eventually leading him to a small coughing fit, hitting at his chest as if that could help calm his aching lungs.

“Aren’t you underselling yourself just an itty-bitty little bit?” Mike asked, cursing the thought of not having fingers to get his point across with human gestures. In the end he just raised one of his feet, squishing his clawed toes together.

“Aren’t you an itty-bitty little bit too concerned with where I get my money?” Norton narrowed his eyes as he started walking again.

“Maybe I would not be so concerned if you were not walking back to the man who sold your story in stores as his fiction! I am fine with eating stale bread for a while if that’s what you are worried about, but I’d rather not go into the den of an avid avian collector before I get caged with the rest of those poor birds.”

This made Norton snort, his lips turning up as he mused.

“I think I’ll have a saying in that. He will have to cage me before he can lay a finger on you… Unless I am the one selling you of course.”

“How gallant. How heroic!” he chirped, before the tone of his voice took a sudden dip. “But still, I’d rather have you avoid that good for nothing author. At least while I am here?”

“So forever?”

“More or less.”

Norton did not answer immediately. Casting his eyes downward, he started kicking a pebble as he walked, making the fallen petals of the flowering trees flutter slightly each time he swung his foot until he accidentally landed it in a patch of purple hyacinths. The flowers nodded their small bell-like blooms as the pebble disappeared under their petals with a soft plop, drawing forth a short, annoyed huff from his lips.

To avoid Orpheus meant to avoid a steady income that helped him keep going. Even if he kept writing articles, reviews and poems until nightfall, by the end of the month the money he had collected was barely enough to bring his expenses out to zero. 

“If I stop coming here, maybe I’d have to move away from my current home to a smaller one.”

“You would do the same if Orpheus moved away or if he stopped writing. I’d like it more if that happened on your terms,” Mike mused. “Just because he wrote a few books it does not mean that he will keep writing. It’s silly. In a way you are doing the same as Orpheus but in a more direct way, but if he falls you will follow…”

The statement made his blood boil, he could feel his muscles tense up as his grip on the shoulder bag go to hard, his fingers started to hurt. However, no matter how much he wanted to fight back, the loud and annoying bird was right. Building his future on a man whose disappearance would cause trouble and a hole in his accounting was not one of his wisest decisions.

He was not comfortable admitting his thoughts out loud. It was a sign of weakness even if Mike had already seen him down the pits and worse. There was a little shard of his shattered dignity he wanted to hold onto before people would start accusing him of blindly following the ideas of a really pesky bird.

One more.

He would ask for the payment for one more book and then he severs the connection for good in order to prevent future financial problems. That was the way to go about it. 

The birds around the author’s home were noisy this time, all trying to out-sing the other while the blue bird on Norton’s shoulder just languidly sat there, refusing to add to the cacophony. Spring has seemingly brought out their noisiest self as their calls echoed between the fresh foliage of the small forest. While he could not understand a single word, the high pitched trill and the responses somewhat managed to ease Mike’s stress. The memory of the caged up birds, the crow that lashed out at him, kept haunting the back of his mind, occasionally reminding him that in that very moment, Norton was knocking on the door of a predator, who could ruin him if he grew bored pretending to be the idiot of the situation. And what stressed him the most, that Norton himself knew that he never had an upper hand to begin with, that he had been had repeatedly since he came in contact with the author.

But this time, he chose to shut up and instead tiptoed closer to the man’s neck, keeping himself small. The house that used to mesmerize him with its details felt cold and uninviting, even when it was surrounded by fresh new leaves, and its front garden was blooming in colours of purple, pink and yellow. He could only hope that it won’t be long before he can admire the flower from the opposite direction.

Norton raised his hand to knock, the door shaking beneath his hits bringing news of his arrival through the house. If he were to accidentally break the door out of its frame, he would have probably just shrug.

Eventually, the lock clicked, the small mechanism of wheels pulling the piece of metal that was wedged into the frame to keep intruders, especially Norton Campbell, from barging in, uninvited. As the fretwork door slowly opened, it revealed the source of all problems.

Orpheus looked at them, his lips pulling into a line as he wondered how to react to the sudden and unannounced visit. Arching his brows as he glanced between the blue bird and the scarred face, he opened his mouth.

“Your timing is as bad as ever.”

“Tell this to the deadlines,” Norton shrugged. 

“I am not sure where you get the notion that I am not a slave to them already…” the man frowned, his hand not letting go of the door as if he was ready to close it at the first opportunity. “Anyway, if you will excuse me, I have a guest over so I cannot deal with your demands at the moment. Return at a later date and I’ll see what I can do about your problem.”

He tried to close the door with this final sentence, except the click never came and Norton’s face was still very much in front of him. Looking down he saw the poet’s tattered brown shoe keeping the door from closing and as a response he did the most natural thing in the word… and slammed the door against it. 

Norton wanted to scream, maybe even punch the man in front of him, but he also wanted the money. Next month was around the corner and a little bit of financial stability never hurt anyone, after all. Gritting his teeth to keep his pain in check he smiled… snarled at the man in front of him, his teeth showing when he bit into his lip with a hiss.

“Well, that means you only need to get a cup instead of serving a full course for your new guests. It would be very ungentlemanly of you if you made us walk home without even the common courtesy of inviting the visitors to rest.”

“You are not a visitor even if you invite yourself. There is a small park near here, rest there.”

Mike had no idea why he felt like butting into the conversation. He grew used to just sit around idly, moving his head like an animal would so when the words were about to pour he learned to hold them back. Except Orpheus already knew his little secret and whatever harm he could do was already done several weeks prior.

Norton still did not fight off the last vestige of his sickness and Mike could not allow him to walk around aimlessly for hours with sweat running down his nape.

“At least, give us a glass of water and we will be on our way. It’s the least you can do unless you want us to add several paragraphs into the review about your suspected source materials and pointing out a few real life coincidences.”

“You cannot prove that they are true,” Orpheus argued, but his grip on the door visibly lessened, but Mike just raised one of his wings, mimicking a human gesture.

“Oh! I think you misunderstood me..! I did not mean bringing up facts. Nobody cares about those, especially not the people who read your novels of horror.” Mike tiptoed to the side in an attempt to get closer to the novelist, the corners of his beak turning up into a devilish smile, “But it does not take much to bend the facts in a way where nobody is unscathed and despite being a bird, I know my way with words… Of course, the choice is up to you, of course.”

His words were followed by silence. Norton turned his head in disbelief, his eyes telling Mike that they will definitely talk about his behaviour once they leave the lovely estate of the novelist. 

At first Orpheus just raised his eyebrows, staring at the bird that not only raised his voice after his previous meek behaviour, but also did this in the company of someone who considered his ability a secret.

“I see…” he nodded to himself. “Quite an interesting development… In this case, you can come in, but only for a drink. Anything else is out of the question for today and this includes talk of your little game.”

“Write me a check,” Norton stated, Mike nodding on his shoulder, his crest bobbing with each movement. However, in the next sentence the bird suddenly froze in movement, looking at the man in disbelief. “And this time make sure to add a few extra pounds for acting like a snake that you are.”

Suddenly, the bird lunged at the stray strand of hair that stuck out from under the hat, causing a yelp from Norton.

“Allow me then,” Orpheus replied with an unamused expression, stepping aside from the door not even caring to look back at his guests as he started walking through the dark corridor of gaudy paintings. Norton followed him, his occasional coughs echoing in the desolate place as if to announce his arrival. 

Mike did not comment on it, even though he felt the urge to scold Norton for overexerting himself despite the fact that he shared the same level of stubbornness with the man. Closing his eyes, he could think back of all the times when he was ushered off the stage because his health got in the way of practicing. Yet he kept sneaking back, messing up, falling only to prove that even when his body was fighting against cold, he was capable of performing.

However, passing out on the swing rope eventually proved nothing for the circus director, only that he had people who looked out for him and his well-being, despite his repeated actions of disregarding the cries of his own body. It would be a lie to say that he was not a naive brat back then. Suffering from fever and tiredness, he was throwing words at everyone, hurting the people around himself even when he was pulled into an embrace with an attempt to comfort him.

Looking at Norton, he had to realize that the man shared similar… virtues when it came to handling his own problems. Grit his teeth to push through his problems, collapse when nobody's looking, then bite whoever wants to lend a helping hand. He served as a mirror of the past and Mike couldn’t help but wonder if his own stubbornness drew out similar feelings from the people around him. 

Soon, they reached the staircase with the statues, their empty expression still haunting Mike’s memories of the day when he found all of those birds locked up, their hatred and resentment aimed at him, instead of the person responsible for such deeds. However, their destination was not the small salon they had previously been to. Instead Orpheus took a turn, leading them onward into the heart of the mansion as he led them through several smaller rooms each seemingly following a different theme and filling in a specific role in life with a different set of furniture. 

The floor creaked under their steps as they walked through another smaller hallway, rapidly reaching the other end of the house. Mike was about to open his mouth to make a comment on the size of Orpheus’s home, but suddenly the man stopped in front of a white door that wear the same fretwork decoration with birds and wines framing the middle, with faint traces or a carved landscape like it was a gate to a secret garden.

Except, when the calming scenery was finally out of the way, Mike experienced the complete opposite side of emotions. His entire body froze almost as if he was dipped into icy water and suddenly his lungs refused to listen to his call to allow more air into his chest. Eventually he started to feel dizzy, claws digging deeper into the green fabric to keep himself grounded in reality.

The past that he was so fond of was glaring back at him with a shocked expression.

Chapter Text

The room was nowhere near as pristine as the one they had previously resided in for their discussion. In fact, it was quite messy, showing clear signs that someone repeatedly visited it through the day and probably spent their time there. The shelves had books tucked in on their sides until they filled out almost every inch of space to the point not even a spider would have been able to crawl through and it seemed that the books themselves were trapped for all eternity with no chance to free them, unless the shelf was taken apart.

Maybe their owner read them once, but now they definitely served as keepsakes. Simple physical memories of the knowledge that has been amassed through the years.

In the corner they somehow tucked in a lacquered piano, its colour resembling the cherry wood table in Keigan’s office. Unlike everything else in the DeRoss estate, the instrument actually showed some minor wear, the imperfections remaining dull where its shining layer sparkled in the spring sun. While Norton was not knowledgeable about pianos, even he could see that despite its age, someone took care of the instrument, dusting off its surface and its lid that hid the keys.

Everything here could have served as the antithesis of the sad excuse of a novelist who always aimed for perfect, sterile arrangements everywhere else in the house.

No wonder that the red haired young man sitting alone on the couch was not the first thing that piqued Norton's interest. In fact, he stood out in the room like nitrogen in the air. Despite his red hair and the face that should have attracted more attention, Norton had no problem ignoring his presence in order to marvel at the mess around them, except the bird on his shoulder seemed to have a completely frozen in place, claws digging so deep into his clothes that they eventually prickled his skin.

For a second, he thought Mike was terrified from the man sitting in front of them. Maybe he was someone from the past who tried to hunt down the bird or hurt him in some way. However the overall atmosphere that lingered around him made it impossible for Norton to imagine a scenery like that. Even after first glance he could see that he was dealing with a coward.

His eyebrows formed a soft arc almost meeting in the middle of an eternal frown. Norton had seen a similar expression back when he told off some newbies at the colliery, but he never expected to meet someone who was capable of keeping the same expression for this long. At some point, Norton almost expected the man to stand up and apologize to him for being born to this world.

However, despite all the anticipation, he remained seated on the small couch, his face turning white as a sheet the more he stared at Mike, who had his crest fit against his brilliant blue feathers.

“Then, since life brought us together today on this gorgeous spring day even if some arrived without being called, let me introduce you to each other,” Orpheus was about to start, his voice containing a fake ring to it. Like a circus director who knows everything what will happen on the stage, but chose to play the role of an unsuspecting bystander to play around with his audience, while Norton took his seat, his gaze wandering between the “novelist” and the guest.

“There is no need…” Mike hissed, making sure his words can be heard in the entire room. The man did not look surprised about the talking bird, if anything he looked scared. Almost as if a demon was sitting in front of him, spreading his wings in anger.

The man’s shoulder twitched at first and Norton could see that he grip into his knees to stop his legs from hitting together. Stress completely took over the stranger and maybe the time of apology he imagined was near.

However, he was not allowed to dwell more on the reasons, because in the next moment Mike pushed himself away from him. His small body ungracefully wobbled in the air like a hastily folded paper plane, his wings were still not in sync, causing the landing on the lacquered table to be as unceremonious as the rest of his flight. The fall did not detour him and Mike almost immediately spring on his thin brown legs.

“Why… Why are you a human?! How?!” the bird demanded answers, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence as he tiptoed closer to the man. “You cannot just leave someone in a forest and return like… like this! This is not fair! Absolutely not fair!” 

“I am sorry…” the red haired man averted his gaze. Yet it seemed that he could not tear his attention away from him, because not even a second later he turned back, a worried frown spreading across his melancholic expression. “I can explain it--”

“Well, I don’t need your explanation! If you were so intent on explaining yourself you wouldn’t have left me to rot alone for years! If you still truly cared about making me understanding your side of the story you wouldn’t be having a tea party in the house of a snake! You would be out there, trying to find me to talk with me directly! I am not as hard to miss as you would believe!” 

By the end, he was gasping for air, his small back rapidly rising and falling as he hungrily tried to reclaim the air he had lost. In front of him, the man looked small and vulnerable, his deformed lips opening to continue talking, but one glance was enough at Mike’s ruffled feathers to make him rethink his actions. In the end, he just gritted his teeth and grinding his fingers together in his lap as he looked at the telescope near the window. He only raised his face again, when Norton reached forward, grabbing the bird from below with both palms and sitting back with him.

Mike did not fight him, nor complained about forcefully being removed from the front lines. He even allowed Norton to plop him down on his knees and run his thumb over his back.

The sudden contact was strange. The poet always kept his distance, avoiding physical contact to the point Mike wondered if his feathers were dipped in poison, so to have him caress his back so lovingly was something he never expected to happen under any circumstances.

Closing his eyes, he heaved a soft sigh, allowing his aching body to take a short rest.

The attempt to soothe him was welcomed, but the bitterness would not leave that easily. Even if he did his best to focus his attention on the silver tea set in front of him, to count the flower motifs in the expensive silverware, the knowledge that an uninvited guest was in his presence made his focus fall completely apart. 

In front of him sat someone who filled his past, escaped from his present like a criminal and he could no longer be seen in his future. Most importantly, the person he could no longer bear seeing. His heart, which used to beat faster and fill him with a childish glee each time their eyes met still retained its old pace, but this time it filled him with fear. To think that he was so eager to steal kisses from those crooked lips, getting drunk from the contact and play with those red waves letting them escape his fingers every time! His body still remembered the motions, habits and small quirks they had, but the perfect image corroded with time and hurt in a way, Mike never knew he was capable of suffering.

He could no longer bear looking at the features he loved so much…

“It seems that today brought a curious meeting into this house,” Orpheus broke the silence as he sat down at the sofa at the head of the coffee table. Leaning back, he looked at the two sides sitting across each other, as if he was waiting for one of them to take the first step forward into their meeting. “Old acquaintances, friends and I might even say lovers.”

Norton immediately perked up in his seat when he heard the last word. The irritated expression morphed into something indescribably as he gave a closer look to the man in front of him taking mental notes of the more noticeable features. 

Dishevelled red locks, each strand standing in a different direction yet forming a look that reminded him of the ears of a stray cocker spaniel. His thick eyebrows seemed to be permanently stuck in an expression of worry, only to match with his lips. Even at first glance he could tell that the person in front of him did not become famous for his pleasant and uplifting nature. If anything, melancholy seemed to sit next to him like an old companion.

Most importantly, he looked harmless. Nothing too special aside from his red hair and missing limb. 

Yet this person caught Mike’s attention to the point the attraction grew into something more. He tried to sweep this fact out of the room, forget about it and to focus on his day, but no matter how much he tried the words and his own imagination kept haunting him.

"Just scrap the lovers part," Mike's words mercilessly dragged him back to reality. “I have nothing to do with him anymore and I absolutely have no plans on doing anything in the future.”

“Mike, I…”

“No, no, no! Lovers don’t leave each other without a word just because they failed once! I mourned you! I thought you died somewhere as a bird because I scared you away that day! And then you have the audacity to come back parading like a human while I am still stuck like this!?”

Norton was not sure if it was possible for the man across him to become even smaller, but with each word Mike threw at his head it felt like he regretted his visit and wished to disappear. He couldn’t see it properly in the dim afternoon light, but it seemed as if the man was fighting his tears, while the bird rendered him speechless and took every chance to fight back. 

“No wonder, you could not break the curse. Did you even love me?”

The coup de grace was served in the end in a manner, Norton hopes he never has to experience words coming from Mike. Unlike the joking and bitter manner Mike used to scold him over his failure, the way the man was addressed almost made him feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Even if he would not admit it openly, there was something about the way Mike hissed at the familiar face that put his own heart at a strange ease.

A heavy silence nestled between the two with unsaid words lingering at the tip of their tongues, waiting for them to take the first step forward and exchange their pain with each other. It was no different than a battlefield where both parties knew they were fighting for a lost cause.

Eventually, Orpheus seemed to grow bored of the scene in front of him and after taking his own cup into his hand, he finally broke the silence by introducing the parties to each other.

“Well, it seems two knows each other, so that leaves us with two introductions. Campbell, this is Joker, a good friend of mine and an excellent circus clown from circus Hullabaloo,” he nodded towards the man, seemingly wanted to disappear into his seat, pushing his body into the wood coloured cushions. Norton could feel a comment coming forth from the bird, so he pushed his thumb on his back as a warning. Mike glanced up, but remained silent, his small back slowly deflating under Norton’s touch as he let out a barely audible sigh. “Joker, the man sitting in front of you is Norton Campbell, a miner who mainly specializes in tin and coal, although lately he is trying his wings at the art of words and of course, fruitlessly scamming me out of my fortune.”

They should have stood up, shake hands to end the introduction, none of them could muster the determination to move. The introductions were barebones, leaving a lot to the imagination and not answering the questions they needed and wanted to hear. 

Through an unlikely meeting, Mike’s past and present stared each other in the face, not really knowing how to treat the other. While they were connected through the same person, they couldn’t be any different.

“Introductions aside… Why are you here? You have not shown your face here for years, what changed?” Mike asked, trying to keep his tone as calm and collected as it was humanly possible, yet his claws kept digging into the fabric of Norton’s pants. His voice was strained, but he just shook off the anger he had felt.

Joker bit into his crooked lips, looking around as if to see if somebody would be willing to answer in his stead. His eyes met with Orpheus’s but the man just shrugged with a barely visible motion, raising his cup as a sign of encouragement.

“Well, I…” he looked at Mike and he spoke as if he was holding something clamped between his back teeth. “I was actually looking for you, several times, not always showing myself because I was scared of how you would react… But when you were not in the forest I panicked. Suddenly you disappeared without a trace and I had no idea what to do. I was thinking about the worst possible outcomes…”

Mike felt a thumb on his back, appreciating the warmth that helped to ease his stiffened muscles. Before he couldn’t have answered, Norton’s voice slid into the conversation, just like how a cat appears in the room completely uninvited. 

“‘Ere. I think the first person who pulled the disappearing act was you. It’s a bit late thinking about worst outcomes when you were the one who left him behind in the first place.”

“I don’t think anyone asked your opinion on this,” Joker replied with a cold glare. 

“You are right. Nobody did. But I came here for the simple reason of getting paid and the first thing you did was go after my bird and get him all teasy. I think this made me part of the conversation already,” he stated. It would be a lie to say that he did not enjoy the change in facial expression that went through Joker's face and the anger that was clearly engulfing his thoughts, yet in this room, he was forced to grit his teeth. “So, what brought you by so suddenly?” 

“If you allow me to answer this… It was me.” Orpheus joined the conversation, leaning forward with a satisfied smile on his lips. “I’ve been in correspondence with Joker ever since our little meeting years ago, so sharing our experiences was not something new. When I told him that I’ve seen the exact bird he was looking for, he immediately asked for a meeting. Of course, I couldn’t say no to an old friend, so I booked a room for him in town.” 

“Adorable. And what is your goal here?” he addressed the question to Joker, who kept glaring at him with a biting gaze, his attention never leaving the bird sitting in his lap.

“...”

“So?”

“I came to take him back home.” There was more. Norton could see it in the man’s grey eyes, but in the end he just decided to keep the rest to himself. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” Mike suddenly jumped back to the table, his clawed feet making a noise as he kept stomping closer to the man. “You cannot just waltz out of my life then expect me to rush straight into your arms. I am still keeping myself to the promise of absolutely, definitely not wanting anything to do with you.”

“B-But he is clearly bad for you!” Joker tried, gesturing weakly only for Mike to raise his voice, drowning out his soft voice. 

“Well, I am an adult, so let me be the judge of that! But even if he is, I love being with him, I love experiencing the world with him and I would not trade Norton for anyone else in this town! Especially not you!”

If they were keener to the small noises lingering in the air around them, someone could hear the way Mike’s heart cracked with each word that left his wide beak. Where there was overwhelming love once, he could not find anything but resentment and anger over his own hurt. 

“What about us?” Joker’s voice broke. His previous confidence was almost completely gone. The man who was ready to wage war against Norton was gone, replaced by his timid and desperate self.

“Joker,” the bird sighed, “There is just nothing to be told about us anymore. It’s you and me now.”

His body was shaking as he uttered the words that he had known for years but couldn’t address to anyone. Mike felt like crying, to show that he was hurting just as much as anyone else, even if his possibilities to show this were vastly limited by his own cursed form.

He hurt the person who was once his whole world and while he felt like finally breaking free from the cage he built around himself from the scattered bits of his own past, the scenery he created immediately pulled him back, destroying him bit by bit. 

Looking at the reddened cheeks, and the tears that steadily made their way towards the man’s chin urged him to rush through the table, to explain himself fully, to tell him everything. However, if there was one thing he had learned by being with Norton is that the barrier between medicine and poison was thin and easy to cross with simple mistakes.

“You cannot do this…” Joker whispered in a hoarse voice. His tears refused to stop as he watched the bird turn around and walk back to his previous spot, hopping over to Norton’s knees. The fabric served as the only safe spot in the room.

“I just did…”

He has never been happier to feel the hands caress him, before he was raised back to his usual spot on Norton’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be taking our leave now,” Norton nodded solemnly. He refused to even spare a glance at the man, focusing all of his attention on Orpheus.

“So soon. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer? After all, there seems to a lot to talk about and some threads still need to be weaven back into the fabric. Time and care, that’s only how damages can be mended.” he spread his arms in his seat, an arrogant smile sitting on his lips. “After all, you just made my guest weep, shouldn’t it be also your job to comfort him?”

“No, thank you. I also have some duties to attend to later today,” he said, pushing himself away from the uncomfortable sofa. “Besides, you have told me repeatedly that I should not be here. Let’s just not count my visit as one, then. Just know that I expect the usual amount on my account in the following two days. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll see myself out with my bird.”

He waved, before he turned around and left the room leaving behind a storm of emotions. He could hear the other man calling Mike, begging him to look at him, but before their visit could go on longer, Norton quickly closed the door and hastened his steps, fighting off the urge to cough when he felt his lungs burn up and light-headedness wash over his entire body. 

However, there was also something else, a strange excitement made his heart do a small leap, sneaking a smile to his lips as the anger he felt towards the red haired man evaporated in the warm rays of the afternoon sun. 

Chapter Text

The farther they ran from Orpheus’s lonely empire, the lighter the air around them had gotten allowing them to finally let go of the frustration they felt when they landed themselves in a situation neither Mike nor Norton had expected to take part in. The remnants of the faint jealousy and the suffocating thoughts still followed them longer than they should have only deciding to leave when they reached the steep road, framed by the acer and oak trees and saw the first rooftops below their feet as they followed the fence that stopped them from straying into someone’s garden from above.

Walking forward, the road eventually stopped with the sudden turns and small stone staircases and led them to a street that led straight down to the small bridge that separated the town from its rich tenants. However, what stopped Norton was not the steepness of the road, but the view that was revealed from him the moment he finally looked up from the ground.

While he considered himself to be someone who had spent a great majority of his life outside, the truth was, he either worked within the mines or helping with the processing work above surface. He hardly ever saw this much life concentrated into one place as mines not only poisoned their own workers, they also killed the nature around them until they were left with a barren wasteland of rocks and water that could not be drunk anymore.

The mining settlement he’d spent his early life was no different.

Fields of burnt, yellow grass with only the hardiest weeds blooming in speckles, topped with copious amounts of dust. When he moved to the south, the same scenery just grew richer with the angry sea that crashed against the walls of the mine, threatening to drown each and every worker if they overstepped the boundaries set for them.

He always represented a force that brings death, a force that destroys and stands out like a sore thumb in nature. Compared to his empty past, the present was almost unbearingly colourful, filling his head with scents that he did not know he was missing. 

However, the feeling that he did not truly belong to this lovely scenery refused to leave him. So many years of his life was spent in the shadow of death, that now he was offered to be part of the light, he realized, he would never be able to wash off the dirt that had already seeped into his skin at an early age.

Suddenly the warmth of late spring sun touched his skin as if it intended to pull him back from the abyss he was ready to wade further into and soon attention was forcefully drawn towards the view of the small town, the place that welcomed him with its sleepy nature and eccentric folks. Behind it, right over the whitewashed houses that he had seen that night, the scenery melted into the bright yellow rapeseed fields that shone brightly in the distance, reaching up to the forest.

He might have moved around, but in reality that was the true starting point of his new, noisier life.

A small smile crept its way to his lips as he remembered the headache that tortured him that day and rushed him into the trap of another desperate creature. The anger and annoyance that he had felt and how he was unable to muster the same feelings together for a long time now.  

Almost as if something from him that day was left behind in the forest and he never had a chance to collect it again.

Glancing to the side couldn’t help but wonder if the nagging blue bird was the reason. That annoying chirping that would never case even if his demands were met, and in fact, he even got louder afterwards, taking the man’s entire arm when he was offered a helping hand.

And yet, even if Norton couldn’t admit it loudly without feeling shame bubble in the pits of his stomach, he was thankful for all the pecks and scolding he had gotten and they eventually started something positive in his life.

However, when he glanced at the bird he was suddenly greeted by the changes that happened gradually. The crest that stood so proudly before was lowered, barely curling back from the blue feathers. The glimmer that seemed to reflect a curious pattern even in the darkness of the night was nowhere to be found. If it weren’t for his tail feathers, Norton would not know that the bird held some sort of magic in his tiny body. 

But now, almost as if every drop of magic was gone and a suffocating silence fell over them as some sort of punishment. He wanted to talk, ask about things, finally get some much needed clarification but every word would hold the ability to hurt Mike even more.

Heaving a sigh, Norton started walking again, watching as the yellow line disappeared the closer they got to the buildings only to be replaced by the petals fluttering in the spring breeze when he reached the old pear tree on the bank of the small stream.

For some reason, he felt like going home would mean that he misses his only chance to learn more. He knew it was out of character for him to show curiosity towards someone else, but this time he wanted to listen to the small voice in the back of his head, even if he was called out for his hypocrisy for suddenly changing attitude towards someone.

He silently threw his bag down in the shadow of a tree, before lifting Mike up and placing him on the top of it so he could get rid of the jacket and the hat that has been burning him alive ever since they rushed through the front door of the snake’s home. 

The world spun around him as his rear met the grass, but he quickly shook off the sudden tiredness and folded the green garment to provide a better seat for the bird as he rested his head against the tree.

“You are going to get ants in your hair,” Mike warned him. Norton did not reply to him, but he lightly pulled away from the bark, muttering a light curse under his breath as he brushed his shoulder off.

Silence fell over them as they both purposely glued their attention to the small town beneath them. A view that was taken out of a picture book, yet Norton couldn’t find anything inspiring in it.

Dark thoughts kept eating away at him, one by one biting into his soul and refusing to let go of him.

“So, a boyfriend…” the thought escaped through his lips, earning a reproving blink from the bird. 

“…Wow, you really don’t beat around the bush when something is not about you...”

“Is there a good way to bring this up?” Norton shrugged, still not giving up on his goal to rest his back somehow, pulling away from the tree each time he got reminded of the small ants running up and down between the dents of its bark.

“Well, now that you say it yes. It’s kind of hurtful that you immediately assume he is my boyfriend because Orpheus said it,” the bird properly turned around this time, hopping over to Norton’s knee from the brown bag.

“It’s not like you ever talked about him. You were always far too keen to dip into other people’s personal space.”

“Maybe I don’t like talking about him, just like how you keep avoiding the topic of those scars that keep covering your body,” he stopped, a deep sigh left his small body as he shook his head. “Except in my case, the longer I kept running away from the past the faster it finally came back to bite me in the butt and make a fool out of me out of everyone. It’s not fair.”

“I cannot imagine what kind of past you would be fleeing from,” Norton admitted, only realizing it far too late how tone deaf he had sounded. However, the bird just laughed.

"A very complicated one…" 

Pacing around on his leg, Mike felt conflicted. 

He was the type of person who preferred living in the present and experiencing things as life threw them at him while doing his best to ignore the past by avoiding any sort of reminiscing.

If it happened, it happened. If it no longer served him in the present, then he did not need to keep it anymore.

He always thought that Joker too, will remain part of the past. A small piece of a bittersweet memory that he kept close to his heart. Hidden from prying eyes. Only to be taken out when he needs a bit of courage before being showed back to the back of his mind again.

He didn't expect that every ounce of courage would flee his body when the focus of those memories came back and knocked on his door, reminding himself of everything he used to have.

Feeling frustrated, he looked up at Norton but only got a confused look in return that made the feathers stand on his neck.

After pacing around the checked fabric, he settled down on Norton’s bent knee, spreading his wings with mild puzzlement.

“But even if it is complicated I cannot just tell you the most important parts over tea and some biscuits. I wish I could, but unlike Joker, I am still bound by whatever this thing is so all I can do is to try to talk in riddles and hope that it will get through your thick skull.”

“I won’t talk to him,” Norton stated almost immediately.

“You should, he is good company when he is not focused on burying himself in his own misery,” Mike chuckled, his tone becoming lighter as he watched the irritated depression on Norton’s face. “After all, he was the number one pierrot of our circus! Maybe even you would stop looking so sour all the time, if you’ve seen him on stage.” 

Norton could only blink at the statement.

“You are pulling my leg there,” his voice was full of disbelief as he looked at the small blue bird. “That man cannot be a clown...”

“Oh, but he is! His main focus was slapstick comedy. Like, there was that one act where he would get caught in a lamp post by his suspenders and he could only free himself if he somehow climbed up to the top. It was hilarious! Even when I was just part of the audience, he never failed to cheer me up, even if off stage he was the one who needed it the most,” Mike reminisced on the old memory, gesturing with his feathers.

New and new stories kept popping up from their past shows, each more colourful than the last.

Dogs, props, juggling, the formation on a comedy duo.

Everything Mike kept about his past hidden from Norton suddenly came to the surface with full force, opening his boxes of memories one by one. Almost as if the warm spring sun lured them out in the open, confirming that the uncomfortable feeling that sprouted in his chest was not without a reason. 

While everything sounded fun in Mike’s retellings, Norton couldn’t help but feel a small ache in his heart growing stronger as the bird talked, its roots spreading and poisoning his thoughts. The more he was forced to think about the red haired man in a positive light, the more miserable he had felt. 

Up until now, he hardly thought about the possibility that Mike did not just sprung into his life out of the blue to turn everything upside down. He was once a human with a past and connections, and now it felt like those said connections arrived to take him back. 

The thought somehow made his stomach churn and his fingertips ached as he clumsily tried to loosen his tie with the hope of getting some air in his burning lungs. 

It is the heat, he explained to himself as he threw the annoying attire away and finally leaned against the tree. 

 “Could you just stop talking about him for a moment,” he heard himself say so weakly, Norton did not believe these words came from him. His mood was already foul but there was something about the bird talking that plunged him deeper into his own misery until he couldn’t take it anymore. “The last time I checked, I asked you to talk about the past not to talk about one person.”

The crest fell against the blue feathers, and if Norton was not focused on the dizziness that came over him, he might have seen the mischievous glint in the bird’s eyes. 

“I talk about him, because he is a huge part of my past, you dim-witted fool. If I did not know you better, I might even say that you are jealous of him.”

“Maybe in your dreams!” Norton smirked at the idea.

“Please, my dreams can never be this wild! I always stop at the idea of having fingers,” the bird laughed, the tips of his teal feathers spreading apart as he reached forward, "The night is far too short to dream up one of Freddy’s novels featuring several lovers racing for the non-existing hands of little old me!"

“Never knew you had those kind of ideas in you,” Norton huffed, enjoying the light breeze that hit his face. The numbness slowly left his fingers and his heart calmed down the more the discussion strayed away from its original course. “But you are far too intelligent for those books.”

He did not notice the bird steadily climbing up on his shirt by his small claws, making barely visible holes in the fabric. If he did, he would have definitely mentioned the cost and the image Mike will push him into among the weather coworkers, however by the time he would have had a chance to voice this opinion, the bird was already sitting on his shoulder, looking at the same scenery as him. 

“I wish you were half as intelligent as little old me though,” he leant against the man’s neck. “I cannot believe you got scared that I would leave you the moment I see my old partner. Wasn’t my reaction honest enough?” 

“...” 

“I mean, I can understand the fear. He is important to me,” Mike admitted, feeling Norton’s shoulder tense under his feet. “But so are you. And I can’t believe that I am saying this, but if I was forced to choose between the two of you I’d be doing the same thing I am doing now. Just sitting on your shoulder and wondering how you even arrived at this problem when I clearly told you that you cannot get rid of me.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Says the man who fluked my only chance of turning into a human,” the bird huffed. “I hope you know, I should be insanely bitter and angry about that. I should hate you for betraying me and leaving me in this feathery predicament.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

What stopped him?

Mike turned his attention towards the road that led them back to the creek. As it went it connected the hill with the heart of the small town, spreading everywhere like a complex web, before it disappeared within the forest of taller buildings and reappeared in the distance in its raw, untended form. 

Without noticing he formed connections, he had met more people in the small time frame than he did in the past years and through these his world had also expanded. 

He had spent so much time alone in the forest, listening to his own voice echoing between the trees that he had completely forgot what life was about and how it should be carried out to its fullest. 

His voice eventually found him, gently nudging him to let go of the last rotten piece of memory that he carried around. 

“You know, Joker also tried to help me, we were both birds at the time so maybe it was obvious that it wouldn’t have worked even if we were both embarrassingly into each other. After all, if it worked like that everyone who suffered the same fate as us would just find someone in a similar situation and ask for their sympathy. The world would not need princesses and princes to break these curses.” he would have probably smiled at the idea, if he had the ability. “However, in Joker’s case, his reaction to the failure was blaming himself and leaving me alone in the forest for years. Sometimes he wrote a letter, but he tried to keep himself away from me. Now I understand why, “Mike laughed weakly, before he shook his head. “And of course there are only so many things you can do in a forest before you start losing the little spark that kept you going. It felt like a prison within a prison, slowly stealing my hope away as the days melted together. If there is something worse than death, then I am pretty sure I went through it.”

He wondered what Norton’s expression looked like as he listened.

“And you are right, it’s irrational to not hate you when you failed the same way as he did, but there is a difference… You had the chance to leave me behind.”

“You cannot say I did not do my best to achieve that,” Norton piped in. “But you stuck to me like a magnet.”

“Might I mention that you never tried to hurt me, despite that? You could have, and yet you settled with mild annoyance,” Mike was surprised how easy it was to talk and how freely his own feelings find their way to the surface. “Even if you act like a cranky old grandpa at times, who would count the sugar crystals at home… somewhere along the way you became special. I know it’s laughable, but I wouldn’t want to trade you for anyone else. Not even Joker.”

Norton did not answer, but through the small non-verbal signs and the tension that slowly left his shoulders, Mike knew that his words finally reached him. He might have even thought that the man’s mouth curved into a smile despite his heart being torn by the storm that caught him completely off guard just an hour ago. 

“There is one thing that I cannot understand…”

“Just one?”

Norton hushed him. “Instead tell me. How come that he broke his curse, yet there was nobody with him when he visited the rich prick.” 

“Oh, that… That’s because the curse was a personalized one, specially tailored to push us into a situation where there is no escape. Mine was to marry someone. His? I don’t really know…”
“Somehow the clown did the impossible, though”, Norton argued. “So, why did you fail twice. Even someone like him was able to do it, then I cannot see why you are fated to fail.”

“I wish I knew,” Mike whispered, his small back deflating when he finally let out the breath he was holding in his lungs. 

The birds on the hill continued their songs, calling for each other’s company while their body remained hidden from the world. They carried the comfortable silence that settled between them, filling out the emptiness where there were words before. It was a kind of silence they could hardly experience in their small home where the neighbours always found a new way to rearrange their furniture and the old lady kept shouting after her husband every morning when he left for work. 

Mike closed his eyes, allowing the world to embrace his aching body as the breeze cooled his burning muscles.

Through his sleep dazed state he could faintly hear the familiar click as a pen's cap was pulled off followed by the faint rustling of paper.

Chapter Text

He had no idea how much time he had spent wandering in his empty dream, looking for a way back from the camp that had been eaten away by time. It might have been an hour or maybe more, because by the next time he came back to his senses the comfortable scraping of Norton’s pen was nowhere to be heard and the orchestra of birds was replaced by the bluster of humans and the comedic sounds of clip-clopping of hooves on the setted road as the horses pulled a carriage right next to the pedestrians, almost dragging them along with their momentum.

At first, Mike was confused about why the animals were galloping around like they were in a circus and why Norton did not make comments when they passed by them several times. After all, the poet was the type of person who had an opinion on everyone and everything and managed to find the nuances nobody even took time to take note of.

Yet, the horses that almost trampled over him were not worthy of mentioning for some reason.

The bird just blinked in confusion, around the third time it happened he finally brought it up and got enlightened about the situation with the horses and why Norton was so patient about the danger they posed. 

“Anyone would be, if they got free treatment from the doctor. “

Even if he had to jump away from the thundering hooves, Norton just nodded and walked forward as if voicing anything bad about the woman travelling to and fro all day would bring bad luck upon his head. Or just lack of proper treatment in case he ever needs her help.

However, after getting over the shock caused by the small carriage that almost hit them, Mike realized that he had no idea about their destination. The street was wide, but lacked actual landmarks and the names did not tell him much. Peeking into the corners when they reached just revealed smaller streets with a metallic signs of shops and companies hanging from the wall at some of the entrances. 

“Where are we exactly?” he asked, surpassing a yawn that still lingered in his body.

“Don’t talk when I am about to sell you,” Norton muttered under his breath as he stopped in his tracks, looking around with a frown, before crossing the street. Then it seemed that he had realized something because not long after he repeated the action, but this time going back to the other side.

“When you don’t even know where you are? Please,” Mike tilted his head, almost laughing at how bad Norton was at hiding his own confusion.  

“I know it, I just cannot see it—”

“Therefore, you don’t know what we are looking for,” Mike finished it for him. Norton groaned as he started walking again, almost as if he forced himself to prove that they are in fact not as lost as Mike claimed them to be. 

Soon, Mike could see the peaked roof of the church appearing in one of the small streets Norton passed by. His heart skipped a few hopeful beats as he waited for Norton’s reaction on the realization. Who knows maybe this whole trip was just a surprise for another attempt of breaking his curse. However, his hope deemed to be short-lived because the man barely took notice of the ancient building and he kept looking for something else as he walked forward. 

“Actually… Do you even know what we are looking for?” Mike asked after waiting an honourable ten minutes. If Norton wanted to get lost that was on him, but at some point it was hard to forget that they barely ate that day and the impatience started showing on Mike the emptier his stomach had gotten. 

“Do I look like I don’t?”

“Yes, Norton, you absolutely do,” Mike admitted, feeling Norton’s shoulder rise and fall beneath his feet as the man sighed. However, his comment did not seem to affect him much as he kept walking farther.

Mike had a faint recollection of the market they had walked past, although they had completely missed the opening time for the day and the vendors have already taken their wares home or pulled a fabric over their booth. He clearly remembered the striped roofs and the statue of a man with a lute sitting leisurely as he watched over them. It was something he had seen before, yet he could not recall when, almost as if the place appeared once in a faraway dream.

Until he saw the silhouette of a yellow bird swinging gently in the spring breeze, right above a wooden door, almost glowing against the blackened stone tiles. Next to it, the colourful shop window told the story of a great train journey this time with a wooden locomotive visiting various landmarks of the world, heading towards a forest where stuffed animals stood on each other’s back. 

It was the same store Norton had visited on the day when Mike almost got torn to shreds by a crow. He did not know what happened on that day and his mind did his best to lock away the memories focusing on the small bed Norton had given him just few hours after he collected his strength.

One thought followed another, when the bird peeked into the store noticing a blonde woman putting up her new wares. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties and he did not need to walk closer to see how pretty she was and to notice the hidden elegance in her movements as she stood on tiptoes to reach a higher shelf.

Every second took something away from him, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was until he turned his attention at his partner.

Glancing at Norton’s profile, he did not miss the redness of his ears that slowly spread to his cheeks as he stared at the doorknob. A thought started to take form alongside an uncomfortable feeling of losing a battle he never even really participated in, but somehow started when his own half came back to remind him of the past. 

It was all just wishful thinking, and yet he was unable to let go of them even in the moment of failure.

The door opened slowly, but it did not fail to make the small bell above their head ring with a high trill when Norton hesitantly stepped inside. His neck stretched as he pretended to look around. In reality, he was measuring up the store and how many customers lingered around, nodding to himself when the number only rose from zero with their presence.

However the bell also notified the shopkeeper who immediately sprung around, quickly putting away the remaining stuffed elephants while giving glances to the duo.

“Welcome, welcome, just a minute,” she said. The decorated footstool she was standing on was quickly grabbed from the ground and she hid it behind the counter with a silent, but confident throw. 

“Welcome!” she repeated herself. A smile magically appeared on her face as she stood up to turn towards her customers. “How can I help you?”

“...”

Norton looked around, awkwardly putting his weight from one foot to another making Mike wonder if he had nailed the true reason for their visit. However, just as he was about to thread deeper into his own dark thoughts, the girl made a sound, forcing him to look up and meet the eyes that reminded him of the clear blue skies in summer. 

“Wait! Aren’t you…” she stopped for a moment, frowning as she leaned closer then closed her eyes as if she was to bring up an old memory. Eventually, she clapped her hand with a satisfied laugh, “Yes, yes you are! This is the same expression, the same helpless tiptoeing and that awkward smile! You are the man who bought a doll house furniture for his friend’s pet bird! I remember it now! And it seems that you have befriended the bird too!”

Her voice was shrill, almost as if she tried to fit every thought she had into the same sentence, but ending up creating a long string of word snake in the process, that kept swirling around them with an alarming speed. Mike had to be keen to catch the most important tidbits of information before they slipped out of his claws.

What caught him off guard was the mention of what seemed to be the worst lie he had ever heard from the poet.

“You know, for a long time I thought you were really just an embarrassed father, buying something for his daughter. After all, there are many people who come in here and are afraid to admit that they might not know their children as much as they want to.”

The “embarrassed father” part stayed with Mike as the shopkeeper continued detailing her thoughts about her customers. Looking at Norton he could see the man grow redder by the moment, steeling his jaws as to withstand the good natured humiliation.

The redness that first just spread to his ears, slowly creeped to his cheeks and down his neck, until Mike could feel his shoulders move beneath his feet to reach for his necktie.

The embarrassed father.

“Embarrassed father? THIS MAN?” he blurted the words, forgetting about their agreement as a loud laughter rocked his small body, almost making him fall over. He only noticed his mistake when the woman’s swiftly twirling voice disappeared from the background and he met her confused gaze. In any other cases, he would have tried to veil his mistake, however he was far too focused on the impossible combination that he was gifted with and the endless possibilities this information could be weaponized in the future. Flapping his wings, to keep his balance on Norton’s shoulder, he leaned forward to hide his beak in the green fabric of his coat. “Oh god! I am dying sooner than intended!” 

“Did your bird just talk?” the woman asked the obvious, but she seemed to need several seconds to understand what was happening in front of her. 

Norton opened his mouth to tell something, but even his whitest lies seemed to fail him, stopping right before he was about to say them out loud. Eventually, he just closed his mouth in defeat, waiting for Mike to stop guffawing on his shoulder.

“How I wish he did not…” Norton muttered in the end, wondering how much laughter the small bird's body could contain. “Would you like to keep him in my stead?” 

“Oh no, no no no, it’s bad luck to gift the bluebird of happiness away! A witch might visit you at night or worse!” she waved her hands, but despite the impossibility of the situation her smile never left her face. She repeated her question, when the bird in question finally calmed down and bit into his owner’s ear. “Does he understand what I say?”

“Of course, I do!” Mike exclaimed proudly, earning a glare from Norton. So long for keeping their secret hidden from prying eyes and outsiders. As if Mike did not care about his own safety anymore!

“Stop talking,” Norton hissed, but Mike just huffed, before cooing like a child. 

“Yes, father.”

“Mike…” the voice was low, and irritation seeped through the seams.

“Yes, that’s little old me!” 

“I thought we agreed that you talking is something between you and me, not you and the entire town.”

“And we agreed that you will be less insufferable, but here we are.”

“Uhm…” the girl lifted her hand, almost as if she was asking for permission to talk. Both of them looked at her, halting their fight for a moment. “If you are worried about your secret getting out… Well, in that case you do not need to. I’ve no intention to reveal this to anyone. In fact, I’m really happy to have met with someone so magical! When I was little my mother often told me stories about talking animals and it feels special to be given the chance to meet one so unique as a legendary bluebird. Fear not, I know the risks of sharing this with anyone else…”

“Even if you do, it’s not like I can do anything about it at this point,” the poet admitted his defeat, before adding, “Thanks to a certain someone.”

Mike just spread his wings. “Yes. Keep pointing at me since you have something to point with! I was not the one lying to this lady here! She deserved to hear the truth about your friend’s little pet bird since the bed served me so well!”

“As I’ve said, your secret is safe with me, but…” her eyes never left Mike, even following him when he landed on the counter in front of her. 

“So what is the catch, my fair lady?” the bird tiptoed closer to her. His mood changed the moment he noticed the attention was on him and his voice gradually softened back when he was given the chance to steal the spotlight from Norton.

“Please, Anne is fine,” she chuckled. “I’d like to ask you to stand still for me.”

“You are asking the impossible from him,” the poet voiced his thoughts, but Mike was faster.

“Gladly!”

From the pocket of her red work apron she pulled out a small key and disappeared behind the blue door in the back of the store leaving Mike and Norton alone with each other. The silence that surrounded them was almost comical and when Mike turned around, he could see that the poet avoided his gaze on purpose. 

Suddenly, now that he did not need to prove his point to anyone, the colourful balloons made of fabric and wood were more interesting than his companion.

A little spark of kindness. A dash of cheerful embarrassment. Lively emotions he had never seen from someone who kept his positive feelings at bay by burying them the moment they tried to reach the surface.

Before Mike had a chance to take note of this, Annie returned to them with fluttering steps, holding small wooden white box in her hands. On the sides green vines and red flowers bloomed while simply red birds sat on each side of the vine with only their wings carrying patterns. It was clearly a traditional style, but Mike could not really determine where it belonged. 

“I am terribly sorry, but when I saw you talking I immediately got struck with an idea. A spark of inspiration that I’ve been waiting for,” she explained, her voice growing stronger as she started taking out smaller metallic canisters from the box. Frowning she pulled out a small, purple beret made of felt. 

“And what do we get from this? Because this is not what I came for.” Norton raised a brow, still trying to understand the scene unfolding in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a discount!” the woman just waved, her hands already trying to tie a scarf around the bird’s small back without much success.

Mike did not dislike the sudden contact, but there was something about the way the woman’s fingers ruffled his feathers that felt uncomfortable to the point his own quills started to prickle his neck, and the hat prevented his crest from moving. Birds were not meant to wear clothes and this became obvious to him when he had to force his legs to stay on the table before he scratched the clothes off of him.

It was torture. Almost as worse as getting woken up by Norton’s snoring before sunrise. 

Awkwardly lifting his wings with the hope that it would ease the itchiness, he looked at Annie, his eyes begging for freedom.

“I appreciate the idea, but… I do not think birds were meant to wear clothes.”

“The discount will be fine.” Norton joined in, earning a long stare from the bird. “Would it include anything from the store or just the set of clothing?”

The woman seemed to be surprised by his sudden return to the conversation, opening her mouth, she looked around before nodding to herself a strange flash of determination flashing through her face. “Anything. Of course, the discount will be dynamic depending on how much I can afford to cut from the base price, but as long as you let me try a few things, it will be negotiable.”

“A few things?” Mike perked up, the small orange tophat falling from his blue head.

“Just a few more!” she nodded, her fingers already inching together the next set she wanted to dress him up in.

And the set followed after that.

And after that.

Mike had no idea how many different garments were pushed on his feathers only to be pulled off, but at some point Annie set a small doll mirror in front of him just to show the reflection of a dishevelled blue bird. His feathers were sticking out here and there and his crest started to look like he had been fighting a losing war against cats all night. 

So long for the gorgeous blue bird of legends.

Soon a kettle also appeared from behind the shop with three sets of mismatched cups lined up in a battered copper tray. Maybe back in its heyday it had a brilliant shine to it, but now the only sign that told Norton about its value was the green splotches of oxidation that started eating away the material. Annie did not seem to mind this, and started serving them tea, frowning as she focused her attention to pour just a small amount on the bottom of the cup intended for Mike. 

Norton was about to raise his voice to protest, but he had a feeling Annie would not take no for an answer, so instead he just awkwardly grabbed onto the edge of the counter, looking at the front door with the hopes that someone would suddenly appear to save them. An old lady with her granddaughter stopped in front of the store window, looking at the interior of the store with curious glances, but it seemed that upon noticing the tea set, the woman gently led the little girl away, explaining something to her while putting her hand on the girl’s back.

“Just to note, I refuse to pay for this,” Norton tried to escape, but the woman just looked up at him with a smile playing on her lips.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’d not ask money for something I should not be able to sell to every customer! I just thought about treat you two since I’ve been keeping you here all afternoon. Alas, I don’t really have any biscuits to serve, so I hope tea will suffice.” 

“It’s perfect and always welcomed considering Mr. Gloom and Doom here likes portioning literally every darn thing in his home. I am surprised he did not try to measure how much air we breathe,” Mike explained cheerfully, trying to reach his beak in the cup without tilting it over. Eventually, Norton had enough of his performance and held the handle in place for him. 

“You can always just eat insects, you know. The park next to the house is a whole dining hall for your kind.” 

“Right. Sometimes, I’d be better off eating a worm than whatever you cook up in that dingy kitchen,” Mike countered almost immediately. He was proud of his words, until he felt something pushing his tail feathers upward and while he was gripping the edge of the cup, the sudden movement made him fall head first into the cup.

“Think about who gives you free food every day, before opening your beak,” Norton hissed, ignoring Annie’s worried glances. She reached out towards the small bird, but stopped herself halfway when she realized the nature of their argument. 

Like two kids who understood the other better than anyone else, yet still chose to bite each other when the possibility presented itself to them. Their words might have been harsh, but they seemed to know how much they can pull on the other’s string before they snapped and never allowed themselves to overstep their boundaries.

Look at me, and only me. It’s almost as if both of them try to communicate this, but they fail to notice each other, she made a note to herself, quietly sipping her tea on the other side of the counter.

Despite sneezing tea for a good half minute, blue bird did not seem to be hurt by the man’s action and after springing to his feet, he made sure to shake the drink off his body in his direction before turning his attention towards her.

”I am terribly sorry for his atrocious behaviour. Working in the mines all his life was not kind to his manners, in fact he ended up severely lacking them.”

“Then you won’t be surprised if you sleep on the windowsill today so you don’t have to deal with my terrible manner.” 

“You would not…”

“Try me,” Norton scoffed, turning his attention back to Annie. “In fact I am starting to reconsider using the discount.

“Then I’ll buy something at your expense,” Mike nodded to himself, lifting his wing as if he was to raise his hand in a classroom. “Would it be alright, Annie dear?” 

“Oh.. Well… I would not mind it, but I also need to make money to get by so I’d prefer if you could pay upfront without really pushing out the deadline,” she hung her head. “I am terribly sorry. You are adorable, but I also need to think about the store. Every penny counts.” 

“Stop trying to get credit on my name.” 

“Not until you tell me what you wanted to buy me here and maybe even be kind enough to act on your idea and buy it:” 

“Oh right,” Annie joined in, holding a small cup in her hand with a strawberry print. “I distracted you from your original goal with my silliness. Please, tell me what you had your eyes on and I’ll bring it here in an instant.”

Posed by the sudden question, Norton could only stare at the woman like a soldier who was left to die in the middle of the battlefield after he was promised help.

Originally, he was driven by a surprisingly sudden idea that kept whispering to him since he had seen what kind of person was Mike’s so called… well, that. Even thinking about a possible relationship between the two made his blood boil to the point he had to tense his muscles to avoid words slipping through his lips.

Just when he thought his plan was finally forgotten by everyone, the woman in front of him decides to bring it up while wearing the most harmless smile.

“Well, I…” he fumbled with his words, feeling the heat rise to his neck, slowly creeping towards his cheeks. “I was thinking about, buying-”

“If you tell me what, I might be able to help,” she put her hands together, excitedly almost as if she was cornering Norton on purpose. 

“There is no need, thank you. I’ll just come back later.”

“You know you can just buy what you wanted, right?” Mike turned towards him and Norton could swear that the bird’s beaks were showing him a cocky smile.

“You make me wonder if you even deserve that,” he scoffed, feeling ashamed by his lack of composure.

“Uhm… Maybe I could help you find what you were looking for?” Annie tried to jump into the conversation, ignoring what the two argued about on purpose. Her attention kept wandering to the streets, where the lamps lining along the small walking street slowly took over the role of providing light for the people passing through the streets.

The curtain of night was pulled over their small town and despite the comfortable atmosphere there was an opening time she probably intended to keep. Nodding to himself Norton heaved a deep, suffering sigh, his eyes immediately finding the small furniture that picked his interest back when he first visited the small toy store.

It was a strange mixture of the swings he had seen people set up under strong tree branches and pole he had seen in bird cages. It took him some time to realize that the small furniture was part of a bigger set. Behind it, she set up several other wooden toys in the middle of the open half of a circus tent with several handmade animal figurines and wooden clowns sitting around them with their arms and legs made of yarns. 

A fitting furniture for a circus bird, but it would have been easier to voice this if said bird was not following his movements like a bird of prey. It was foolish of him to think that this could be done discreetly while he has the loudest possible animal on his shoulder 

Probably Annie had also noticed his strange predicament, because the net moment he could hear her shoes tapping against the wooden floor of the store walking right to the display she had previously set up. 

“I think if you want furniture for your friend, you should be taking the trapeze”, she voiced the thoughts Norton was too afraid to say out loud and took the weight off his shoulder by recommending him what he originally wanted. She looked at the price tag before looking at Norton, “With all of your help and the discount, it will be four shillings and 25 pennies.”

“That would be nice, yes.”

Seeing the relief on his face, Annie gave him a quick wink as she started taking apart the wooden parts, putting them all back into a box filled with crumpled wrapping paper, while making sure to remove the tag.

“What about little ol’ me?” Mike raised his neck. “What about what I want?”

“It’s a gift so you should shut your beak and be happy with it.” 

“Indeed.” the woman joined in, flicking the crest on the top of the bird’s head that stood up excitedly ever since Mike saw the display. “And I am sure you will like it. Trust me.”

Chapter Text

Darkness welcomed them with open arms as they stepped out of Annie’s small toy store and they were forced to face the passage of time, returning to reality after their cozy stay in the land of childhood. The idea of walking back inside and spend another two or three hours without thinking about real life nudged both of them, however before they could have turned around, the door closed behind the duo with a soft click, the bell faintly ringing on the other side of the wall as if it was to say goodbye.

Holding the small package in his hand, Norton gave one last look and a short nod to the shopkeeper before he started walking the direction the streetlamps had led him, hoping that they would eventually take him back to the small market. His original intention to make a short detour quickly grew into a mistake he kept regretting as he looked for any sort of familiarity in his surroundings and failed to notice any landmarks they might have passed before. 

The town around them lacked its usual murmurs, as if every ounce of life was hidden once the starry blanket of night was pulled over the sky. Safe for a few wandering souls in the distance, the townsfolk seemed to heed the advice that was spread alongside the rumors that weaved through the streets and they promptly kept themselves in the safety of their own home. If there was a beast on the loose, it would only find Norton Campbell and Mike Morton idling on the streets.  

As for what this beast was, nobody ever gave a proper explanation.

While he did not feel completely defenseless, part of him could not help but wonder what served the origin point of the warnings he had heard over the past few weeks. Should he stay in the light to protect himself in the case something happens and to provide visibility or should he join the shadows to avoid any additional attention, sneaking around like a rat that knows no rest from its predators? Both possibilities made him open to an attack, but both also had their equal number of positive sides. 

Eventually, despite the memories that resurfaced the deeper the darkness grew around him, he decided hiding suited them better and walked closer to the brown of houses, following their row, while protecting his right side with the natural obstacle they had provided. Occasionally he felt his knees grow weaker when he got far too lost in his own thoughts, but focusing on the goal at hand kept him afloat.

When he reached a street, Norton stopped, listening with his whole body and silently praying that the only noise he would hear was the sound of his own footsteps and the crickets singing in the distance.

As they walked in silence, Norton couldn't help but raise his head towards the small sources of light that occasionally broke the darkness on the other side of the street. Just like paintings that came alive once the veil of darkness covered the town, each window showed a different scenery, sometimes with one or more participants. Passing by, walking, eating, dancing the people were all lost in their own little world.

However, the small smile quickly faded from his lips when among the row of paintings his eyes suddenly met with the gaze of an old lady who was enjoying her evening cigarette from her own window, flicked the whitened ash below herself. Even in the distance he could see the disapproving look she had given him and the light scoff that followed eventually reached his ears. Maybe to her, he might have been the one up to no good. The shady person with the faintly glowing blue bird on his shoulder.

Even he would take notice if a pair like that walked past him in the middle of the night.

However, speaking of Mike... The bird was unusually silent after their departure, the peppy attitude he had shown in front of the clerk was gone with the light almost as if he had forgot his happy-go-lucky mask on one of the shelves. 

From the corner of his eye Norton could see him occasionally shift, his crest brushing against his jawline as he tiptoed closer to the warmth and leant against his skin, only opening his beak when they reached the small square with a fountain.

“So you visited a toy shop for little old me…” he spoke quietly, musing to himself. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the bed.”

“E, you did not need to.” he answered, halting for a moment when he noticed just how strong his voice sounded in the complete silence of the night. ”It was a sudden idea, anyway…”

“Just like coming back to the store for a second time?”

No, he wanted to say, but he already knew it well that with Mike a simple no would not suffice, his statement would have to be followed by an entire explanation. A string of carefully chosen words that should satiate Mike’s hunger for knowledge without revealing anything about his innermost thoughts. It was a task impossible even for well-trained poets, let alone him. A miner who never quite had the chance to learn how to navigate in the labyrinth of feelings and he was afraid that it was too late to learn how to do so.

Burning bridges and running away was more in line with his style. 

Thankfully, when words failed him the bird instinctively took over the conversation, taking it to a different direction.

“Even if you say how there is no thanks needed, I’d like to thank you. Not only because I know how stingy and insufferable you can be when it comes to money, so buying a gift to someone is already a hurdle,” he paused to listen to the deep breath Norton took at his claim, “But… because you make me feel like an actual human being.”

“Well, aren’t you one?”

“In my current state?” Mike let out a bitter laugh, spreading his wings forward “Hardly. For a while, I even doubted that I was human once. I kept thinking, maybe the reason why I cannot turn back, because there is nothing to turn back into. It was nothing but a dream. After all, I’ve been stuck in this body for so long, I cannot even recall my own human features anymore.”

Norton listened. That’s all he could do. He never really thought about how Mike could look as he accepted him as a blue bird, maybe the same applied to him. 

“That pitiful clown is the proof.”

“Yeah. He is.” Mike nodded, his body tensing up when he thought about their last meeting. 

“And if someone like him can be considered as human, then so are you,” Norton finished, his cheeks burning at the statement wishing that he had kept his mouth shut. 

“Uhum,” Mike nodded in agreement, his humming bringing a hint of sunshine into the darkness but somehow urging him to walk faster, as if that could help him out of the situation. However, Mike was already on his case, staring at his profile with a strange glint in his eyes that seemed to sparkle each time they walked near a streetlamp. “I often wonder, what kind of mental image of me lives in your tiny miner brain?”

“If you keep saying things like this you are not going to get an answer from me.” Norton continued to walk. It would be a lie to say that he never thought about what Mike would look like, but associating human features with a small blue bird gives way too many wild guesses. “I think you would look like a typical London mid class lad. Brown eyes, brown hair, ya know those. Messy hair, pristine skin and all. Not a single problem in his life.”

“It’s adorable when you are so certain about being wrong,” Mike chuckled. “Blond hair, blue eyes. But you got the messy hair right. I remember, it used to curl at really awkward degrees and if it was cut too short, it stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Sure. As if I would believe that,” Norton shook his head. “You just told me you barely remember how you look like. There is no way I will believe that you are some perfect fairytale prince with cupid’s hair.”

“Well, I am the bluebird of happiness so might as well be the happy prince since we are at it. If I do end up turning into a human and I end up looking the opposite way, you can hold this against me. But why would you do that when you could be holding me instead?”

“Right.”

“Well, would you?” Mike asked, this time in a hushed voice. A fragment from the countless wishes he had kept within his small chest broke free, eventually hitting Norton in the process, making him gradually stop in his tracks. It would be a lie to say that he never thought about the possibility.

Mike was nosy, insufferable, loud and annoying. He was the perfect mixture of everything he could hate in a person, filling out the checkmarks in his list as if it was his duty. But maybe because Norton couldn’t manage to start hating him on sight like he would do with a human shaped person, he was eventually forced to adjust to his companion, bit by bit accepting his bad habits.

But sometimes, being annoyed and angry was what he needed.

Before he realized, Mike was a vital part of his life. The voice on his shoulder that pushed him out of the shadow in his own forceful way, no matter how Norton kicked and groaned.

Maybe it was the fever that slowly took over his body, or his own will to connect with the bird, but eventually he found himself breaking through his awkward tiptoeing, voicing the thoughts that occasionally surfaced in his mind when he was woken up from a nightmare, desperately grasping for someone in the emptiness.

“I think I would,” he admitted, not missing the way the bird perked up on his shoulder, his crest springing up, before he slumped against his head.

“Do you even know how to do that?” he joked lightly, halfheartedly expecting Norton to back out from the conversation. Even in the darkness he could see the redness that slowly crept to the man’s skin as he looked for an object in the distance to set his gaze upon.

“What do you take me for?”

“Just someone who does not really have any experience when it comes to this kind of stuff,” Mike admitted warmly, leaning against the man’s neck to signal that his words were not meant to offend him. “And before you even mention, yes I do, but I would not mind seeing how my bumbling poet manages with a task a miner couldn’t achieve in his life.” 

“I was working,” Norton raised his voice in defense.

“So was I,” Mike shot back, almost laughing. “Work and personal life are not mutually exclusive to each other, aren’t they?”

Norton did not answer as they were thoughts he learned to keep to himself. By thoughts he meant anything that could be connected to the clown and Mike’s relationship with said clown as if a simple discussion could spark a sudden interest in him, somehow mending the broken relationship between the two. 

A month ago, he would rejoice at the idea of the bird finally leaving his home, but now the sheer thought made anxiety rise up in his chest. He already said too much, but there was a shadowy figure urging him to say more, desperately letting the words fall from his lips as an attempt to communicate his feelings.

Maybe one day.

He swept the words away continuing their walk into the darkness.

* * *

Soon the streets would take a familiar form and the small bakery with its dark windows finally came into view. However, despite the knowledge of being near his own home, Norton’s heart could not find its peace and the more he walked the worse everything seemed.

Despite the calmness he had shown towards the outside world, his nerves were tense, ready to jump at the slightest of noise to fight an unknown foe. When they talked, he was more focused on his own words and did not notice how much Mike’s voice helped him to forget about the veil of darkness and the terrors it brought upon the empty streets. 

The unspoken law of the world that people grew braver when they thought their actions can be disguised by the lack of visibility. Honest words that were hidden in the light were easier to utter when the recipient was nothing more than a voice, an abstract form hidden from the speaker. However, some went further than simple words and used the darkness as an ally to carry out their will driven by greed and personal ire. 

If someone was following them, then the best time to strike was near.

Suddenly his legs stopped as he reached the small park that separated them from the building that signaled their destination. The leaves were faintly illuminated against the light of the streetlamps, but the park itself seemed to collect every ounce of darkness around them, condensing it into a small space.

It should have been part of their daily routine, yet Norton found his legs unable to move in the usual direction. Instead he found himself walking along the edge of the park, following the sidewalk to make a detour.

“We should have just gone through it,” Mike commented. 

“As long as you are hitching a ride on my shoulder we are going where I want to go,” Norton countered before he added.

“A-ha…” Mike did not say more, but his eyes told everything for him.

Despite all the efforts to hide it, it was apparent that Norton did not do well with darkness and avoided it almost on instinct, only choosing it when it deemed to be necessary. But even then, Mike could feel his body tense up as he took deep breaths to calm himself and he did not miss the moment when Norton finally sighed in relief as he reached the light provided by a streetlamp. 

While he found it adorable in some way, the theory also provided explanation to the nights he was dragged out of his slumber, when the lamp on Norton’s night desk was mercilessly turned on, blinding him even through his closed eyes. 

“Are you perhaps afraid of the dark?” he found himself asking, not missing any of the small cues Norton showed him whenever he had a lie in his sleeves.

“No.Where did you even get the idea?”

“Strange. I could have sworn that you kept avoiding the park until now because the idea of being out at night makes you squirmish. It’s not a sign of weakness to admit that you have human emotions, you know,” Mike continued. He was very much aware that Norton would not reveal anything about himself on his own so all he was left with was the ability to play a guessing game. Maybe if he pushes the right buttons Norton will eventually reveal more about himself and give him one key to a corridor with hundreds of doors, all with their own hidden secrets.

“Being reasonable is not a type of fear,” Norton corrected him, but the way he grit his teeth afterwards “You are still sick as a dog and need rest. Being reasonable in this situation is getting home ten minutes earlier,” Mike corrected him, enjoying the way his words cornered the man, not allowing him any way out from the situation.

He attacked with facts and his opponent seemed to give up, eventually just refusing to answer, making it impossible to distinguish the cause of redness on his cheeks. Was it the humiliation of being caught or the fever that burned him from the inside?

Norton would probably die sooner than to reveal more. 

Eventually their conversation died away, giving space for the cacophony of the night orchestra that immediately took the chance and started singing under the guise of darkness. Crickets and various other insects, called their friends for a dance as the leaves moved when the hedgehogs finally thought that the intruders were no longer with them. 

It was a song they were both used to already and served as a perfect background noise to ease the tension caused by the blanket of night. 

Except between the trilling insects and the snorting critters, something else was lurking beneath the rows of the orchestra, disturbing the perfect and well known rhythm. In the distance a dark shadow pulled itself forward. 

Its silhouette reminded him of a boar unlucky townsfolk would see in spring, stumpy, its back peaking at an unnatural point, with something like a mane following the spine of the animal, hugging its thick neck like a scarf, making its thin body look even more sickly. What caused Norton to take a hesitant step back was the size that stood in front of him. While he couldn’t say that he had many encounters with forest wildlife even he had a healthy concept of how big a boar like that should be.

The animal eventually stopped, raising its tusked snout in the air, before its eyes finally found Norton, turning towards him while stomping the ground with its hoofed legs. 

Norton took a hesitant step back, the muscles in his body tensing up at the unanticipated situation. 

“I don’t think he wants to hurt us…” Mike whispered in his ears, but from his tone of voice it was obvious that even he doubted his own words. From the look of it the boar was anything but friendly and it was ready to prove this. 

“Well, I don’t want to stay here to find out,” Norton muttered back, taking another step.

“Trust me. He is friendly…”

If Norton had the luxury to throw him a scolding look without risking a frontal attack from the boar, he would have already done it several times. 

Even he knew that meeting a boar in spring was never a good sign and he did not need to grow up near a forest to arrive at this conclusion. Statements like these coming from an enchanted bird who should have been aware of the incalculable nature of these animals!

Just when Norton was about to state these thoughts, a loud snort, vibrated in the night air, immediately drowning out the night orchestra to make space for its own war cry. 

The moment the boar started running was the same moment when Norton jumped over the short stone fence that was supposed to serve as a barrier between the park and the street, pushing his body over the low bushes, and wading through the sea of trees before he finally found the path that led through the park.

Run, his body told him despite the burning sensation that took over his lungs. Norton did, occasionally stumbling forward when the strength seemed to slip away from his legs, reminding him that he was still not as healthy as he wanted to be. Even the adrenaline coursing through his body couldn’t make him forget about this and after a minute of running forward he was forced to lean against a tree allowing the coughs to finally wreck his body, forcing him to the ground as his fingers became white from gripping the tree.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs refused to listen and painfully twisting each time he tried to. Slowly, he tumbled forward, clawing at his necktie and throwing the hat to the ground. It did not help, his body was still burning and the air wouldn’t come.  

Just like that day. Just like when the boulders closed around him. 

He was dying.

He was dying for good.

As the colour slowly drained away from his face, he pressed his hands over his mouth, he tried to suppress a fit of coughs as his body convulsed.

“Maybe… we should stop for a while. I doubt that he followed us or even if he did he won’t be hurting us. You can actually trust my word on this. Just sit down for a while and take a rest,” Mike’s voice broke through the darkness like a gentle ray of the morning sun, slowly chasing away the static noise that kept torturing him. As long as he was there, getting through the night seemed to be possible.

The sweat slowly soaked into his shirt, sticking to his skin, but he could finally hear his own thoughts that were drowned out by the heart that suddenly decided to jump into his throat.

“We are almost there,” Norton said, through the ringing of his ears, straightening his back and he started walking. His steps were heavy, almost as if someone tied rocks to his shoes, but he prevailed, marching forward, even when his knees buckled beneath him.

“Just do me a favour and don’t overexert yourself. I am but a small bird who cannot carry more than his weight and I cannot afford my poet to spend the night outside,” Mike laughed on his shoulder, but worry seeped through the seams of his mask of cheerfulness. A strange feeling got a hold of Norton as he listened, a mixture of guilt and a secret fondness he would never voice it out loud and to make sure, he even swept these thoughts away the moment they appeared.

The wind around them picked up, rustling the leaves once it realized that the cheerful midnight orchestra had put away their instruments for good. The owl cooed above their head, its wings soundlessly gliding between the branches of the small park, waiting for a rodent or a bat to come its way and the hedgehogs soon returned to their evening routine, marching through the fresh spring flower beds.

However, despite the idyllic surroundings, Norton could never truly feel relieved. The boar gave up far too easily for his liking and even if it was due to the shortness of its legs, he did not truly believe that they had seen it the last time. Animals like this one were persistent when it came to chasing.

Walking forward, he could see the decorated iron gates that served as the entrance from their side of the street. However, the gates that were kept closed by night were pushed to and fro by the winds, occasionally hitting the trees in their range and letting out a pitiful metallic creak. 

Just barely, he found himself slowing down as his body tensed up again. A feeling of panic slowly gripped into his heart and refused to let go. Like a bird that finally found its prey, sinking his talons deeper as he walked. 

In the light of a streetlamp the stocky silhouette of a boar appeared again, tapping the ground with its front legs as it lowered its head, threateningly shaking from side to side.

“What did you say about it not being hostile…?” Norton found himself asking.

“I… He should not be. He is not!” Mike stared at the animal in disbelief.  

“Well I am not going to wait around to see it,” he started walking backward, his eyes never leaving the animal until the boar started its maddened dash towards him.

Hooves pattering against the setted path of the park and before Norton had a chance to react the side if its body crashed into his legs pulling the earth from under him as he fell on the ground for a second time that night.

Norton had no idea on how to react or protect himself aside from trying to shield his body from the angry stomps and the tusk that kept aiming for his side.

"Stop it," Mike muttered on his shoulder in disbelief, his claws digging into his shoulder until they punctured his skin. A small pain compared to the animal's relentless attacks and the dizziness that slowly attracted an army of ants into his limbs, making them heavier and harder to lift.

"Stop already!" Mike repeated again.

And again.

And again.

His voice filled the chaos like a desperate song until he seemingly could not take it anymore and with the fluttering sound, he landed in front of Norton.

"I said stop! I am not going to stand for myself if you don't!"

With the crest on his head standing, he raised his wings in a protective manner, showing off his yellow coverts. 

Like the mouse who challenged the rampaging elephant, Mike seemed to triumph over the boar as it halted his relentless attacks almost immediately.

“I am not in danger. I swear. I am here on my own no matter what he had told you, so you can stop attacking my almost-fiancé,” Mike's words only confused Norton even more as he sat on the pavement, ready to defend himself in case the animal changed its mind and suddenly turned hostile again.

And yet, the boar seemed to calm down at his words, its nostrils widening then narrowing as it let out a soft grunt. If it opened its mouth it could devour the bird with a single bite and in that case Norton was ready to spring to his feet and collect his remaining strength for one last fight.

However, what he anticipated would never arrive, instead the boar gently nudged the bird with its snout and Mike was laughing in return.

“I missed you too, but I swear I am not in danger. He looks unreliable, especially now, but he is kind, trust me!”

The boar stomped with his hooves almost as if it was disagreeing with the bird. Walking around, Norton could see how it tried to grab one of the longer tail feathers, possibly to pull the bird along, away from the human that hurt him.

In that moment, Norton did not know what came over him, his hands moved on their own, reaching for the small body and snatching him away from the animal, holding the bird close to his chest as he raised his elbows to shield him from the boar.

The attack did not come, instead the animal let out a pitiful whine. Norton did not need to be an animal whisperer to know it was the sign of worry, but truthfully speaking, he did not care. Mike wanted to stay with him, for the first time someone wanted him around and not even a bear could take this away from him.

“I am not sure if you understand me, but I’ll keep him safe. Been doing that for a while now. I do an awful job at it, don’t worry I am aware, but the only way to make me give up on him if Mike says this in my face. Otherwise, I am afraid you have to fight me, fair and proper.”

“You don’t need to,” Mike whispered in disbelief, biting into his finger as a warning. “I’d appreciate if you stopped picking fights with everyone you meet.”

“You are truly insufferable at times. You can go with the boar if you want, I won’t stop you then.”

“No, no, no, I loved that part when you were ready to fight the world for me, keep going! Just leave him out of this.”

The boar only shook his head, his eyes never leaving the small blue bird almost as if he was still begging Mike to leave with him. However, even he had to admit that there was nothing to be done and once Mike made his decision he would only cause more harm if he tried to force his way.

It’s back rose as the animal let out a loud sigh. Slowly, it took a few steps closer, keeping its sorrowful eyes on the bird, understanding the weight of their meeting.

Their stormy reunion was nothing more than a farewell in disguise.

Hanging his head, he eventually turned around, his hooves pattering on the pavement as its body grew smaller in the darkness leaving behind a dishevelled poet and a quiet bird. Both lost in the maze of their own thoughts and feelings.

“This was another thing you won’t tell me about,” Norton stated when the boar was finally out of sight.

“If you get us home, I might think about it.”

Chapter Text

The following day, Mike decided to take matters into his own wings and he would finally sew away the loose ends that kept getting more and more tangled up as time passed. There was no other choice.

Running around town all night Norton’s condition plummeted back into a state of pained coughs overnight, almost giving him a heart attack when he woke up to his wheezing breaths and the pained expression Norton gave him as he hunched over, trying to contain the fit. Even if Mike felt comfortable sitting on his shoulder and listening to his complains, there was no way he would ask him to leave the house, especially when it took him almost an hour of begging to have him call Keogh about his absence.

A rare win among the hundreds of failures he had to suffer whenever he tried to force Norton to rest. Now he was either sleeping or suffering through the pain of producing a poem that would suffice for the publishing proposal. There was a high chance that he still had no idea what he was expected to write, but Mike would play the role of a kind critic later when Norton had collected a sea of crumpled papers around himself.

For now he quietly flew from one point to another, taking a rest whenever he felt exhaustion catching up to him.

His wings did not work as well anymore. 

They longed for their original state that he had left behind in the forest and did not miss a chance to send a numbing prickling feeling through his bones to remind him of this fact each time he fluttered those aching wings. The curse of forcing himself into this small form had started catching up to him already and with time, it would smite him with its hammer.

That was the price he paid for playing the blue bird of happiness without being qualified for the role.

Yet he’d found himself unbothered by this fact. After years of waiting alone in the dark forest, now that he had finally grabbed into the string of happiness he made sure to tie it around his legs to never let it go, grabbing onto it as he flew through the streets looking for a glimpse of his past, seeking the feeling of familiarity he had missed for the past years.

However, no matter where he went, the hotel in which Joker was supposed to reside carefully avoided him. There were no signs nor plaques, and the door with colourful flags ended up being nothing more than a small office for travellers.

Soon he found himself sitting on the edge of a bench, staring at the people passing by, none of them truly noticing his helpless glances, and the wings that hung slightly at his sides, reaching down to the wooden board.

It felt like an impossible task and part of him started regretting leaving Norton behind when he obviously needed to have someone chew on his ears for not sitting still.

“Now where is that good for nothing poet from your side?” a voice brought him out from the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Looking up his blue eyes met a pair of amber, but he could not determine the emotions hidden within them as Patricia had the ability to conceal her thoughts better than anyone he had ever known.

Mike looked around as if to check whether or not his words would be heard by anyone else, but everyone seemed to be far too deep in their own problems to notice a talking bird.

“At home. If he is not, I’ll zigzag his ears when I find him,” he whispered, heaving a sigh in defeat. “He just does not know when to stop and take a break, does he?”

“No, he does not,” Patricia nodded, fluttering her long skirt as she sat down next to the bird. At first, she did not say anything, just pulled her small hand bag to her lap as she closed her eyes to enjoy the tender spring sun. “But it’s a good thing you managed to talk some sense into him. You don’t want to know the words he called me when I dared to tell him the same. But he straight up thought Mrs. Keogh would fire him on the spot, so I cannot blame him for his panic.”

“His vocabulary can be quite colourful when he needs to send people to hell,” Mike found himself snorting at the realization. Patricia just smiled to herself, giving him a barely visible nod. It took her a few seconds to quietly add,

“He was a worker whose life depended on productivity... I wish I could say I don’t know the feeling.”

It seemed with Norton there was a tango that everyone had to dance at least once. Old habits die hard and habits that he grew up into die even harder. Despite claiming to be a poet, he could never quite leave the mines behind, pulling and pushing the same amount of weight each day, as if stopping would kill him on the spot.

There was really no winning with him.

“It’s only natural,” Patricia spoke. “But he is changing just like all of us do as time marches on. Just like how I never expected you to leave his side and sit by yourself. For a while I thought you were glued to his shoulder.”

“Well technically I am not by myself anymore,” Mike joked, but the crest on his head slim against his feathers as he heaved a sigh. 

Patricia did not say a word to his statement, her attention was seemingly on the people passing by. Trying to keep up the conversation, Mike opened his beak to speak.

“By the by, where were you headed before I rudely interrupted you?”

“Just a small errand. Mrs. Keogh was kind enough to let me out of prison for a day.”

“Is it truly like a prison?” Mike chuckled.

“You have seen it, haven't you?”

“It was far from prison.”

“Spend almost all of your days at the same place and anything can feel like a prison filled with loud people,” Patricia shrugged. It’s been a while since she had a chance to talk what was on her mind, and Mrs. Keogh was not necessarily the best partner to make comments about the dark little office and the towers of books Patricia needed to be written up into a catalogue. 

So she took her chance with the small bird she had already felt to be partners in crime in regards to the case of a depressed poet.

“I’d love to work at a place like that again,” Mike admitted, if he did not have a beak he would have given her a rueful smile. “I grew up in a noisy place so sometimes I find myself longing to the hustle-bustle and the way people just never stop. I’d give anything to have that back in my life…”

Patricia looked at the bird. She never cared much about other people, but there was something about Mr. Morton that drew a rare sign of sympathy out of her. She did not pity him in a way she pitied most of her co-workers, it was different, way kinder. It surprised her, but also there was something amusing about the whole situation that pushed her to learn more about the curious curse this man had been struck with.

“Would you like to join me for coffee? Afterwards I could help you with what you were looking for.”

“I was not looking for anything,” Mike chirped, the crest suddenly standing on his head, but all he got was a knowing stare, strict just like the air around Patricia. “But of course I am not against getting some help.”

* * *

The small bakery Patricia took him was not too far away from the market and Annie’s store and if Mike were to fly there it wouldn’t have taken him five minutes to reach his destination and have a chat with the toymaker. He considered it for a moment, but the idea was gone as fast as it came. Soon, his attention was back on the dark skinned woman who made her order at the counter while he was waiting at a table outside, sitting on the wooden surface while his tail feathers hung at the edge.

When Patricia returned she carried two plates with her, setting one down in front of Mike. It contained a single scone, the jam and the cream mixing evenly in a thick layer where it was cut in half, earning a confused gaze from Mike as he kept looking at Patricia then the food in front of him.

“Campbell never buys you anything, right?” she asked but it felt more like a confirmation for herself. Mike was tempted to fib a little, but eventually he ended up choosing to be honest. It might be useful for Norton to be seen in a better light for the future.

“Actually, he has spent most of his allowance on me…” he admitted it like it was a secret, pulling his wing over his beak.

This made Patricia halt for a second, frowning even when the small white cup was placed in front of her paired with a small cup of water that she had handed to Mike.

“Just what did you do to that man,” she mumbled, her frown never leaving her face. “You must be truly magical if you got him to spend money on you on his own.”

“I wish my magic could extend a bit further, but it’s a good first step,” He found himself making a note, before he started pecking away the scone Patricia had ordered for him. Part of the flavours were lost due to his beak and how hard it was to take all three layers in his mouth at the same time. As much as he appreciated the woman’s kindness some things were just simply meant to be eaten in two bites. 

Sitting back his attention wandered to the cup in front of Patricia. The strong earthy smell and the dark brown colour immediately revealed the nature of the drink to him.

Coffee did not make a big splash in the countryside and seeing it being sold anywhere was considered to be rare. Even in the circus, it was gifted to Bernard by someone who travelled from London just to meet him. Mike still remembers how he stole a bit from the black grounded powder only to make the worst, most bitter drink of his life and no amount of sugar would wash the taste away.

And yet, Patricia seemed to have no problem raising the coffee to her lips and her expression remained the same as she drank. It fascinated Mike to the point he couldn’t help voicing his wonder.

“I’ve never seen anyone be able to drink coffee like this.” 

He pulled his neck closer to his body, wondering if he had said something bad when Patricia did not answer, but the woman just put down the cup with a soft clink. Her expression remained serious, but Mike noticed a sense of pride in those golden eyes almost as if she took his careless comment as a compliment. 

“Coffee always reminds me of my home, but it’s small to find it in a small town like this,” she explained, smiling when Mike tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What? You thought I was born in England?”

“No, no. Your accent is very telling, just like Norton’s, I just did not expect you to be from that far away.”

“My accent?” Patricia let out a small chuckle, taking a sip from her drink.

“Well, humble little me was a circus artist so fate had drifted me together with all kind of people from all over the world.“

“What a curious little bird you are… I don’t think you have ever mentioned this,” Patricia noted, before purposefully stirring away the attention from herself. There were several events in her life that were better left in the darkness where they belonged, especially on a spring day such as this. Mike did not seem to notice her little shift in the discussion and welcomed the question posed for him.

“Cannot really call myself an acrobat in this state either,” he admitted, his voice holding a sliver of regret behind the cheerful tone. “But believe it or not, I was once the star of the wire! Balancing with knives and jumping over hoops.”

Standing up he lifted one of his legs in the air, pushing it back just like he always did in a routine. His body refused to answer when he wanted to jump so it felt more comical than graceful, almost falling in his stomach, before forcing out a small laugh, “As you can see there is still some trouble with the new show, but I’ll work through it bit by bit.”

“I’d love to see it being performed the way you intended,” Patricia nodded, leaning forward.

“Don’t worry, you will be among the first people I invite! Once I finally free myself from this form, I’ll be an unstoppable star in the circus world!”

Mike had a curse placed upon him. She would know it even if she was not well-versed in them, but as someone who had spent years of her life exploring the darker waters of magic it was obvious the moment Norton had brought the bird to their doorstep. 

Mike radiated a kind of magic that was well known in the northern part of the island and traces of the original spell was clearly visible in the fibres of his feathers even if Patricia did not mention it the first time they had met. However, she also had to admit it was not something she could break by force. It was far too ancient and archaic for that and even a single attempt might bring unseen consequences.

If she had the chance she would’ve loved to meet whoever was powerful enough to inflict a permanent transformation spell such as this, but for now she had to focus on the person suffering from its effects.

“I assume you have tried breaking the curse,” she muttered, but Mike just let out a tired laugh.

“Oh, I tried it more than once and as you can see,” he spread his wings, tiptoeing around so Patricia could get good luck of him from both sides. “Still a bird.”

“So it’s a type of magic where a certain condition has to be met,” Patricia nodded to herself. “You have the lock, but without a key provided. Interesting…”

“At this point I am not even sure what the condition is anymore. I thought it would be like in fairy tales. Find yourself someone who takes you to the altar and you will magically turn back into a human! Apparently, even those can lie.”

“They do have their roots in reality. After all, we live in a world where witches still exist and grimalkins hold their meetings on moonless nights. But I do believe yours is more than just getting married and the easiest way would be to thread back the seams on the previous candidates. Maybe what you needed to break the curse was not the marriage itself, that’s what I am saying.”

Mike could only shake his head in disbelief, as Patricia’s words forcefully pushed him down a road that he had carefully avoided up until now. On the beautiful spring day, she accidentally covered his entire world in darkness, bringing up thoughts and memories he wished to keep hidden.

He sucked in a breath as if to shake them off himself, but they refused to leave. Eventually he opened his beak, allowing a sorrowful voice to break free from its chains.

“The first time I tried was with my old lover. We have failed and what a disastrous failure it was,” he let out a rueful laugh. “Some people would do everything to stay together even after a failure like that, but I was furious. Disappointed. How can you say that marrying someone I love more than anything is not enough?! Were our feelings false the whole time? And to twist a knife in my heart, when I told him to leave, he left, reassuring me of his love, but still allowing my anger to control his actions,” his voice broke. The tears would not come, they never did ever since he was forced into his feathery body, but this did not mean his body would not try to mimic a reaction he carried through his life. 

“What was the second time?”

“Norton. But as you can see it did not exactly go as I planned. Still a bird,” he lifted his wings, revealing his white under feathers. 

Patricia could only hum, closing her eyes for a moment as if she tried to think through the information Mike just provided for her. She wished she could have the ability to help the man caged in the body of a bird, but she was more prominent in inflicting curses rather than lifting them. 

She pitied Mike, but some things were against her nature as a sorcerer.

“The first case most likely did not work because two curses suffocated each other. If I were to explain, you both had the lock and the key but they too, were cursed not to fit by default, so no matter how many times he proclaimed his love for you his words would not have the same effect even if his feelings were true.” Mike visibly deflated at her statement, his legs hitting against the tablecloth as he fell into a sitting position in his own awkward ways.

He was speechless, but Patricia could tell that the truth about his first failure was devastating to learn. The truth doesn’t always help people, after all.

“For Norton’s case, did you love him when you asked him to marry you?”

“Absolutely not!” he forced a laugh. “He was a pretentious arse who tricked me into helping him only to leave me behind! I couldn’t stand him!”

“Maybe you should try again now,” Patricia offered her final piece of thought, treading carefully in this conversation.

“It would not work.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because even if I love him more than my own life, I just know he doesn't feel the same way about me. To Norton I am just an annoying bird and another mouth to feed.”

“I’d love to argue about that, but I don’t think I can convince you to change your mind. Love comes in all shape or form and sometimes we expect the most visible incarnation, while it’s been with us for longer than we could imagine,” she admitted in exasperation, but when she saw that Mike still shook his head she decided to close the conversation by finishing her coffee to halt an irritated comment. “Just promise me to bring this up to him. At least once.”

“That can be arranged. I know the results already, but I also believe you. However, before that, would you help me find a hotel? There is someone I need to talk to,” he whispered, haltingly returning to his scone when he felt that the conversation became too personal even for his liking. 

Knowing that he had pushed away his own happiness over a misunderstanding still weighed on his heart, pushing him into deeper and deeper despair when he realised that the feeling of first love no longer lingered in his heart and nothing could revive it anymore.

He understood that Patricia only wanted to help, but he was not sure if he would be able to bear a second heartbreak, especially if his feelings were met with rejection. Norton might have warmed up to him, but he doubted those feelings ever grew past the affection of having a pet or a loud friend.

He appreciated the help, but it came far too late and in the end he just did what he knew best and hid behind a mask.

As a bird with nothing human to its features, it was the easiest thing to do.

Chapter Text

At times, Mike had to stop and wonder if Patricia was a helper sent by some unseen force or maybe she was just used to helping people she liked that she naturally took up the tone she needed to use to push them towards some sort of solution to their problems. In Norton’s case, she was a strict mentor who did not half to call him out and order him around to teach him a lesson. For him, she was a kind friend, holding out a hand when he needed her the most turning the aimless wanderings into a journey with a goal.

He did not tell her much, but before he knew it, the nameless hotel, not only gained a name but also an address, she was taking him on her shoulder, enjoying the comfortable silence that sat between them.

She did not ask questions, she didn't even try to uncover the idea that led Mike so far away from the safety and warmth Norton could provide and this level of trust made his small heart swell a little bit and eased the weight on his shoulders.

She accepted Mike’s decision and did her best to provide a solution even if its outcome was still shrouded in mystery. What Mike wanted to do was more important for her, than to voice her thoughts on what Mike needed to do.

Their journey eventually led to a small hotel at the main square, its rooms looking at the fountain with the statue of a horse and his rider, pointing forward to unseen enemies that might pour out from the bakery at any given moment. The windows had geraniums flowing towards the ground like many colourful waterfalls, each of them carefully being plucked from their dead flowers and stems adding to the pristine look to the building.

For someone who had spent the majority of his life in wagons and tents the thought of Joker staying at a hotel, surrounded by proper walls was almost comical. But then again it’s not like he was not experiencing the joy of having a permanent roof over his head lately after sleeping in scooped out trees and high branches for years.

“Are you going to be okay alone?” Patricia asked, her voice held a hint of concern, but Mike couldn’t really determine the reason behind it. She was not the type of person who would worry for anyone. In the end he decided to play the role he was used to.

“Of course, my dear Patricia,” he leaned forward in a theatrical manner using the most carefree tone he could muster. “Thanks to our meeting I managed to gather enough courage for this meeting. While it would be nice if I could avoid it, but alas… this has to be done for both of our sake. I just wish it wasn't this hard to begin with.“

“Feelings are always hard to talk about, even if both of you happen to be adults,” she hummed.

“That’s quite reassuring,” Mike laughed weakly. His eyes never left the windows of the building wondering which one would hide the person who was once his whole world.

He wished he did not have to deal with this. He wished he was not the one seeking out Joker in his own fortress to beg for attendance after the battle between them. But he did not have the luxury of having Joker extend the same kind of thoughts in his way because stepping forward would require him to act first. Something he seldom did in his lifetime. However, he knew if Joker were to be left alone longer with no answers given to questions, he had never even took the time to ask, things might end up ugly.

“You can turn back now, but it won’t make your relationship less painful. That’s all I can say in the matter in case you had second thoughts.”

“I know… believe me, I know. But it does not help me feel like a villain who is on his way to crush someone’s last glimpse of hope. I know him. He is upset and hurt and it’s because of me. I want to convey my feelings at the same time, it does not feel right.”

“And it never will. The time is never right for these discussions, but they happen whether you like it or not. The more you let it fester the worse it gets.” Patricia’s voice spoke about a future he had wanted to avoid at all cost, yet Mike had felt that despite the friendly connection they had shared, the woman failed to understand his feelings. She did not see his fight against the dark waves that threatened to swallow him and pull him down into the murky abyss, his colours slowly fading as the ink-like feelings seeped into his pores, killing him slowly. 

Joker used to be the centre of his world. The moon that enamoured him with its melancholic nature and the softness of his quiet words. His light kept him hopeful through the lonely seasons he had to spend in the forest and helped him keep his humanity in the silence of his own thoughts. 

At the time, Mike did not notice how the moon had trapped him in a cage made of branches and how he became nothing more than a distant thought for the other. And just like the sparrow in that old children’s story, there was always something preventing Joker from seeing him. Excuse after excuse to prevent him from facing failure. From facing Mike.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, calming his heart. Norton was waiting for him. His annoying joke of a poet who kept contradicting himself with his own kindness was waiting for his return sitting in the sea of abandoned drafts as his gaze wandered towards the window where Mike had taken off just a few hours before.

The sooner he meets Joker, the sooner he can see that moody frown and scold him for refusing to rest. That’s what he had to keep in mind.

Turning around, his golden eyes had met with Patricia's amber before he spread his wings and bowed towards her.

“I’d like to thank you for humouring me up until now and taking some weight off my heart. Any bluebird of happiness would feel grateful to have a fairy such as you rush to his help in the time of need.”

Patricia gave him an understanding nod, playing along with the self-proclaimed fairy-tale creature. Even if she said what’s on her mind she knew that her words would just scatter like dust in the wind. The magic that used to glow under her fingertips became nothing more than a flickering flame dancing on the top of a candle.

A dull ache winded itself into her heart as the small bird took off, but she knew it better than to meddle in the stories of others. 

* * *

Flying from window to window Mike peeked into every room, looking for any sign that could reveal to him the room occupied by his old friend after all, he knew most of his belongings. From the colours of his shirts to the smallest trinkets and props Joker liked to carry around. Mike treated them as his own so their image remained in his memory. 

And there it was. In one of the rooms of the second floor he noticed a small metalbox on the table, next to it the old polkadot scarf was folded into a small square. Joker would never go anywhere without it as the scarf was one of his most treasured possessions, posing as the first birthday gift he had ever gotten in his life and held the memory of that day within its seams. He still remembered his pitiful crying face as he hugged the gaudy piece of cloth to his chest before throwing his arms around Mike in an act of gratitude.

Almost a decade had passed since, but the cloth barely showed any need for mending and its yellow dots still glowed cheerfully against the red background. To think that Joker would keep his memories so close spent a dull ache through his heart, forcing him to heave a sigh.

Seeing Joker to treasure him so much, when his feelings have already faded into memories, was a pain he never thought he would experience. But at the same time, it was Joker’s fault for acting the way he did, burning down the bridges between them without ever looking back.

Ruffling his feather, he had looked at the window that was left open in order to let the room air out while the person paying for it was away. Little did Joker know that he had given him the perfect opportunity to hop to the window frame and by climbing to the top of it, glide inside, landing on the table right next to the scarf. 

Now all he needed was the star of the discussion to arrive. Fortunately, waiting for Joker was something he had far too much experience with.

* * *

He did not understand the words spoken to him, but the tone of worry made him sprung to his feet, instinctively looking for Norton only for his gaze to meet with a familiar pair of grey and forcefully get dragged back to the goal he had selfishly set for himself.

“Can’t a bird even sleep in peace,” he complained, stretching his wings and flapping them a few times. 

“Are you seriously saying this after breaking into my hotel room?” the man looked at him in disbelief, furrowing his thick eyebrows as he pushed the top of Mike’s head with his index finger.

“Leaving your window open in an unknown place might attract uninvited guests, among them, me” Mike shrugged. After what happened at Orpheus's manor, he was surprised by Joker’s casual tone and how fast they fell back into their old to and fro, but he couldn’t complain. At least one less thing to worry about. “I thought you would be happier to see me considering how lively your reaction was at that author’s house.”

“You know it well that I am always happy to see you and I would not have it any other way. It’s just…”

“Complicated, yeah. But this time it was not me who made things the way they are,” he raised his wings in defence. Joker looked like he wanted to argue, but instead of words his face gradually became redder as the words refused to form a proper sentence.

He wanted to tell far too many things, but none of them seemed to fit the situation.

“I am sorry,” he managed in the end, hanging his head in shame.

“Only apologise if you mean it,” Mike warned him. 

“B-But I do.”

“Then why did it take you years to even rear your head in this region? If you have truly cared about me, if you had even an inkling of love left for me in your heart then you would have taken your time to at least visit me once a while and make sure that I am not dead. So please, at least spare me your false apologies.”

Running a hand through his red hair, Joker shook his head tapping the floor with his healthy leg. Unlike Norton he was bad at hiding his emotions and tended to run away at the first sign of confrontation, like a circus animal that had to experience far too many strikes at the hand of the world around him.

However, locked in the tiny room together with Mike, he couldn’t use his usual solutions and he was suddenly forced to face the consequences of his decisions. Tumbling backward, he weakly dragged himself to the bed where the furniture creaked under his weight.

“I feel sorry. I truly do,” he looked up at Mike, tears glistening in his eyes and suddenly Mike realised despite everything, he couldn’t muster up enough reasons to justify any more harsh words no matter how much he had been suffering in the past. 

Joker was a pitiful fool, but so was he.

Maybe because he had spent so much time together with Norton he was able to embrace these feelings as they were. It was over. There was nothing to repair about their relationship anymore that was something he wanted Joker to accept. 

“And so do I,” Mike shook his head. “But the ship has sailed without us. No amount of apologies will make my feelings change.”

“Even if it costs you your life?” a painful sound escaped Joker's throat. His eyes burned as he looked up to the small bird. “Maybe he did not notice it yet, but I know how this damn curse works. This form is killing you…”

“I already made peace with that.” His words seemed to shock the man. “Don’t give me that look. I am not going to change my mind. He needs a cute little bird to remind him of his ars poetica, not a giant fluffball who fills up his entire living room and cannot do anything.”

“You are going to die, how can you be so calm about this?! All you have to do is to change back into your bigger form and rest… Is that so hard to ask? At least that. At least keep living. I don’t even ask you to love me anymore…”

A sob escaped Joker’s lips sending pain through Mike’s heart as he watched him fall apart, the emotions he had kept bottled up suddenly breaking free of their containment. Eventually he found himself flying to Joker, perching on his knees, trying to look into those sad grey eyes.

“Listen, Mike. I did my best to protect you, because I loved you… No, I still love you. And I want to see you again and again, for many years even if you no longer love me nor belong to me. But in order to do that, I cannot let you go back to him, if you just quietly await your own death,” the tears finally broke free, as he let out a pitiful sniff. Looking at a small bird never filled anyone with the amount of sorrow that he had to live through in that moment. “I don’t want you to die because you keep chasing someone you cannot have… I love you, Mike. More than you can imagine. So just once, please listen to me…”

“Joker, what I needed was not protection,” he shook his head, sadness sneaking its way into his voice as his crest fell against his blue feathers. “And locking who you love away from the world only protects one person and that is not me. We both know that.”

“It’s just… It’s…” he sobbed, running his hand over Mike’s feathered back. 

“It is what it is. I made my decision.”

Mike did not try to comfort him. There was no point to do so. There were tears that had to be shed in order for them to be able to exist next to each other even if his heart was slowly breaking in his chest each time those fingers touched his feathers almost like he could break under the smallest of pressure. 

Because for Joker, Mike was something fragile. 

A treasure that should be kept away from prying glances in order to protect it and he gradually lost the ability to see Mike the way he used to be to the point Mike had to wonder if he loved him or the possibility of having someone. Looking up at the pitiful face, reddened by tears that silently kept rolling down the man’s pale skin, he really couldn’t tell and for now this was a topic he did not want to wade deeper into before allowing Joker to calm himself. 

“You know, despite everything that happened I was really happy to see you again…”

“You almost clawed my eyes out,” Joker sniffled, a bitter smile spreading across his lips as his shoulders finally loosened up. 

“Details, my arch-enemies” he ruffled his feathers. “Not only did you appear out of the blue, but you were with Orpheus out of all people. Anyone who knows him would be angry to see his old sweetheart casually having tea in that fancy cursed manor of that good for nothing scam. Come to think of it, what were you doing there? You hardly ever visited the forest, let alone this town. What changed so suddenly?”

“Actually…” he took a deep breath to try to stop his tears, but they refused to stop. “Orpheus was the one who asked me to visit. One day a letter arrived stating that he had met someone I told him about and my assistance was needed because you were in danger.”

“The only source of danger in my life was Orpheus,” Mike answered almost immediately. Hearing Joker’s side of the story angered him and the more words left those deformed lips, the more his muscles tensed up.

If it wasn’t for that spineless good for nothing author, Joker wouldn’t even think about visiting him, he wouldn’t think about how Mike was doing and how he tried to get in the forest. But when Orpheus gave him a call, Joker jumped like a hound that knew no limits.

Orpheus, Orpheus, Orpheus… Why did everything have to lead back to him? Why did he have all the threads like a masterful puppeteer?

“What do you mean?” Joker frowned at his words, his hands stopping mid movement.

“Compared to him Pinocchio is a saint.” Mike let out a bitter laugh as he shook Joker’s hand off his back. It did not feel right nor comfortable anymore. “Isn’t it strange, how suddenly he notified you? It was never about helping you, it was about annoying his rival and hurting him anywhere he could.”

“I’ve heard a different story. That his so called rival, the person you have latched onto, is a murderer.”

Mike felt like laughing. 

“And yet, he still gave money to this murderer! How ironic! Instead of taking him to court as he should have, he allowed this so-called murderer to walk around freely, even falling for his game of bribery with a fake contempt on his face.”

“Mike, the person you— that bastard blew up a mine,” Joker argued, begging for Mike’s attention, but he was still unaware of the fact that he had lost him the moment he mentioned the reason for his stay. What little adoration he had left for the man in front of him evaporated like a puff of smoke on a windy day. 

“And then Orpheus wrote his story and experiences into a book under the guise of helping him. That makes them even,” he replied in a low voice. “I am pretty sure whatever you have told him when he first sought you out can be found written down in one of his books used to provide money for him through your experiences and feelings. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back to my murderer, gotta make sure he is not off causing trouble again before your author friend writes another book about his crimes.”

“Mike, I—” Joker suddenly put his palm over his back, preventing him from spreading his wings. “At least let me take you home.”

“Just to be sure, what do you mean by home?”

Joker pursed his lips. Of course, he would. He still did not accept that the battle was lost, but he would do anything just to keep Mike close, even for a little while.

“To Campbell”s.”

“In that case, I accept the offer.”

Chapter Text

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, the rays of the sun busied themselves by painting the streets with the colours of gentle orange, brightening up the town with a peculiar shade that was slowly going farther from spring, but not quite reaching the vividness of the following season. When they reached Mike’s brilliant blue feathers he felt the hint of summer hiding in their brushes, embracing his back with their blanket made of light. Closing his blue eyes he enjoyed the way they warmed up his aching body, allowing himself to finally relax the tired wings that grew wearier by the day.

Although with Joker this was far less easy.

Compared to Norton, his rhythm was uneven, and his limping made his shoulder descend a bit faster, forcing Mike to latch himself into the leather coat of the clown by wedging the tips of his small claws into the seams on the top. It was ruining the fabric, and he could see the thin black layer slowly breaking, but he couldn’t care less.

He did not want to accept the offer. He thought about refusing it several times or just changing his mind to clumsily fly back home instead, but eventually he successfully convinced himself the time they would spend together finally put an end to their aimless writhing and finally help him reach some sort of closure.

Looking at the sorrowful gaze on Joker’s face, he started doubting his own decisions.

The town around them was quiet, almost as if it tried to give them some space to think and be alone with their silence as they both tried to calm their racing thoughts and the dull ache that came with their reunion. Mike opened his beak to speak, to bring up something that would distract the both of them, but he soon found out that no matter how hard he looked for it, he just couldn’t find a topic that could be safely brought into the conversation without hurting them both. 

He wanted to talk about Norton, but he could not.

He wanted to talk about his current life, but it would include Norton.

Traces of the poet were scattered across his life like small rose chafer bugs wearing the colours of Norton coat glistening in the sun wherever he looked. The pesky creatures settled on his thoughts, refusing to leave him alone even when he tried to focus his attention on the person next to him.

Murderer.

That was the word Joker used to describe Campbell, but he never elaborated on this accusation, leaving him with anger that slowly smouldered beneath his skin, telling him to be careful as people around Orpheus seemed to have a wrapped perception of reality and failed to see the rusty wires beneath the author’s words and the fake kindness was not addressed to his person, but to the role he would be taking in his little game.

If his bumbling poet indeed killed people, he would like to hear his own version first. Eventually, that’s what he had decided with a firm nod.

“You have changed a lot,” he heard Joker’s voice.

“If you feel the need to note that, then I am going to assume, it’s in the negative way,” Mike gently bit back, his eyes narrowed as he felt the clown’s shoulder flinch beneath his feet, but Joker just sighed.

“N-Not necessarily, you are still you. It’s just different…”

“Well, that’s the natural result of leaving someone behind. People change with time and you shouldn’t have expected me to remain the same while you were out there somewhere who knows where. Despite what you might think, you are not the same, even if it’s harder to notice from your perspective,” he hummed. “Almost as if you forgot how to smile or crack a joke or two.”

“Sorry if I am not in a funny mood, when I fail to see anything entertaining in the situation” he said with a bitter expression.

“Believe me it’s quite comical once you are on the stage,” Mike laughed, but he failed to wear his usual carefree mask and his voice choked near the end of the sentence. “The enchanted prince waits and waits, but it seems the casting is never right, even if he himself believes in the actors who appear in his forest. The audience is quiet, anticipating something that will never happen until they all leave one by one. Tell me Joker, if you were in my shoes, what would you do?”

Joker’s footsteps gradually halted and the world around them waited for his answer in tense silence. A lady wearing a wide bonnet full of flowers gave him an angry look when she had to sidestep the shocked artist, but Joker did not pay her any mind, he did not even acknowledge her presence. His mind was far too preoccupied with the scene Mike had presented to him.

“I’d keep fighting,” he muttered quietly.

“Come on. I told you to stop lying,” the bird scolded him, pulling one of Joker’s red locks as if to prevent another wave of tears. “I’m not someone you have to amaze and I knew your answer the moment I posed the question.”

“Then you don’t know me well enough,” Joker answered with a bitter expression, his voice breaking as he found himself unable to continue. “I’d rather have a miserable life than no life at all. As long as I am alive, there is hope.”

“It’s easy to talk when you are human,” Mike noted, giving him a scornful look. A small spark of anger bubbled in his stomach at Joker’s insensitive comment. He truly did not understand what he had to go through day after day. How could he keep hoping when his heart had failed to break him free two times? When he was forced to face his own failure and the eerie silence that followed? “And it’s easy to have hope when you have already freed yourself.”

Joker did not respond immediately, his uneven lips formed a thin line as he visibly got lost in his own thoughts, frowning as he looked around as if he were to search for something that could serve as a tiny spark of miracle in his current predicament. When Orpheus summoned him to help Mike, he naively thought a correction of his first attempt would be enough and underestimated the heartbreak he had caused by trying to protect his partner.

Words were clearly not enough, and his feelings could not reach him anymore, that was a truth he had to accept. However, it did not mean that he would stop trying.

Eventually his gaze was led to the rooftops of the buildings around them, setting on the top of a building against the blue sky that rose above the simple brick chimneys and the weathervanes. Suddenly Mike felt fingers claps around his body as Joker reached up to his shoulder, taking him into his hand with gentleness as if he were to handle the world’s most fragile creature. 

“What are you doing? Joker? Let me go,” Mike raised his voice at the unexpected action. He tried to flap his wings, bite Joker but he couldn’t turn his neck in a way where his small beak could reach the man’s skin, and pecked at the black leather gloves he was wearing. 

Joker was seemingly careful to not tighten his fingers around him, but it was enough to prevent Mike from moving his wings and squirming himself free.

“I had an idea,” Joker explained, never lessening his grip around his body as they started walking again.

“If your idea is to live up to your promise about caging me, I am against it. I veto the possibility! I don’t want to be a jailbird!” Mike complained, trying to be loud to get attention from the passers-by, but nobody seemed to care about a bird being carried to the gallows. For them Joker probably looked like a good samaritan who helped a poor creature. Mike’s words? Probably just Joker talking to himself.

“I am not going to cage you so you might as well stop squirming,” Joker stopped, raising the bird to eye-level. How frown only deepened when he noticed that Mike was trying to reach out from his grasp to peck his nose. 

“And do you expect me to believe that?! It would be just another piece on your heaps of lies.” 

“I never lied to you…”

“Oh, look, another one. Lying about lies, this time,” Mike growled the feathers on his body poofing up. He hoped that the angrier he looked, the faster he could intimidate Joker into letting him go, however the more he cursed him, the less his words seemed to reach the man.

“Listen, Mike…” he whispered, taking a turn into a small alleyway. “I never lied to you. Things did not go as I planned, but if there is one thing… just one I know for sure, is that every promise I made to you was meant to be kept….” he took a deep breath, as his lips formed a thin line before finishing the sentence with a heavy sigh, “Even if in the end I was unable to follow up my words.”

“You just described a lie,” Mike noted, making sure each word that left his beak would be dipped in poison. That would eventually loosen the cold prison that held him hostage.

“This is why I intend to show you that I was— I am still serious about helping you. Hate me all you want, but if you keep up your right to die like this, I am keeping up my right to do everything I can in order to save you.”

“Stop this,” Mike felt something break within him. A bottle that has been put on the shelf, collecting his feelings for years. “Stop trying to do what you think is good for me, when you were clearly absent the times I needed you the most, when all I wanted was to have some company or someone to talk to me. How can you think… how do you have the spine to believe that you out of all people can save me?”

Joker did not answer immediately, but Mike could see that his words had their effect as the clown’s cheeks slowly took the colour of his hair, and the corners of his eyes turned even redder, threatening him with tears that would inevitably break free if he was not careful.

“Because I am the only one who knows this curse. Not Campbell, not Deross, but me.”

“Well, I am the one living with it,” Mike replied quietly.

The alleyway led them to a small square, where they were immediately greeted by the sweet scent of cakes mixing with the sea of scents of the spring flowers that bloomed in the stone planters that were lined up in front of the store, making a small flowery wall around the small tables that belonged to the place. Mike wanted to believe that their destination was nothing more than a quick stop before Joker finally takes him home as he promised.

However, in the light of the setting sun memories resurfaced, stabbing into his heart like many needles as he tried to turn his head while still being trapped by Joker’s hands. In front of him stood a building that has wronged him once, the building where unbreakable vows should be uttered with the hope of a bright, shared future. 

His stomach dropped when he realized what Joker was planning. The desperate attempt that would only hurt both of them, completely breaking the fragile bond the two still treasured between each other.

Mike wished he had the strength to break free, to fight for himself, but all he could do was to stare at the building in front of him. Its stained glass windows almost looked pitch black in the light of the setting sun, completely lacking the solemn atmosphere of such holy places.

But Joker did not seem to notice the signs, with heavy steps he walked forward, dragging Mike along.

Chapter Text

The heavy door of the church closed behind them, sending a gust of wind across the empty hall that separated the church’s nave from the outside world and served as the meeting point for families and the clergyman at the times of sermons, festivities and sermon. A dark little room that was supposed to be kept open in order to provide proper visibility to the believers before they headed through another set of doors to enter the heart of the building.

However, this time, there was no priest to greet and invite them inside with a welcoming smile and if anyone were to look inside they might have easily thought that the building was actually abandoned. Thus Mike’s last chance to get attention on himself was long gone. Nobody would come to his aid even if he screamed the name of all the saints that decorated the walls of the church.

Following the small source of light that made its way between the dark purple curtains Joker pushed another door forward with his shoulder to get inside the main hall while holding Mike in his hands. He let out a surprised quiet yelp when the door deemed to be lighter than he anticipated, suddenly moving forward as he leant against it almost making him fall from the momentum before he threw himself against the doorframe. 

Mike had to admit, there was something amusing and mildly charming in the way he managed to be a clown in the most unexpected moments, his natural clumsiness shining through the serious air he had forced around himself. Tumbling forward while keeping the bird safe between his fingers, pretending that he had everything under his control as everything in the world constantly tried to cross him.

“You can let me go before both of us face plant into the ground. It’s not like I can fly away from here. There are no open windows anywhere,” Mike noted when the red haired man finally found his balance again, his lips turning down as he considered loosening his hold around the feathery body.

“Just a bit more… Please. I’ll let go of you.” 

“I hope you are aware of the fact that you cannot hold onto me forever, expecting me to just endure being pulled and pushed around!” Mike huffed, squirming beneath the fingers trapping him, “I might be small, but I am not a toy to fight over and I don’t like being treated like a mere pet either. I still have some dignity left in me and I am not afraid to peck you if you won’t listen!”

Joker did not seem to mind his words. He was far too lost in his own world to consider the biting remark about his behaviour and the goal he had set for himself was far too close, making him blind to everything else.

But then again, this was Mike’s fault. He should have known that Joker will do anything within his power to help him, even if he repeatedly denied his offers to pose as his self-proclaimed saviour. In that moment, he was not acting for Mike’s sake, but for himself and the guilt that kept eating him away day after day, when he realised that the bird had fluttered away from him in his absence leaving behind nothing, but a few shimmering azure feathers as proof of his existence.

When Orpheus, like a thorough doctor pretending to want well for his patients, notified him about Mike’s escape from the forest, the fear of losing him slowly nestled itself in Joker’s heart, sneaking urgency into his actions that only grew into a monster when he realised that his fear was not baseless.

His heart was strained to its limit, and Mike knew it far too well that it was only a matter of minutes until it shatters.

As they walked, the rays of the setting sun painted the floor with the colours they stole from the saints that watched over the scene from their stained glass windows. Gentle blues mixed with green and orange, lighting the road to the small altar covered by a red velvet cover, naturally attracting his gaze.

In any other cases, Mike’s heart would’ve done a small somersault, anticipating what waited for him at the end of the road of light. Despite never really playing around with the idea himself, he always thought that if such possibility knocks on his door in the future, he would most likely take it with a smile. After all it’s more special when he is not the only one pushing forward a shared future.

For the longest time, he thought this moment would arrive with Joker by his side with both of them dressed up in their best garments as circus folks should. It would have been a small celebration as Joker did not have any relatives and Mike’s entire world was the circus. 

Now as he looked around, the list of guests took a noticeable change. Instead of artists, the first names that appeared in his mind were a colourful bunch. People who believed in their own right, eccentric ones, helpful ones, and people shrouded in mystery.

And there in the first row sat Joker, wearing a simple attire of a guest, quietly falling apart when nobody looked at him.

As it should be, he thought to himself, his gaze wandering back to the altar that grew closer by the moment. Joker was taking him to a wedding, yet Mike’s heart was enveloped by the veil of grief, constricting more and more with each step until he could no longer bear the sight of the velvety cover.

“It won’t work…” he said resignedly.

“We have to give it a try. At least once.”

“You know it does not work like that,” Mike argued, but he no longer wanted to break free. He couldn’t escape even if he wanted to, the church itself was a cage made of stone, a gorgeous one, but still a cage locked from all sides.

“But if it works, you will be human again. Isn’t this the very root of your problem?” He gently set the bird down on the marble floor, finally allowing Mike to spread his wings as the fingers no longer immobilised his body with their hold. Those grey eyes held so much love, so much adoration for him yet as he looked up at the man Mike felt something alien creep up to his heart, before coiling around it and freezing his entire body with its presence.

If Joker is successful with his plan, then what? How would he stand in front of Norton after everything he put him through? And most importantly, how would he trust his own feelings? The pesky warmth that filled him whenever he caught a small smile in the corner of the poet’s lips or the small, annoyed huffs that escaped him when Mike managed to outwit him with a rhyme. The soft yearning for something more whenever he felt the poet’s touch on his back, immediately followed by harsh reality biting into his heart.

Love. 

There was no other way to describe these feelings with one word and he refused to look for an alternative. He knew it all too well from winters spent together, from getting lost in each other’s embrace until time decided to slip past by him, the blueprint was the same, yet it couldn’t be different.

But Joker would not understand him. He was deaf to his pleas and blind to the changes that took place while he was not around.

Heaving a sigh, Mike watched as he kneeled down, his prosthetic leg refusing to follow his instructions as he forced it into an unnatural state. There was always something awkward about the clown, but now he looked even more miserable, almost as if he himself knew the outcome of his foolish plan.

“If we succeed, you can still go back to him… I won’t stop you,” Joker muttered under his breath, his cheeks growing red in shame when he realised how awkward his suggestion must have sounded to someone who had higher expectations on how his curse should be broken. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the small blue bird “Nevermind.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head.

“Mike… I Joker, take you to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till… death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow,.” his voice trembled as he spoke, but each time he was about to stop his determination shone through, and for a few seconds his wavering words gained some strength. How painful it must have been to recite the vow while knowing that even if Joker’s idea works the blue bird of happiness had already found his home with someone else. In the end, he would be nothing more than a pitiful tool for others.

Stop, please. Stop hurting yourself for my sake. I am not worth this much, Mike wanted to say, but he was unable to speak, his beak remained shut as Joker’s words echoed in the lonely church.

“I don’t have a ring, but would you…”

No. And you know it. You know my answer, yet you keep forcing this blind hope onto yourself… We failed once, and we will fail again…

“I do,” Mike choked, knowing well what will happen in the next moments and secretly dreading the moment when that small sliver of hope leaves Joker right in front of his eyes. But he couldn’t do anything about it. Just like in the past few days he was forced to stand powerless as fate pushed and pulled him along.

The small smile on Joker’s lips gradually faded as his shoulders slumped. Despite being aware of the nature of Mike’s curse, he couldn’t give up hope until the very last moment and the promise of regaining what he had lost when he decided to leave him behind. Sitting back on his leg all he could do was to stare at the small bird in front of him, slowly allowing despair to coil around his neck like an unbreakable chain.

The love that once kept them together was gone, only haunting them with its memory.

The love that could have saved Mike

“I am sorry…” was the only sentence Mike managed to say when he saw the tears gathering in the corner of Joker’s eyes.

“Silly clown, you should not apologise for something that is not your fault.” he chirped sadly, but he couldn't deny the relief that washed over him when he form remained the same. “How about sitting down in a proper chair instead of the floor. You will just catch a cold.”

“That’s what I deserve…”

“Huh.. Really? Not even beggars sit like this in a church,” Mike turned his head to the side, but despite the harshness of his words, his voice was soft. He wanted to provide some comfort, but not in a way that would lead to further misunderstandings, Joker had been broken into more than enough pieces already. “Besides you had your request granted, let this be mine.”

Joker looked at him, still speechless, but he eventually nodded as he stood up. At first hip prosthesis refused to listen to him, it kept crumpling beneath his weight until Joker pulled a few screws on its side, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to avoid eye contact with the bird. 

He technically fell onto the chair, immediately locking his gaze at the grey tiles. 

“I should have asked you to get a new prosthesis instead,” Mike followed him, his wings fluttering as he landed on the padded armrest at the end of the carved bench. “One day you will fall and break your bones.”

“After all of this? It would be salvation in disguise,” leaning back he tried to keep the tears from falling, but they ended up rolling down his face as he watched the ornate altar in front of him.

“For who?” Mike asked, his crest standing on the top of his head.

“Everyone,” he shrugged as a bitter laughter made its way to his lips. 

“Huh... Well I would be sad if anything bad were to happen to you,” Mike admitted with a huff. “You are nearly not as despicable as you make yourself out to be. So I really cannot see a reason to make you suffer.”

Joker was about to continue but his words failed him. Knowing that Mike was there with a counter argument to each of his self-deprecating thoughts he had to admit that he was cornered by a bird that was no bigger than a blackbird. 

“I should have come back to you. I shouldn’t have waited years because I was a coward to face consequences. Maybe you would be already free from the curse, maybe you would still love me instead of him,” he went on as a pitiful sob escaped him. “I wanted to come back to you, but I had no idea how to stand in front of you as a human. I felt ashamed that I was free, yet you were not when it should have been both of us… Not just me…”

“Just like this. By telling me what happened instead of leaving me behind! I cannot believe you avoided me because you thought I’d hate you for that. You were free, I was not and that was the way it was,” Mike spread his wings almost as if he attempted to shrug. “Of course, I would have been angry: I still AM. But that’s just how it is. I am angrier about being left in a forest with not even a single letter coming my way. For not having any company. For being all alone with no sign of you. I thought you had died… I even mourned you!”

“I am sorry… If I weren’t a coward…” he slumped down in his seat continuing his journey into the abyss. Deeper and deeper into the forest of his own thoughts as he went over his past mistakes making Mike’s stomach knot painfully as he was forced to listen and bear witness to Joker’s confession.

A pitiful sob broke free from the red haired man pitched forward turning his head away from the small bird. Once his idea failed him there was nothing left to keep him together and he could finally allow his heart to crumble. The sorrow he had bottled up for days finally broke free of its containment, echoing within the cold walls of the church without finding their place in the world to turn for comfort. 

For some reason looking at this broken man made Mike had never seen Joker as beautiful as he was in the light of a stained glass and its shattered colours.

He considered flying up to him or crawling beneath those weak fingers to provide some comfort, but he was far too afraid of giving false hopes to a man who just lost everything. Not when he had someone waiting for him in the small dark flat he had called his home.

In the end, he just closed his eyes, listening to the quiet tears as his past collapsed around him.

Chapter Text

They reached Norton’s home by the time the sun disappeared beneath the wall of hills in the distance. Only leaving a few stray rays of light in the bright pink skies, almost as if they wanted to serve as guidance the walls reflected the light, glowing orange as they tried to lead Mike back home through the small park, where the scent of flowers grew more intense as the air cooled around the earth. The same scent that surrounded him in the garden of the church, yet the two couldn’t even be any more different. The small park had always served as some sort of stepping stone for them at the beginning of each day and brought him the sense of arriving home, calming his nerves.

It also brought back memories prior to that evening…

“Murro came after me,” Mike spoke, eventually breaking the heavy silence that nested between them. Joker did not react so he continued, looking up at him. “People have been already talking about a hog in town and getting rid of him. If there is someone here who needs help, it’s him.”

“And will he accept my help the same way you did?” Joker asked quietly, his tired gaze meeting Mike’s. 

“He needs help more than I do and we both know that.”

“Ah, sure, yes,” Joker nodded, his voice carrying sarcasm as he opened the heavy gates leading to the staircase. He still kept Mike in his palm, but he no longer tried to cage him like before. There was no reason. 

Joker got what he wanted, even if he couldn’t get his desired result.

As they headed upward without speaking a word, Mike couldn’t help but notice how quiet the entire house around him had gotten. Even the elderly people, who’d usually spent their evening talking in the inner garden after the kids were driven into their home by their parents were nowhere to be found. Only a lone blackbird sung for company among the branches of the lilac tree, but its calls could never reach the outside the tall walls of the building. Its yearning for company clashed with its wish to stay still, so the song couldn’t find its reply.

The silence was unnatural and for a second Mike had to wonder if they took a wrong turn somewhere. But the tree was the same, and so were the flowers in the windows. The same pots of geraniums. The same stems of petunias slowly made their way down the wall with their pink and white stripes, halting their movements as they closed their blooms for the night. Everything was the same, yet it felt like time stood still in the house and everyone was watching the awkward, lone figure climb the stairs, his metal prosthetic occasionally hitting against the steps with a dull thud. 

Almost, as if his home had also noticed that this is not the right time for evening walks and joyful discussions and like a good host, it extended its sincere condolences in the form of solemn silence.

“We should be there soon,” Mike opened his beak, almost scaring himself how loud his voice sounded against the silence that surrounded them. “His home is just around the corner, the first door to the right.”

Joker nodded without sparing him a word. Not even a simple hum would left his lips to ease the tension in Mike’s body.

“Are you going to stay here for a while longer?” he found himself asking, regretting his words when he saw the pain flashing through those grey eyes.

“For a while, yes. I have nowhere else to be and my room was paid in advance for the month.”

“Good…” Mike nodded to himself, the regret he had felt finally quieting down in his chest, allowing him to take a deep breath. As selfish as it was, even if he chose his ends on his own, he wanted his loved ones to be around until the very last moment.

Standing on the other side of the door when it finally opened felt surreal, sending a weird alien feeling through Mike’s heart as he watched the pale face appear in front of him. Norton looked bad and the illness that was consuming him from the inside left its red marks on his cheeks, taking away the rest of his colours as payment.

The white shirt was buttoned unevenly, the first button sliding into the hole of the second one, pulling on Norton’s shoulder from the side. Thoughtlessness he would not allow himself under normal circumstances. At home, he allowed himself the vulnerability he was deprived on his normal days.

His eyes immediately settled on Mike, raising his eyebrows when he noticed the hand beneath his bird and the person connected to it.

“Joker, if I am not mistaken…” he opened his mouth, his throat whistling as he forced the words out, making Mike wish he would keep silent and rest. Just take him into his hands and close the door.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you have my bird?”

“I…” his voice strayed, but Mike could feel his muscles tense up beneath his feet. If the clown dared to reveal anything about their discussion he was sure to peck him for further misery. “I met with him on his way home. He seemed to have trouble with flying so I decided to help him.”

A white lie for all of their sake, but his voice was not convincing anyone. Mike could see the way Norton furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about something to veto the clown’s claims, before swallowing back the words that ventured to the tip of his tongue. He had no strength to argue, nor did he want to spend more time in Joker’s presence than it was required.

“I’ll take it from here then,” he held his hand out.

Mike could feel Joker’s palm tense beneath him, almost as if he was ready to embrace his fingers around him again and start running until his legs would take him. Eventually, with shaking hands he reached towards Norton, allowing Mike to make the coup de grace, by hopping over to the man’s palm and greeting him with a small, shameful nod.

“I– Mike, I am sorry. But please consider what I’ve told you. W-What you are currently doing is not good for anyone. Shouldn’t your goal be to spend as much time with people you love?” Joker stammered, his shoulders visibly shaking from the emotions he had tried to keep at bay as he was forced to part from someone who had meant the world to him. 

“Joker… we went over this once. I’ve made my decision.” He wanted to say more, but Joker already risked ruining his carefully crafted plan. Any more words could have brought more questions along once the door closes in front of the clown. Eventually he just ruffled his feathers and gave him a nod. “Thank you for taking me home, I appreciate the help more than you can probably imagine. Have a nice evening…”

Norton refused to wait for the answer, nor bid farewell to the clown. Once Mike reached the end of his sentence the door closed with a soft click and the key turned twice in the lock. If Joker wanted to say anything else, those words were forcefully halted by the poet, who clutched into the bird as if he was the greatest treasure he had ever found.

Once Norton stepped away from the door, he kept standing still in the small vestibule, staring at the entrance as if he was waiting for Joker to somehow open the closed door and try to convince him once again about his rightful ownership over Mike. He would probably bring up their shared past, carefully omitting details on how he actually did everything he could, making up desperate lies on the spot. And Norton would listen, eagerly as he prepared a counterattack for the claims. 

However, as they stood there the scene they both waited never came, instead they heard the rythmless sound of someone turning around and taking the stairs. Footsteps became quieter until they were once again enveloped by the comfort of their own silence, the ice in the room only melting when Norton finally let out a sigh of relief and lessened his hold around the bird’s small body.

“Someone seems happy that he is gone,” Mike couldn’t help but comment, surprising himself how weak his own voice sounded.

“You got in trouble again…”

“Now, now, the way you say it implies that I often get into trouble. I just merely had a talk with him,” he lifted a wing in his defence. The look that was thrown in his way told more than a thousand words could and Norton lacked the usual composure to hide the hurt his words had caused him.

“It’s late and I am bleddy sick for this today,” Norton eventually mumbled to himself, running his free hand through his sleep tousled hair as he heaved a tired sigh. 

* * *

It’s been a while since Mike was allowed in the bathroom, the small little space where the only source of natural light was the narrow window that he had dropped in through so many weeks ago. Its dark walls shrinking the space and Norton’s penniless lifestyle, making it more and more depressing to look at. The white ceramic soap holder with its blue flowers and the single yellow coloured soap that sat in its palm were the only things beside Mike’s teal feathers and the raggedy green towel that brought some colour into the room.

At first, he did not even notice these small details as he was far too focused on the person who tried to cheat him out of a deal with the belief that he would just let him go due to the sheer difference in size and mobility. 

However, this newfound feeling just made his heart constrict even more when he looked back at Norton over his shoulders. He needed to focus his attention somewhere else before his gaze stuck on the poet for too long and he could no longer escape.

Just a glance to be sure, he kept telling himself, quietly regretting that when they had first met, he did not take his time to memorize what he was seeing. Now all he could do was to steal short peeks, letting out small huff each time he failed to remember a detail, a scar or a slight discoloration. 

Because no matter how much Norton tried to hide them from others, they were part of him that should have been noted and remembered. Part of the imperfect, yet gorgeous painting.

Mike had no way to know at the time that he would fall head over heels for the poet so there is that!

“You know you can just act normal, right? I am not angry at you that much,” he heard Norton speak behind him, before water hit his back.

“I know, I know, I am just taking your privacy into consideration. Not sure if you have noticed but the bathwater does not really contain any bubbles,” he squawked, violently shaking his body when another splash of water landed on his head.

“Last time you hardly cared about me almost dying,” the poet noted. “It’s not like you to start caring about bubbles and privacy weeks later. You usually get cockier as time passes.”

“...”

“Listen Mike, there is already one clown in town, so you better stop this,” Norton let out a small sigh, leaning forward. Suddenly two wet hands grabbed Mike from under and lifted his body until he faced the poet and he was forced to watch the frown deepen in those tired features. A weak protest was all he could afford as he was put down again.

Did Norton have any idea about the storm that gathered in his fragile chest as he was forced to face him? 

Probably not. In his eyes, Mike was nothing more than a loud companion and his form hardly made it possible to translate his feelings properly. 

Instead he just huffed, shaking the water off his feathers and focusing his attention on the face he had seen almost every hour of the day. His attention stopped there and did not wander further.

Leaning back into the hot water until his shoulders were submerged, Norton looked at him again, his annoyment seemingly melting with the heat, but his curiosity giving way to something Mike wanted to avoid talking about. 

“If you don’t want to tell me why you were with the clown, at least tell me who was the boar? Another sweetheart of yours that wants my head on a silver platter?” Norton broke their silence, earning a few confused blinks from Mike before laughter echoed in the small bathroom.

“I can assure you, I have only one past lover and you already had the pleasure of meeting him several times,” he tried to catch his breath, flapping his wings when he almost lost balance on the copper edge. “The boar we have met was Murro, dearest cousin of mine and a kind co-worker from the past. I think he believed that I was in trouble when he saw me with a ruffian alone at night, hanging for my dear life.”

“So you get to be rescued, while I am the one being held as your hostage. Great,” Norton muttered, sinking lower in the water until it reached up to his collarbone. “Anyone else I need to know about? A wandering witch aunt? A flock of magpies? Perhaps swans who used to be trapeze artists?” 

Mike just shook his head and allowed silence to take the space between them. For some reason words did not come to him as easily and it was unknown just how much of his past would be revealed to Norton if he kept talking or how much would even reach his ears due to the curse doing its work.

“Good. Three circus artists are more than enough trouble to deal with,” he sighed and a heavy cough rocked his entire body.

“Oh come on! You talk as if we were that bad.”

“Mike, your cousin just chased me around town, your ex is out to dump my body in the river for interacting with you and you keep chewing my ears off over a failed curse-breaking attempt. Furthermore, now your ex knows where I live, so my chances of survival went down the drain,” he listed, holding his hands above water as he touched his fingers with his index finger, counting the atrocities he had to survive ever since he had met with the blue bird. 

“Now, Joker is not like that,” Mike tried to brush the fears aside, waving a wing to solidify his white lie, but his words only earned a disbelieving look.

“Oh no, let me be the judge of that. You are clearly biased because of your past history.”

The crest on Mike’s head jumped up at the words. He couldn’t believe her ears when he had heard it, but there it was. Small and subtle. A bubble that finally burst when Norton had a chance to voice his opinions and had his defences lowered by fever.

“A-ha! I see how it is. Someone is a tad bit jealous!” he chuckled, his eyes glistening with false mischief. At this point, the best he could do was to deter the conversation.

“Keep telling that to yourself,” Norton countered almost immediately, flicking a small amount of water towards the bird, hitting Mike’s face. 

“I might just do that,” Mike nodded, “But just so you know, I wouldn’t leave you no matter what.”

“Even if you were given the chance to become human again?”

A tricky question. Maybe months ago Mike would have reconsidered his answer, think about the logical outcomes and how his desire to be human could be realized the fastest way. A marriage opportunity would do from anyone as long as success was guaranteed.

However, things have changed and with the acceptance of his doomed fate he came to realize that nobody else would do. If his curse was broken through the act of a wedding, then he might as well wish for it to be someone he would actually want to spend his life with.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt like Norton was the only possible candidate. 

“Even if I was given the chance. Somehow it just wouldn’t be the same.”

* * *

When Mike opened his eyes, the bedroom was still embraced in the pitch-black veil of the night. The moon was nowhere to be found, so only the dim light of the street lamps coming from below were able to provide some sort of guidance by drawing the outlines of the furnitures around him. If he listened carefully, he could hear the wind caressing the fresh leaves on the trees, making them shiver as it playfully rushed past them, but the world outside was still, waiting for the first signs of dawn to appear over the hills.

He closed his eyes, trying to lure himself back into a dreamless sleep. The attempt failed and after a few minutes he found himself staring at the sleeping shadow next to him as the thoughts he had kept to himself slowly untangled themselves from his grasp now that he was no longer at risk of sharing far too many of them.

Despite resting in the evening, Norton’s body was rocked by a fit of cough, making Mike perk up almost immediately. He expected the poet to wake up, look at him with confusion, but the man just turned to his side, never rousing from his sleep. As he should. It was bad enough that he had caught a cold that refused to leave because he never learned how to rest. Mike would absolutely chew on his ear if he did not sleep on top of everything he already had to deal with.

Because at the end of the day that was the only thing Mike could do. Use words, peck on his cheek and hope for the best. He posed no threat for the poet and he had no other tools at his wings to convince him about his thoughts. It was a sign of affection and care the only way he could show it in his current form.

He needed rest, he needed a better place to live, somewhere where mold does not make its home in the corner of the rooms. For Mike, who was always on the road, sleeping under such poor conditions was almost impossible to imagine. Sure, he had his fair share of leaks, and experienced water flooding a tent overnight and stepping in a wet puddle as his first action in the morning, but that’s how he lives. Norton deserved better than the conditions of a traveling circus.

Heaving a sigh, he hopped from the small bed that was bought for him. His small feet barely made a dent on the pillow’s fabric as he walked closer and closer to Norton’s sleeping figure, looking for a place next to him to lure himself back to sleep.

If there was only one wish in the world he could grant, it would be something that takes the weight off his poet’s shoulder. 

If only he was the read bluebird of happiness…

Chapter Text

The weather was warm and the soft spring breeze that swept through town followed them into the small inner garden too, playing around with the metallic sign hanging above the stone arch by pushing it to and fro. Almost as if it was impatiently urging them, or rather, only Norton, to hasten his steps. Yet Norton couldn’t feel the same anticipation for the upcoming discussion. 

Fever still scorched his body from the inside, pulling a layer of fig over his thoughts, making his movements clumsy and sluggish. If there was a difference in height on the road he was sure to stumble through it, but the sidewalk where he did not risk getting hit by a carriage was not safe for him either. If he was not kicking into stairs, crates and pot of flowers, he was missing his steps when he kept walking against the curb, his legs sliding back to the setted road.

He just simply couldn’t focus.

Most of his thoughts wandered to the discomfort of the fabric that continuously sent pain through his entire body making him painfully aware that he was wearing clothes as he was burning up from the inside. Each movement made his skin tingle with pain sending cold shiver down his spine. But alas attending the office required to follow some sort of basic etiquette so no matter how terribly he felt he had to attend.

If he could, he would have stayed at home desperate to find a home remedy for his ailment. Maybe make tea out of an onion. However, he was far too afraid about the diagnosis a proper doctor would set up. Certainly, it would include a week or two rest as prescription, a luxury Norton couldn’t afford in his current condition. Skipping work simply meant he would starve to death.

Sighing to himself, eventually he ended up loosening his tie with the hope that the trapped cough that lurked beneath his throat could be quelled.

“I think you should tell her,” Mike noted from his shoulder.

“She wouldn’t understand.”

“Eh? Someone who gives you a book so you can get better at writing would certainly have the level of empathy needed to understand your stone brained thought process. Believe me when I say she likes you.”

“In your dreams maybe. Otherwise, I am nothing more than a bad investment,” he shook his head halfheartedly awaiting the counter argument. 

“Norton… you can be very blind sometimes if not all the time,” Was all his bird had said. Instead of the usual playfulness he could only sense disappointment.

As the door opened Patricia had greeted them from her usual seat. The papers scattered around her desk seemed to contain numbers and if Norton squinted he could make out the names of ingredients that were commonly used in printing. Several chemicals beside the common black ink were listed, and if he tried he could spot various fabrics and materials used for the covers. 

Keigan’s publishing company was among the smallest, especially because the town itself was so far from the capital and the main markets, but even a quick glance at their purchases could tell that the woman knew the market better than most of her peers.

Patricia’s pen glided across the pages of a hardcover book that was meant to keep the data from the papers organized by categories and dates. One by one, she copied the numbers, occasionally stopping to recheck her previous lines, her eyes never leaving the pages. Sweeping her dark hair above her shoulder, she slowly looked up at Norton as if she did not catch him staring.

“You are here early today,” she noted as her pen stopped on the paper. She seemed to have something else to say, but in the end she just closed her mouth with a frown. “Would you like to sit down and drink something before you rush into Keigan’s office?”

“Huh? No, I am fine. I just came to drop these down and then I’ll be on my way,” he raised a hand staggering back a bit.

“It was just an idea,” she shrugged, her gaze wandering to the blue bird on Norton’s shoulder. If he did not know any better, he might have thought that the two conspired in some way, because soon Mike was on her desk, enjoying pets on his head by Patricia’s index finger.

Something gripped his chest, grinding it between its claws as he watched the scene that unfolded in front of him. He was about to ask Mike to return to his shoulder, when he heard a familiar voice gradually coming closer to them.

“My! I was starting to think you went back to Scotland,” Freddy broke into their quiet conversation, forcefully inserting himself between the two. His words were harmless dipped in fake kindness. “How have you been, Campbell?”

Norton flinched when he felt a hand suddenly touch his shoulder, sending pain through his skin, but he managed to grit his teeth, looking at Freddy while doing his best to hide the intent to murder him on the spot.

“Been better,” he mumbled as he tried to step away from the man. Out of all the days, he did not feel like dealing with whatever his coworker wanted to throw at his head. He was not in the mood for small talk, and Riley seemed to be very much aware of this fact.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Freddy nodded with a thin smile. He visibly had something to say, but his gaze fell on the blue bird that sat on Patricia’s desk, his crest against his neck. “Oh, how adorable. Is this yours?”

“Aye…”

“Its feathers are quite unique. Reminds me of a songbird that dressed up as a kingfisher, yet some of its characteristics remind me of a pyewipe. You know that small little blue bird. Amazing that you manage to take care of it, despite, well, everything. May I ask what kind of breed it is?”

“Blue,” Norton answered curtly, “Since when have you been so good at ornithology?” 

“You have to be into academics if you write, Campbell. I thought someone like you would know at least this.” he smirked. “Birds are the most ancient forms of symbolism in literature. Freedom, death, bad and good omens. Even Orpheus was grieved by nightingales wasn’t he? But of course I don’t really expect you to know such things. You can only paint properly if you know the colors you are ought to use–”

“Or he can just use his imagination. George McDonald is a notable example,” Patricia added a frown appearing near her arched brows. Just like Norton, she too, had reached the limit of what she was willing to listen to coming from Freddy’s mouth. 

Intertwining her fingers in front of her jaw, she kept moving her arm, left and right, pushing and pulling as a way to stop herself from making any more comments.

“Ah, yes Ms. Dorval. Imagination too, can be a mighty sword in the hands of a worthy master,” as if he had noticed his mask slipping, he quickly added, “And of course we’ve yet to see Mr. Campbell’s work to determine where he belongs in his craft.”

“I’ll show you craft, just wait…”

“I’ve been waiting since you stepped into this house, Campbell so you better hurry. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you wanted to join us this Friday at the Red Lion for a drink with us.”

“Why would I join you?” Norton raised a brow, heaving a deep breath with the hope that he can keep his composure at least until Freddy is gone.

“Think of it as a thought of reconciliation. After all, it’s not good to harbor negative feelings within the workplace and nothing can solve miscommunications like a few of this town’s finest pints. So, how about it? Maybe I can introduce you to a few new connections in literature as a form of apology.”

“I’ll see if I’ll feel like it,” Norton gave a evasive answer, but he couldn’t lie to himself, the idea of being introduced to people who can help him climb the ladder did pique his interest. Ever since he fibbed and lied his way to have his name published under articles he was waiting for an opportunity like this, after all connections were the key to every door in this world.

“You won’t regret joining us just make sure not to drink as much as last time when you went home and we did not hear from you for days,” he huffed at the memory as if it was nothing, just a fun anecdote. “I would not recommend bringing your pet. Alcohol is deadly to birds, you see.”

Freddy’s hand reached out to pet the peculiar bird’s head just like Patricia did before they were rudely interrupted. It had no cage, so the assumption that the creature was tame was not a far-fetched idea.

However, in the next moment a loud cry of pain followed by a string of curses shook the entire office as the bird let out a loud otherworldly screech.

* * *

No matter how many times he had stood on the edge of the richly woven carpet, he could never truly get used to the feeling of having his work be judged right in front of him. The way Keigan’s eyes scanned the pages, her irises moving slightly whenever she started a new line while the skin above her arched brows furrowed whenever she had stumbled into something strange. It was almost as if the worth of his whole being was judged in the form of short poems and the woman never missed a moment to make the moment of revising into something akin to a ritual. The pressure pushed Norton to only bring what he deemed to be worthy of publishing, but always kept him on the edge with the knowledge that even that would not appease the ruler of the publishing house. 

However, this time something changed. As he stood there, he shivered whenever the spring breeze brushed against his skin, his attention kept slipping out of his grasp and no matter how firmly he tried to grab it, and somehow it always escaped temporarily pulling him into darkness. Whatever his boss had said was muted by the existence of an open window that was supposed to air the room. Each breeze eased the fever that burned his body from the inside, but it tortured him with a new palette of discomfort. 

How much he wanted to take refuge beneath layers of blankets and forget about his worries for a while, listening to Mike talking about whatever comes into that small bird brain of his as he drifts into slumber thinking about a circus he never had a chance to visit, but wouldn’t say no if such chances ever presented themselves…

However, before he could succumb himself to the image he was suddenly yanked back to reality by a firm voice.

“Mr. Campbell, I insist you to sit down at last,” she ordered him as she looked up from the poems Norton handed over to her.

“I would rather stand,” he protested weakly, despite his body crying in exhaustion. That was his only chance to withstand the meeting without falling asleep. On top of that, every movement made pain shoot through his skin and he couldn’t fathom the torture sitting would cause in his current state. Maybe he would not be able to stand up anymore. 

“Is there a speck of dust I did not notice while cleaning my office?” she raised a brow, leaning forward in her seat almost as if she tried to get a better look at the dark leather armchair, shaking her head. “Not, that’s not possible. Ms. Dorval would have surely noted it when she visited just an hour ago…”

“I’d just rather stand for now,” Norton tried to save himself, but at this statement a cloudy expression appeared on the woman’s face. Pity, rue and disappointment were just a few of the emotions Norton managed to make out.

“Sit down Mr. Campbell or else I’ll make you,” she ordered, in a voice Norton couldn’t argue with even if he wanted to, so eventually, like a child, he decided to sit, doing his best to ignore the pain that crawled over his skin. “First of all, let me state this, you, Norton Campbell, are not a carthorse working in the mines. Not anymore. And I am not going to base your value around your productivity. I expect you to work, but I do not believe in the lofty image of the starving and suffering artist. That’s nothing more than a fabrication in order to make literature look more powerful while pushing young creators down a spiral they can never get back from.”

“I cannot afford to take a break, if that’s what you are implying,” said Norton, feeling more and more tired as his body sink into the chair.

“No, it is exactly what I am implying. With all due respect, have you read the poems you have submitted this week? Atrocious is still far from the proper word to describe their quality. The rhythm is almost nonexistent, they read more like small rambling essays of six or so words rather than poems.”

“So I am not going to be published in the anthology…” he mumbled to himself, sinking deeper.

“These works of yours definitely won’t be in the anthology,” Keigan corrected him, “You are far better than that, Campbell and I still intend to keep your name among the list of contributors. However, these pages here are nothing but notes of wandering thoughts. Seeds that had boiling water poured over them before they could even sprout into something. Allow yourself to nurture the themes you intend to work with.”

He had to admit, Keigan had a way of talking that angered him to a point his thoughts started spiraling into the abyss. Were there any compliments? Perhaps. Maybe some. But at the end of the day the woman’s opinion of him rang clear in her voice and tone.

Why did he even care? This was nothing but a game Orpheus played with him and a petty way to try and revenge himself for his life being used against his will, being reduced to nothing but fiction.

He shouldn't have cared.

Poetry and writing, words polished into fine jewels were always unreachable for him.

Yet as he listened to his hard work being likened to worthless rubbish, he felt something strained his heart, pulling it apart as the comments he had gotten refused to leave him alone.

“I know I am a disgrace. You don't need to find new ways to remind me of this.”

Keigan lowered her gaze, looking at him like she had just gotten the worst possible answer one could have given to her. Taking off her glasses she massaged the bridge of her nose as her lips turned down.

“If I had to choose one, it wouldn’t be you. Campbell, you are good with your words when you put your soul into it. Hence I would like to ask you to take a short break. Focus on yourself first, let us work out a solution.”

He was being fired. His legs won’t touch the ground now that the rat playing the role of a noble appeared on the surface there was no way to hide his weakness.

However, no matter how hard he tried to fight for himself his body had failed him. It refused to respond to his silent request as darkness grew longer and longer in his world each time he blinked. Soon Keigan’s words disappeared in the distance and he felt as if the light switch had been turned off in his mind.

* * * 

The hall was quiet this time around. Almost as if after Freddy’s proposition and cry of panic nobody really wanted to go near Patricia’s desk or even the entrance of the office. Not even Edgar ventured out of his studio safe for occasionally peeking out from behind the corner before he headed back. Mike could feel the man’s urge to steal him away for another afternoon, but today the air was far too tense for the artist’s liking.

Mike’s name was silence, while Patricia did not want to risk revealing the true nature of the bird in the silence then the drop of a pin could be heard. Especially now, that his presence was known by almost everyone around them thanks to the bite Mike delivered against Freddy.

An hour passed like this, Patricia continuing her work while Mike using his time to put the fountain pens and pencils scattered across the table back into their holder in front of the woman. He wished to talk to her, to share the details of the meeting with Joker and tell her whatever came into his mind, but he repeatedly stopped himself fearing that he would be caged if his secret is out.

“If I were Norton, I wouldn’t accept that invitation,” she muttered, seemingly to herself as she stopped for a second in her work. She did not look at Mike, but he could feel that he was the recipient of the sentence. 

He silently nodded in agreement.

Freddy was like a shadow tailing Norton, waiting for the opportunity once he was finally on the ground so he could deliver a few well-aimed kicks towards the poet’s heart. Mike did not need to know more to see that whatever the man had in mind wouldn’t end well for Norton.

“The first time they asked him to join them, it did not go well either. So I am not sure why this time would be any different,” Patricia whispered, her voice losing its strength because it could have traveled further than her desk, “One of Freddy’s close friends kept asking Norton to change his money into smaller banknotes, but he always only have as much money as he needed for that day. When Norton lost his cool and admitted not having any money on him anymore, they laughed. They knew he was poor, so they made it their goal to make fun of him and force him to admit this.”

Mike nodded again however this time he felt disgust bubble in the pit of his stomach. The bite Freddy had gotten was nothing compared to what he would have done if he knew about his past actions.

“They repeatedly made fun of Norton being responsible with money and I don’t think that was their only deed.”

Because there was the day when somehow Norton ended up in the forest, Mike continued in his thoughts, closing his eyes with a sigh. Freddy probably knew if Norton did something that would warrant an immediate firing, Norton would have a hard time finding someone who would employ an ex-miner. 

His dislike knew no limits and he would have done anything to get rid of someone who annoyed him by his sheer existence. 

“But why?” he asked quietly. 

“Some people just cannot stand those who are different and he is an extreme case of this,” Patricia whispered back, looking around as if she was worried someone might hear her. “He is a posh brit who was financed by his mommy and daddy without ever having to experience what it feels to earn something in your own power. He is a thirty eight years old brat who–.”

However, before she had a chance to continue somewhere in the office a door opened with a painful creak making both of them jump a little and freezing the remaining part of the sentence on Patricia’s lips almost immediately. Long meetings never carried anything good with themselves and the bird could feel worry slowly creep up to his heart, forcing him to hold his breath in anticipation of the worst possible scenario.

Heavy steps echoed in the small hallway that led to Keigan’s office, but in the end it was not a green coat that appeared in front of them, but the dull purple attire of Keigan. The person Norton feared yet respected the most, the person who apparently hated him so much she was holding him back from success on purpose. Or so Campbell believed.

What Mike saw in reality was a troubled woman, shaking her head in disbelief as she heaved a deep sigh, her shoulders rising and falling dramatically. When she turned to Patricia, her tone lacked the usual discipline, it was almost as if she called out for a friend, not an employee.

“Patricia dear, would you be kind and call a carriage here?”

“Did something happen…?” she asked, her voice low, yet he was visible fighting to keep it neutral.

“Hmm, yes we can say that I suppose. But it’s nothing more than the common case of stubbornness and learned behavior. As if I ever fire someone over not feeling well,” she shook her head. 

“Did something happen with Campbell? Should I ask for help?” Patricia voiced Mike’s thoughts, but completely lacking the panic that took residence on the bird’s heart. 

After all, if Keigan came to them instead of Norton something must have happened to him. Something that prevented Norton from leaving…

“It depends. Mr. Campbell chose my office to fall asleep out of all places. In any other cases, this would be a great inconvenience as it is impossible to talk privately while someone is sleeping soundly in the room, bearing the possibility to wake up and listen in on the conversations.” She stopped for a second, before continuing in a kinder tone. “Fortunately, today I am not expecting any more visitors so he can stay where he is. It’s been a while since I saw the workflow of Mr. Valden.”

“I am sure he would be delighted,” Patricia allowed a small smile.

“Oh, I am absolutely sure of that!” 

“Ms. Keogh, wouldn’t it be better if you called the carriage?”

A soft laughter echoed in the room, almost as if Patricia said the joke of the century.

“Because dear Patricia, there is a big difference between our perceptions in Campbell’s eyes. If I were to try to help him, he would deny it, fight me with the last ounce of his remaining strength, insisting that he needs no help nor money from me. For a man who lived in poverty, being forcefully indebted since birth, being seen weak and fragile in the eyes of his employer is a mistake they won’t afford. As I’ve said, learned behavior he grew up with,” she explained walking closer to the desk. The pleasant scent of her perfume soon reached Mike. It was not too much, neither too little. A polite amount that made her presence feel more comforting. “It would be best if you could call a doctor to see him, but I am pretty sure he would not allow that even for you.”

“Oh, I am sure I can persuade him in some way or another. I have my own methods. Until then, would it be okay to bring his pet bird to him? He must be stressed without his owner around.”

Being referred to as a pet struck weird for Mike, but at that moment he couldn’t really complain about it. He just felt grateful that Patricia thought of him.

Keigan’s dark eyes fell on Mike as she studied him behind her glasses.

“Oh yes, Mike, the blue little muse, if I am not mistaken. I see no reason to keep him away from Campbell especially after the loud success he had with Mr. Riley.” Seeing Patricia’s confused frown and Mike’s ruffled feathers she added with a knowing smile. “Nothing travels faster than loud curses uttered in the common room. Now, then may I take this little bird?”

She reached for Mike with her manicured hands, the golden bracelet hitting against the papers he was sitting on, but unlike last time, Mike did not fight instead he quickly fluttered on her palm, fighting an urge to open his beak and allow the thoughts that had been suffocating him to escape into the room.

Eventually he managed to get a hold of himself, almost making his heart rupture from the feelings he had piled up in his small body of a bird.

Chapter Text

Tap tap tap. 

The tip of the pen hit against the paper, leaving faint marks of ink on the crumpled paper running along the surface whenever a word decided to show itself before falling back into its repetitive dance. 

Eventually, a drop of ink slid down, leaving a small splotch beneath the carefully dotted point, drawing a string of curses from its wielder as he tried to put a raggy cloth over it to prevent the paper from soaking through. Above the shining dark liquid the title of the unwritten poem stood almost mockingly, showing off the marks of four revisions. One line across when the word was good, but did not fit, and a dark scribble when the poet did not even want to see the words anymore.

Next to the author of this mess, a mug filled with faint coloured tea gradually got colder. The steam that rose proudly from its surface quieted into faint whispers he forgot to drink is. Not like he ever intended to. The taste was just far too vile and he had nothing that would be enough to sweeten it.

A mix of chamomile, mint, sage and many other small green leaves all more bitter than the other, but rumoured to chase away the cold that relentlessly took bites from his health. A small gift from Patricia who made sure to check up on him at least every second day, since he refused to visit the doctor.

“Just what part of taking a rest missed your ears?” Mike’s voice brought him back to reality just when he thought he had thought that he had avoided catastrophe on the pages of his cheap notebook.

“I am drinking the mopwater you are mocking as tea while not going anywhere, thank you for your concern.”

“Except, that does not equal proper rest! You have to take care of yourself before it gets worse. Norton!” The crest on his head stood up as he grabbed the pen between his beaks and pulled it from the man’s hold. It slipped so easily, he wondered if Norton was even holding it in the first place. However, in the end his beak couldn’t hold it for too long and the pen rolled on the wooden desk leaving dark dots of ink in its wake.

Norton quickly reached for it, doing his best to get rid of the ink with the piece of dirty cloth before the wood had a chance to drink it.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he coughed, feeling as if his lungs would tore themselves out of his chest.

“I am not. Are you? Keigan asked you to rest, Patricia asked you to rest, I am literally sitting here begging you to rest. Just for a little while, take at least one of us seriously.”

Norton started writing again, the pen was back in his hand, but the words stood still. They refused to form sentences no matter how hard he tried to summon them. Instead, they acted like daggers, hurting the only person who still tolerated his presence. 

Frowning, he was about to say sorry when he stopped himself. 

“Resting is not as easy as you believe it to be…” his voice softened as he leaned back in his creaking chair as he finally set down his pen. Nothing would appear on paper anyway.

“Sure, it is not easy, but it is as hard as you make it for yourself,” Mike argued, stepping closer with his clawed feet, eventually sitting on the page in front of Norton making sure that his body is covering the paper. Maybe if Norton did not see his pitiful attempts, he would finally listen to him. “When I said that I grew up in a circus. Now that was not a lie. It is one of the facts that does not tie a knot on my tongue as I speak about it and the only thing I can use to convince you.”

“You don’t understand.” 

“Try me.”

However, Norton had no intention of listening to him even if Mike told him the most heart wrenching story about the importance of sleeping off colds and how often they were prone to invite other illnesses if they were left untreated.

What he saw in front of himself was a goal he was unable to reach no matter how many words he had put next to each other on paper. He would rest once he is done with the task Keigan had given to him.

“Listen. Chances like this don’t come as often and I’d be a fool to not take it.”

“You are already a fool for trying to work in this condition,” Mike scoffed, pecking the hands as they tried to sweep him to the side. “Campbell!”

The sudden call of his surname made Norton stop, drawing a frown across his dark brows.

“This is not a circus.” Norton answered at last.

“Yet you act like a clown,” the bird mumbled, hopping onto the man’s hand and holding onto his index finger with his clawed feet.

How much Mike wished it was a circus! In that case he could have given Norton appropriate advice and probably had some sort of power over his actions instead of going against a windmill whose sole goal was to break in half. 

If he was a human, he could grab him by the scruff of his shirt and drag the pitiful poet to his bed, ignoring the complaints and the fit he would throw when he finally met his equal. He wouldn’t show mercy no matter how much the poet fought and he would have the means to keep him still, even call for a doctor without drawing too much attention on himself.

However, being human had its price in his current condition.

It would ruin everything he had worked for and the vow he had silently made when he realized the hopelessness of his own situation.

Throwing all away over fighting a stubborn mule was not worth it, he decided in the end.

Another fit of coughs rocked Norton’s body, forcefully dragging Mike out of his thoughts back into the warm spring afternoon reminding him of the task of ushering the man to any other point in his home where he can rest. 

Heaving a sigh as he shook his head, he decided to search for a different approach before he ended up biting Norton’s hand. Hopping onto the pen the man was holding, standing upright on the vertical surface and looking at him with his blue eyes. 

“And what if I asked you very nicely? Would you still no? Would you be able to say no to such a cute little blue bird such as myself?” Mike asked, but his weight did not seem to prevent Norton from writing. Letters still appeared beneath him on the paper, dragging his tail feathers behind themselves.

“My answer would be no,” he answered in a hoarse voice, doing his best to keep the upcoming fit at bay. 

“And if I asked you to make fresh tea for yourself?”

“It’s still early for that.”

“You are in the middle of writing, no time is too early for tea!” 

“I still have tea in front of me.”

Mike tried and tried again, his fingers clasping around the pen. Beneath him the cursive letters no longer looked like the poet’s usual handwriting. The elegant slanting flow, and quick curves and hoops were replaced with messy lines, their beginning and end often bringing more ink to the paper than it could physically withstand, leaving patches here and there and colouring the side of Norton’s hand as he switched into a new row. 

Leaning down, the small bird read the words aloud.

“Wild, sad fires are starting in me…”* he squinted trying to read the following sentence, but the words refused to form a whole, and even those lone words occasionally missed a letter or two, pretty much signalling the moment when Norton’s thought process changed. “Where did you want to go with this sentence? Are you sure it’s not just your fever?”

Norton tried to shake him off, but he grabbed the pen as if it was a branch he had found in a storm. He refused to let go of it.

Instead Mike read forward, looking for some kind of logical sentence structure in the pile of nonsense, Norton had piled up word upon word. 

I slap at it, try breaking its wings. Shoo, bird of joyful dawning sky! 

Frustration seeped through the lines. The helpless struggle Norton forced himself into eventually manifested in lines that successfully grabbed into his heart.

Habits were hard to break. Especially if the person in question was none other than Norton Campbell.

If clawing at his skin won’t work, he might need a honeyed string to lead him away from the desk.

“Listen, I know you won’t believe me because you are far too stubborn to believe anyone that is not you, but you know it well I am not here to hinder you. I am not Orpheus. Nor Riley. I am Mike Morton. If you don’t want to lie down in your bed, that’s fine. Then don’t do it. Just rest your head for an hour. Bring a notebook with you. You don’t need to stop. Just let your body rest while working.”

“Never thought I would be hearing such preaching from you,” Norton scoffed, lifting the pen so Mike was hanging upside down. His gaze was glassy, and tears of frustration were drawn to the corners by the fever that vehemently tried to destroy the poet.

However, behind the deprecating look, Mike noticed a small hint of adoration and a faint smile.

“You are insufferable… Will you ever get bored of squawking in my ear?”

“Me? Never,” Mike puffed his chest proudly, revealing his soft white feathers beneath his regular colours. “So will you stop being a prick and finally rest?”

“In your dreams,” Norton huffed.

“You kind of got it wrong, it is you who is supposed to be dreaming,” Mike chirped back cheekily hanging to and to on the pen. He could’ve climbed up to sit properly, but there was something about Norton’s expression that said the man was secretly enjoying the impossible situation. 

To and fro, to and fro. 

Eventually, Norton just heaved a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and set down the pen with the bird still attached to it. He mumbled a curse beneath his breath, but Mike couldn’t quite catch the words, the action that followed it was far too interesting anyway. 

The chair creaked as he stood up, gathering his notebook and the simple black fountain pen he always carried with him. He did his best to avoid eye-contact with the bird who kept running across the table with his clawed feet tapping rapidly on the surface just to get a better look at his reddened face. It was almost as if he would’ve admitted his defeat with the simple action of being seen. 

He dragged himself through the room, tiredness reflecting in his movement before he collapsed over the ragged sofa, resting his head on one armrest while throwing his legs over the other side of the furniture. 

“Finally a responsible thought!” Mike cheered, throwing his wings in the air. He was only begging him to do this since the moment he had sat down, but probably if he brought it up, Norton would have been stubborn enough to sit back into his chair so he kept his words to himself, treading carefully. 

His poems were sloppy and half-baked but not because he was a bad poet, but because he allowed the weight of Keigan’s words to sit heavily on his heart as the kind-hearted opinions slowly shed their skin to turn into biting criticism. Even Orpheus, the person who used Norton’s life to his own gain and delivered a few kicks when he was on the ground, did not pose as much of a threat as failing a simple task of writing.

For someone, who had no other choices left, the possibility of losing that small sliver of hope was probably a paralyzing feeling. One that repeatedly followed him around only to wait until it could dig its talons deep into the man’s heart.

Shaking his head at Norton’s predicament, Mike eventually spread his wings and followed him to the sofa, settling on the man’s stomach before making his way through his folded arms to his chest. That was the usual place he belonged and he wouldn’t leave it even if he couldn’t sit on the poet’s shoulder. 

The notebook was resting on the poet’s stomach, but once his head hit the armrest, the determination to churn out another terrible poem lessened and his entire body heaved a sigh, preventing him from moving. 

“So you were not tired,” Mike teased him watching as Norton just closed his eyes and let out a small, annoyed huff that turned into a hoarse coughing fit. 

“It’s just a temporary pause,” he croaked back.

That’s what Norton claimed it to be. ‘Temporary.’ But it did not take a doctor to see that his body was tearing at its own limits, trying to keep up with his own image of the future before succumbing to exhaustion and dragging Norton’s mind to a dreamless slumber leaving Mike alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Mike couldn’t recall the last time he had been truly, impossibly angry. Burdened by the annoying feeling that burned up his heart like a wildfire in summer, leaving behind nothing but scorching thoughts that warmed his heart in all the bad ways possible while they destroyed the wall he used to filter words that got into the world. 

But now there he was, simmering in his own rage as they walked through the town, taking turns around corners and heading down streets he was not familiar with. Norton refused to tell where they were going, but it did not take a detective to see that he ended up accepting the peace offer extended towards him by Riley. Despite his hatred towards the man, his yearning to be part of a community deemed to be stronger; pulling him forward while even his own body did his best to prevent his foolish decision. 

Even if his lungs hurt, even if the coughs and fever were getting worse, Norton was a stubborn mule steadily walking down the path of his own destruction whether Mike liked it or not. 

Gazing at the profile of the poet, Mike opened his beak as if he were to say something, but eventually he just took a deep breath and set his gaze ahead, making sure to memorize some of the landmarks. He did not know where Norton was taking him and he had been burned enough times in the past few weeks by his lack of knowledge to know better than to walk around only watching the road ahead. The small theatre, where a group of well-dressed people were waiting for the building to open its gates, the clothes shop that claimed to sell shoes made from Italian leather among other imported goods and the restaurant that was just close enough to attract people from the theatre.

Everything around them screamed that this was the part of the town frequented by the wealthier class. People who had money to afford the name that belonged to the craftsman and their guild. 

“We do not belong here,” Mike noted quietly as Norton stopped at an intersection, reading the street names and counting down the house numbers.

“We really do not,” he nodded, then turned left.

“Which means we should go home and finally focus on the task ahead so you can be an acclaimed poet,” the bird finished with feigned playfulness, but his frustration seeped through his words making his tone jump involuntarily. Norton did not seem to notice. Just like he remained blind to the feelings that kept the bird around him, he was completely blind to the worries of others when it was addressed towards him. 

“I have to be there. At least once just to show that you did not need to be born with a silver spoon sticking from your mouth just to be able to behave like someone who has money.” he explained, his voice strained as he overexerted himself and the redness of fever colouring his pale face. 

“Oh you are right! What a worthy goal to die over!” Mike spat forcefully pulling on the dark strands of hair, until Norton let out an annoyed hiss. “Do you think Freddy cares? Because last time I checked he was still very keen on getting you fired simply for being Cornish.” 

“Kyj dheves, as if you knew anything about how the world works. Weren’t you raised in a circus? How could you ever fathom how things work out in the real world?” The words left Norton’s mouth without any filter followed by immediate regret when Mike remained silent for minutes, tasting his words and 

“Real world…” Mike repeated his words, his voice dangerously low. “Maybe I know more about what the real world is like than a miner who did nothing but walk to and from between his home and the mineshafts. Maybe, just maybe, the reason why I am worried is because I’ve seen what jealousy can do to men. But of course what can I know? I must have travelled all across the island with my eyes closed! I’ve certainly did not experience anything the like! I am just a dumb bird…”

“That’s not what I said,” Norton tried to argue, but his words no longer held any power over the bird. 

The anger Mike had felt scorched his heart, leaving behind nothing but hurt while his feelings were temporarily buried under the ash. Not even the most heartfelt apology would be able to bring them back to the surface. He decided that staying angry would be the best choice of action and refused to back down from it.

If Norton won’t think of himself. If he truly wants to break his own body without ever listening to common sense, then be it!

The least he can do is to make him feel awful for that, but he won’t take part in his death waltz.

“So, are you still keen on going to that meetup?” He asked eventually, his blue eyes expecting a no. However when Norton opened his mouth it felt like someone had poured a bucket of water over his head. 

“Yes.”

“Is this your final answer? Have you made up your mind?” he asked again, his voice low.

“Couldn’t be more final,” the poet muttered, but he immediately halted in his steps when he felt Mike spread his wings and glided to a nearby flowerpot that was created by cutting a barrel in half. Sitting among the sea of pink geraniums Mike looked back at him, his crest flattening against his body while the rest of his feathers were ruffled up in irritation.

“Then have fun alone. I am not going to sit around like an obedient mascot in your bag while you completely ruin yourself. There are few limits to my patience but this is one of them.”

“So where do you intend to go? Who would listen to you all day if not me?”

“Orpheus? Joker? There are few people on this list, but I might look for someone else. Mrs. Lester would probably let me stay the night,” he listed his shoulders as if he were to shrug, before he set off, pulling from the remaining strength he had left to disappear above the roofs.

It was better if he did not allow Norton to reply, or else he might have been convinced to stay. Whatever words were thrown his way were thankfully lost in the wind. 

* * *

The pub to the Red Lion was nothing special. A small brick building on the corner of a small street where those who visited the town were doomed to walk past several times until they couldn’t say no to their prices and the interior that proudly mixed styles and furniture from various areas of the establishment. The chairs and tables were recent additions, but the pictures on the wall and the rest of the decorations proudly advertised their start at the dawn of the regency era and how even the Marquis of Evans gifted them an oil painting of the building upon making the pub his favourite place to stay.

Nowadays, the ground floor operated as a bar and a small restaurant, while the upper floor was reserved for the family and staff as some sort of office and resting corner. Some said it used to be a brothel just a hundred years ago and this tradition was still kept alive, although on a smaller scale due to how fast the concurrence grew in the neighbourhood. Eventually, the focus fell on offering the best drinks in the region, aiming to lure in customers with the promise of strong alcohol.

But Norton couldn’t really know as he could barely afford a few pints let alone anything more costly. Those kinds of services were always above his wage, while nowadays he couldn’t really care about them. Just like the business model of the pub, his attention had unavoidably shifted as his imagination made up versions upon versions of a person he had never met in human form.

A person who would’ve made the whole evening bearable. 

As he stood there in the middle of the haze of alcohol, suffocated by the scent of meat and burnt oil, his thoughts were still somewhere on the street, looking after the bird who had left him in a haste without considering how the meeting with the damned clown would affect him. 

He was not bothered. Not the least. But there was a small voice in his head that quietly whispered that he shouldn’t enter through the door and he should be out there looking for Mike so he could listen to his squawking about his health problems.

Things were just not the same without him and he had soon found himself missing the splash of blue from his vision.

However, the bird was gone for the day so in the end, he just shook his head and decided to follow through with his plan. If Mike wanted to coo with Joker then be it, he had more important matters to attend to.

As he walked between the tables where people did their best to out-shout the other once they believed their voice was lost in the cacophony of discussions Norton felt like his strength was running out. The loud sounds hammered at his brain as if each syllable was a mace ready to smite him, and the thick smell of oil and beer made his stomach do an uncomfortable dance as the clothes suffocated his skin, sending a burning sensation through his entire body.

It is just temporary weakness, he told himself as he stopped next to a wooden pillar, holding onto its edge like his life depended on it. It will get better once he can finally sit down, he was sure of it. Even as the smoke from the cigars that enveloped the pub in a translucent grey haze burned his lungs and made it impossible to breathe.

Tightening his necktie until it coiled uncomfortably around his neck like a snake that attempted to kill him, he gathered his strength and focused his attention on finding familiar faces among the crowd. Mainly focusing on Freddy’s features as he was sure that he would be attending a get together that he called together.

Soon his eyes had found the man sitting at a longer table with four others. One of them was certainly Valden, although he was wearing a more leisure attire than what Norton was used to, and without the trademark beret hat he was almost unnoticeable. 

Next to him, there was a blond man who struck Norton with a sense of familiarity at the same time he couldn’t really connect a name to him as his meetings were brief, barely lasting more than several seconds at a time. He seemed to be frustrated despite the pint of beer being half empty in front of him and he would occasionally glance towards the illustrator whenever he needed him to speak in his stead.

The rest of the group however were completely unfamiliar to him. A tall lanky man dressed like an old-school gentleman and a bearded man who boasted about something as his gestures were grand, led around by the bravery provided through alcohol.

Holding his breath, Norton decided to finally let go of his safe spot and decided to take a step forward in order to join a group he never quite intended to belong to. 

“Who is it if it’s not Campbell?” Freddy’s voice suddenly sounded so clear in the pub as if they were the only ones present. He did not stand up to greet him that luxury belonged to those he actually liked. Laughing, he added, “I was about to start thinking that you would get cold feet after being invited to spend a little money on fun. Come sit with us! The first round is on me! We got to celebrate that the mole is finally out of the hole! Aren’t I right?”

His indelicate banter was ignored by purpose, by everyone sitting around him, while Norton had no strength left to argue. Arguing with Freddy was a losing battle, anyway. He was a lawyer who did not stop until he could prove his right through any means possible and tonight Norton was not in the mood to have anyone dig in his wallet and past. 

In the end he just sat next to Edgar, nodding with a frown.

“What now? You all lost your sense of humour so suddenly,” he petulantly lifted his pint.

“Because if your sole goal with this night out was to make fun of Campbell, then we might as well go home. That bone had been thoroughly chewed already,” Edgar explained, his face turning into a sour expression. “Talk about something else for a change.”

Edgar Valden, despite working as an illustrator at Keigan’s office, was a born noble. Someone who should’ve looked down on others as his birth right, yet there he was calling out Freddy on something nobody ever did, or rather nobody ever dared. Probably it was the whisky in front of him that made his tongue loosen up and let his unfiltered thoughts into the wilderness, but in that moment Norton felt unthinkably grateful for his slip up.

“Of course it wasn't!” Freddy argued, his eyes never leaving Norton. “This is just a simple get together to catch up and get to know each other. When was the last time I’ve seen Jack? Months ago, before he was on his way to Bristol for a gallery opening. And you, Valden, you can also benefit from not sniffing paint and ink all day in your studio room. It’s starting to get to your head.”

Edgar just rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the wooden seat. The blond man sitting next to him seemed like he wanted to say something, but eventually he just set his gaze on the table, focusing his attention on the bubbles that broke free from the bottom of his drink. 

The tension never seemed to completely disappear, not when Norton finally had his first round of drink, nor after the artist called Jack ordered scones in order to lessen the effects of alcohol on the group. Even if their tongue loosened and words flew easier the more beer they consumed he couldn’t really lower his defences. Not when Freddy was looking at him like a hawk that was waiting for the best moment to strike.

Next to him the bearded man called Kreacher Pierson, seemed to grab his attention when he started talking about his latest investments and his intention to use part of it in horse bets, testing his luck just like rich people. Norton couldn’t decipher what he did for a living, but the way the man boasted about the quickly gained money that he intends to get rid of just as hastily and exchange it to he immediately arrived to the conclusion that it was probably better left as a mystery.

“Oi, Campbell, where is the bird you keep carrying around?” Edgar looked at him, his voice cutting through the people arguing around them. Freddy turned his head towards Norton then back to Edgar.

“Campbell keeping a pet, huh? That’s new.”

“I have no clue, probably around here somewhere,” he admitted. At the moment he was both happy and disappointed that Mike had refused to accompany him, while a small part of his heart desperately urged him to go and look for his bird instead. The questions aimed at him were becoming more and more curious, almost as if they were trying to find a hold on him, since his nationality did not provide enough ammunition to aim at him at work. “Birds are not good with cigarette smoke and they can suffocate easily, so I don’t bring him indoors whenever there is a risk.”

However Edgar did not seem to respond in an ill manner, he just closed his eyes and nodded.

“Understandable. I was mainly asking because recently someone had been letting out non-native birds around the area. Just today I saw a flock of cormorants and a few unknown raptors. Artistically speaking, they provided a rather unique sight, almost mesmerizing enough that I wish to have been able to capture their flight, however your bird might be in danger.”

“Now that you mention, I’ve seen something similar to. I was on my way to the orphanage and s-suddenly a sea of birds covered the sky, almost like a giant rain cloud. I am not saying that I t-t-t-t-hought the day of reckoning had come, but it was hard not t-to look for cover immediately” the bearded man leaned forward, stuttering a bit as he tried to pronounce the t-s in the beginning of his words. “Then again, just i-imagine the money you could make from catching them. Some of them seemed quite rare.”

“The huntsmen are probably on those birds already so if you want to make profit out of them you ought to act quickly,” Freddy argued. “They are already in town to shoot that darned boar that keeps terrorizing the streets. What if a dew invasive species to them? They just need to aim a bit higher and shoot.” Without looking at Norton, he added with a feigned worry. “Let’s hope they don’t mistake Norton’s stray pet for one of the fugitive birds.”

“Maybe I should go,” he was about to stand up, his legs shaking when he finally understood the fate that had awaited Mike and his uncle. He felt his stomach drop at the idea of anything happening to the man even if he was nothing but a small bird in his current form. 

His bird. 

The bird who was currently with someone who would keep him safe even if it cost him his life. If he were to look for him now, he would just miss his chance to build the connections he yearned for.

“Stay with us for a bit more. You’ve just arrived. The hunters are not working when there is poor visibility out there anyway. Your bird is safe,” the man named Jack noted, his voice like a calm lake in the middle of a stormy forest; drawing him closer until he couldn’t name a reason to leave.

Besides, this day was for him. A day for him to build connections and get to know others. He would have been a fool to waste it when Mike is probably chattering happily with that clown.

Lowering back to his seat, he grabbed the beer in front of him, pulling it closer.

“You are right. It probably won't hurt to stay a bit longer.” he answered, doing his best not to let the cough in the pit of his lungs escape.

Eventually the worry and anger he had felt over Mike’s disappearance was drowned in the bitter sparkling sea of alcohol.

Chapter Text

Time always seems to gallop faster when alcohol appears in the picture. It refuses to slow down or even stop for anyone’s sake. In fact, time only rushes forward with more speed if anyone dares to perceive it through the haze of intoxication and tries to catch it for a mere second just to be allowed to rest.

That’s how Norton had felt around the third pint that refused to disappear from his glass no matter how much he drank. Was he even drinking? Maybe he just wanted to. Maybe the glass was repeatedly refilled at an inhuman speed whenever he closed his eyes. He couldn’t really tell which statement was right anymore.

“Maybe we should order something to eat. The pub ought to have a menu somewhere,” he croaked looking up with the hope that more people would agree with his idea. However, nobody seemed to notice his suggestion, the discussion and laughter went on without him as his eyes looked for anything that could contain a list of foods available with no luck.

While he was busy, time evaded his sight and galloped even faster.

That tall gentleman, Jack, who seldom joined into the conversation unless Edgar decided to bring up his artworks, was suddenly gone. His seat was empty with not even an empty glass holding the memory of his visit meaning the man probably left some time ago and the waiters already struck, collecting his drinkware. Frowning to himself Norton sat back, the world spinning with him for a second as he did his best to focus his attention back to the table.

Edgar and Victor were also missing with no sign of returning to their seats as their glasses and belongings were nowhere to be seen. Closing his eyes he vaguely remembered Edgar asking him to move so they could leave from his seat on the bench, but he did not remember him saying goodbyes. But then again nobody in their right mind would spend more time than it was necessary in Freddy’s company so he couldn’t really blame them if they left for real without notifying the group. He should have also followed their example before the table became uncomfortably empty.

Eventually he was the only one who stayed behind, being forced to listen to a rant about Keigan and how that old hag is refusing to read through the masterpieces Freddy keeps bringing to her. The man’s eyes occasionally wandered to Norton, almost as if he was waiting for some sort of affirmation from Norton, believing that the two had something to bond over in the form of their mutual dislike.

There was one thing about drinking with Freddy, but he to be on the same opinion was almost insulting. Holding back a fit of cough, he leant on the table with his arm.

“I think she means well,” he said when the man was about to loudly proclaim his dislike for their boss. It felt like he was only parroting Mike’s words, but before he could correct himself, his own thoughts quickly cut in, “There is a reason why the publisher is still afloat, ya know.”

“Yeah. For someone like you a ship that barely stays afloat is as well as a brand new as long as it bears your weight,” Freddy huffed, sitting back to reach for his drink. “But let me tell you, it would only take a thorough investigation and that place would go under in minutes. You cannot even comprehend how many rules are being broken there!”

“Then go on, investigate, Riley. But biting the hand of your employer is not very sensible for a man of your calibre. Do you—Have you--”

Norton wanted to continue, but the words refused to manifest themselves. Each time he had felt he finally grasped the thought he wanted to convey about past employers, he couldn’t find their meaning and they disappeared like the bubbles as they reached the surface of his drink.

His lack of coherent response did not seem to bother the others as Freddy’s supposed friend picked up the conversation, spreading his arms in a grand gesture as he leaned back.

“Maybe a new owner would bring better royalties. The name already sells well and they are printing annuals and bi-monthly collections. As I keep saying, it wouldn’t be hard to find a new investor in case Mrs. Keogh had to take her permanent leave from her position.” Freddy rambled on, completely ignoring Norton’s concerns, “Unfortunately to us, her name is what sells, so unless her brother were to take back business, we are stuck with that hag” Freddy leant forward, resting his chin in his hand. However, despite his words being about Keigan, his attention was seemingly set on Norton, his expression gradually changing as Norton felt sinking deeper and deeper into the murky swamp made of his own thoughts. 

Without noticing, he ended up in a scene similar to one living in the back of his mind. The same smile, the same headache and mushed thoughts, but the ending of that story led him to a forest.

Deep down, something told Norton that was nothing but a warning. Like a dumb prey, he managed to fall into the same trap twice, however as the hunter was the same he won’t be escaping this one as easily.

Trying to keep his calm, he grit his teeth and decided it was best to find a way out of his situation.

“Yeah, anyway… It’s getting late, so I think I should be going,” he tried to speak but he was not sure how many of his words reached the outside world. Somehow, his control over his own actions gradually disappeared into nothing, the more the haze of alcohol settled over his mind.

He stood up to leave, but his knees almost gave out beneath his weight, his muscles shaking uncontrollably as he tried to find a grip against the edge of the wooden table.

And Freddy laughed, he laughed as if he had seen a new-born foal trying to find his footing in the world after seeing light for the first time. Even the fake compassion was gone from his voice as his laughter bit into Norton’s core, forcing him to look the man’s way while the entire room spun with him.

“Well, we cannot really let you go like this,” he heard Freddy, but despite standing in front of him, his voice echoed as if he was sitting on the bottom of a well. However, even when the fever took over his body reminding him of being sick, he knew it well that the man’s company only meant trouble so with his last strength he straightened his back, forcing himself to focus on the full-teeth smile. 

“No, you can. Trust me. I know the way home,” he argued as his body quietly broke beneath him.

“In this state? Never. Let me call a carriage for you at least. We will settle the bill at work when you get better.”

“I don’t need your money, Riley! If I need a carriage I can get one for myself, in fact, I can pay for everyone’s drinks. I am not as helpless as you think,” he fought back, his voice broke as he pridefully straightened his back as if that would make the man in front of him change his opinion.

However, before he had a chance to continue Freddy’s hand was on his back. He had no idea how or when. Almost as if the man had miraculously disappeared from his previous spot just to rush to his help. Pierson did the same and soon he was trapped between two wolves who refused to lessen their bite on his neck no matter how much he tried to protest.

“Now come on, you look sick and I know the hag would get my head if her favourite lapdog did not reach home in one piece,” he laughed, but for a moment Norton felt his body freeze, despite the fever that scorched through his flesh and made him want to shed his own skin until he was free from the pain.

He flinched and hissed when a hand pushed the fabric of his shirt against his sensitive skin, and almost groaned in pain when someone slid his green coat across his shoulder. Existence itself was suffering and he hated how easily he was led around with no ability to speak his opinion as his words failed him miserably when he needed them the most. Letters getting tangled in each other each time he tried to speak.

Something else was clawing at his mind and the thought that it was not connected to the alcohol or to his cold made his heart freeze in terror.

Another blink and in the next moment he felt a cool spring breeze against his damp skin and darkness embraced his vision. Looking back, he couldn’t see signs of the pub anymore, however he was sure that something was brewing in the darkness as Freddy did not lead him to the road where carriages were stationed, but to a dark alleyway where even the three of them could barely fit let alone a horse.

“Isn’t the road the other way around?” he asked weakly, feeling thankful that Mike couldn’t hear the way his voice had failed him and how much he struggled even with the easiest words.

“Oh, indeed, however before we head home, there is a small bit of business we have to attend. One that cannot be postponed.”

“I am pretty sure it can wait.”

“I am afraid, it cannot.”

He did not notice, but the atmosphere around them changed almost as if the veil that covered Freddy’s true intentions had been finally discarded, revealing the scheme he had been hiding up until now. 

Turning around, Norton tried to look for an escape route, however his eyes met with the bearded man wearing a hat. He was lean, but in his current state he wouldn’t have gotten too far as the fever and dizziness slowly took over, making his thoughts and movements sluggish.

In a desperate attempt, he tried to push through, but felt a strong grip on his shoulder as fingers dug into his skin even through his clothes.

“Let me go,” he protested, but the man called Kreacher yanked him back by force, pushing him back.

“L-learn your place, wretched miner, Mr. Riley is n-not d-done yet!” he stuttered, his face gradually melting together in Norton’s vision as his voice became a distant echo.

Then he suddenly felt it. The air being pushed out of his tired lungs as something landed right against his ribs forcing him to stammer back a few steps. The belch of escaping air sent fear through his entire body as he was unable to regain his composure.

Punching someone was an incredibly simple action. Spectacular, effective and the only required tool was the body of the opponent. 

Focusing his gaze into the darkness in front of him, he tried to make out Freddy’s feature but failed.

“You are truly like a dirty cockroach, Campbell.” he heard the man, his shoes clicking against the setted pavement as he walked closer. “Your kind should keep himself to what he knows best, digging the earth for pretty little stones. Yet here you are parading around in your tattered clothes like some kind of court jester of her majesty, believing that you can be anything but a dependent pet under her care? How ridiculous can you get for a few pounds?”

Norton was about to give Freddy a piece of his mind, but his own body betrayed him as it forced up a painful cough making his lungs flare up as each pore on his body was hell-bent on destroying the poet. 

“You will rue the day when you crawled back from the forest. I thought I had led you far away so you would never make it out, but of course, cockroaches always survive and make sure to cause trouble. That should have been enough to learn your lesson, but of course your kind never learns.”

The forest? His attention was caught on that small sentence and the realization that he had not simply wandered out there in a broken stupor made his stomach drop.

He mustered enough strength to turn around and start running despite his legs refusing to work properly, almost as if they had forgot how to move properly, the ground kept slipping away from him as they stepped in the wrong direction. Just when he’d finally thought that he had his actions under control something forcefully grabbed into his collar pulling him back towards Freddy. Looking back he saw the bearded man, the previous smile melting from his face into pure disgust.

“Not so fast. Mr. Riley still has something to say,” he smirked, cruelty dripping from his words.

“Exactly, Campbell. I still have a lot to say so why would you try to rush away so hastily? Where is your fight when you are allowed to fight? That raw brutality of a Scottish miner?” Freddy raised his arms, shaking his head. “Or was it something only reserved for dear old Orpheus? Do you think everyone is as blind as the hag and we wouldn’t see you sneaking around his mansion after you took his books for reviewing? How much did he pay you?”

Even as his thoughts kept slipping past his fingers and everything around him grew blurry, Norton’s eyes widened in panic as Freddy’s words slowly reached his brain. If the poor fool knew what had been truly going on with that good for nothing author!

“How–” the words died on his lips. 

“Didn’t you learn that answering question with another question is rude?”

Suddenly, he felt a kick against his leg and his entire body crumbled like a tower of cards, forcing him against the cold ground as every pore in his body cried for mercy. He tried to get up, but just when he managed to push himself away from the ground, another kick landed him back on the ground.

He tried to get up, but it seemed he had reached his limit. His limbs refused to move, only flailing around simply as his trembling fingers clutched against the edges of the setted road.

Freddy stood above him, his hands on his hips as he looked down on Norton as if he was a dead animal on the side of the road. In a foolish whim Norton believed that the man wanted to help him once he had his share, but Freddy just stood there, peered at him with a curious gaze. 

“Heh. Seems you were not kidding. This thing hits fast,” he mused, nudging Norton’s body with the top of his shoe. The sensation felt distant, almost as if his stomach was miles away from his head.

“Never d-d-d-oubt my sources.”

“I do doubt your sources. You are a slippery liar.” he cawed, but his words made no sense to Norton. “And you, Campbell, you better not be coming back to work. Take this as a second warning” Norton felt a dull pain in his abdomen, making his body instinctively curl up at the sensation of pain. “I can already promise if you survive this, the third time won’t be a charm for you and I will make sure of that.”

He wanted to argue. To scream to do anything, but his body refused to listen almost as if the connection between his thoughts and his muscles were severed by the snap, pushing him into a state of immobility. 

Mike had told him. Mike had warned him several times, tearing into his clothes and pecking his skin with his small beak to earn his attention, but Norton refused to heed his words. He marched forward like the fool he was, dismissing every sign every poisonous comment dipped in honey.

Norton was a fool for chasing him away and an even bigger fool for pushing him back to his old relation so thoughtlessly. He needed that garrulous bird more than ever.

If Mike was there, things would be different.

Then again if he was there, then Norton wouldn’t lie helpless on the ground with no way of getting out of his situation, staring at the blurred image of Freddy Riley’s shoes, before he felt it against his ribs, knocking the last remaining ounce of air out of his tired lungs, bringing darkness to his world.

Chapter Text

The fighting spirit Mike had in him when he threw his anger against Norton’s head disappeared into thin air the moment the man entered the pub. Mike’s words no longer reached him and all he managed to do was to anger and annoy him further, making Norton even more stubborn and hard-headed than he was.

As the door closed behind the green coat the bird knew he had lost another battle. And a very important one on top of that. 

Yet no matter how annoyed he felt, no matter how tempting it sounded to do something irreversible by picking a side in the argument, he did not fly to Joker as he‘d previously promised. Even when he was blinded by annoyance, he was far too aware that a sudden visit would disturb the fragile balance they had acquired after the visit to the church. They might’ve sorted themselves out, he did not feel like reminding Joker of their failure by seeking his company just to fly back to Norton when he finally calmed down. 

Instead, he decided to tire himself out on purpose, allowing the anger to finally extinguish itself in his heart when he found something else to think about. Hopping from rooftop to rooftop, gliding and fluttering while keeping an eye out for birds that did not belong to town that had cornered him before.

He did not know what he would do about them in the case they truly appeared, but looking out for the invisible enemy helped him pass time in a seemingly meaningful way. Once he was sure nobody would start chasing him, he finally allowed his thoughts to wander along with his body, thinking back on the curious sightings such as the blue swallows and the crows that nearly tore him apart. 

Their goal and origin was never quite cleared, but his mind occasionally returned to Orpheus and the room full of miserable creatures connecting the two as if they had some sort of peculiar alliance. Perhaps they had, however as his visit to Orpheus was part of the many secrets he hid from Norton, he did not have the option to present this theory without revealing his kind hearted schemes.

Regardless, the room still haunted him and when he closed his eyes, he could vividly imagine the cages lining up from wall to wall, towering upon each other as some were hanged from the ceiling, all sharing the same characteristics of way too small for the birds they kept hostage. Their shape barely allowed them to stretch their wings or move around.

But he also remembered the one exception. One cage that was far more grandiose than anything in the room. All for one small nightingale who somehow earned herself plenty of flying space and a place to land as if it worth more than any exotic animal captured by the author.

Put in front of the window with the intention to give her light and air, in the cruel twist of fate, she was reminded of her own lonely imprisonment instead. 

If even something as plain as a nightingale was captured, it was not hard to imagine that eventually Mike would have ended up in one of the cages if he was not careful enough. Part of a collection that was nothing but sick entertainment for the master of the Deross house.

Shaking his head as he ruffled his blue feathers, he did his best to chase away the shadow of Orpheus looming over him and focused his attention back at the problem at hand. 

Something worried him about Freddy and his sudden cordiality and his worry only grew when he remembered what Patricia had told him when she looked into the first case of Norton’s sudden appearance in his forest. Someone who did not miss a chance to verbally kick his own co-worker and call him names would definitely not include him on the guest list for a private event. That went against his very nature.

He had nothing to gain from inviting Norton, Mike thought to himself. He could make himself look good in front of others, but Freddy didn’t really need to prove anything to his friends and he doubted that Keigan was invited to the get-together.

Musing on the possible reasoning behind the man’s actions, he soon found his way back to the entrance where he remained perched on a lamppost for the rest of the evening, occasionally walking around its rim, before sitting back again, his small feet clutching the top of the metal hat.

Something was off and it annoyed him that he couldn’t tell what exactly.

* * *

Hours felt like an eternity and he felt himself nod off several times, only to forcefully shake his feathers to drag himself back from slumber by taking a deep breath from the cold evening air. Drowsily blinking a few times, he set his gaze on the door.

Any moment now. Any moment and Norton would appear, defeated and wishing to go home.

That was the small lie he kept telling himself, even if part of him knew that the poet would rather die than to admit defeat in the face of his greatest rival. Alas, Norton was far too proud to allow himself to be simply defeated, this he would not leave before Freddy does. 

So he waited, doing his best to fight off slumber.

When the church bell rang seven times, he was just impatient. He repeatedly kept glancing at the door, hoping that the next person who would come out might be Norton and they could finally go home. However, it seemed people only went back inside and refused to leave as if the pub swallowed them up.

When the bell rang eight times, Mike decided to glide down to the window, sneaking around like a thief, keeping himself hidden as he kept peeking inside, feeling frustrated whenever the people sitting at the table leaned into his view and he had to step to the side. 

His heart somewhat calmed when he noticed the familiar scarred face in the back of the room, wearing an eternal frown. However no matter how much he stared, the uneasy feeling remained, quietly taking bites from his heart as he noticed the small signs nobody else did. The poet might have worn a mask to make himself more sociable, but once again, he did a terrible job at hiding his real feelings.

He was uncomfortable by the tablemates as he repeatedly kept glancing away, while fighting his own battle against his own body. The fever did not go away on order and neither did the shivers and coughs that made his shoulder shook as he turned away from the table, trying to keep it under control before turning back to the guests with an indifferent expression.

Mike could only hope that pushing himself to his limit was worth something, even if he never stopped doubting Norton’s statement. However, no matter how he looked at it, this was not the place to build his career, but to ruin the connections he had made and serve Freddy with new tools he can use as weapons when push comes to shove in front of Keigan.

Anyone who worked in a business where people would step over each other just for a second of limelight understood this and it was strange that Norton refused to see the true intentions behind the innocent invitation. He was not stupid and yet there he was, pretending to enjoy a company he deeply despised, believing that he would get more liked if they just went along and tried to fit in.

All he did was making a fool  himself.

Shaking his head, Mike gave one last glance at the poet, before returning to his perch, waiting quietly until another hour passed. 

From the top of the lamppost, he saw Edgar and another man leave, chatting quietly between each other, completely lost in their own world in the haze of alcohol. The artist looked far livelier than he did whenever Mike saw him in the office, he was smiling and gesturing as if he was to explain some great idea he just had. The blonde man next to him just nodded awkwardly while wearing a reserved smile on his lips, occasionally pulling him to the side before Edgar could’ve met face first with a lamppost or a bench.

Edgar just laughed it off, jokingly pushing back against the taller man, then purposefully held onto the next lamppost that came his way, walking around it before his drinking partner dragged him away. Mike wished he would have stayed longer as there was something comical yet calming about a man of his calibre acting silly and enjoying himself without a care in the world as if everyone turned away for a second.

Norton would never do this, he reminded himself when they finally disappeared around a corner leaving him without any entertainment. 

* * *

The church bells no longer signalled the passing of time and the only way to keep track of it was by observing the door of the pub.

Eventually, the evening arrived to a point where there were no new visitors entering the place and instead more and more people gathered in front of it, continuing the conversations they had started over a pint, before they finally decided to say their goodbyes, reluctantly parting ways as they headed home. 

The pub became quieter and he continued waiting, relentlessly walking around the circular top of the lamp as his eyes were glued to the entrance, ready to break into flight if he saw a familiar figure.

As people kept leaving, their sudden loudness ringing through the empty streets, he expected Norton to appear, perhaps in the company of Freddy Riley. However, the poet refused to show himself, probably taking his sweet time in the pub, drinking himself beneath the table, forgetting that while patience was a virtue, Mike was rather short on it. 

He shouldn’t have been worrying, yet when the lights went out and the last person also stepped outside, stretching his back before closing the door with a key, he stood there in disbelief, taking a swift glide the moment the supposed owner and his employees were out of his sight.

Pushing his head against the window, he searched the seat where he last saw Norton, feeling dizzy when the seat was empty. He couldn’t see any shuffling that would reveal that he had fallen asleep, but then again the staff would have kicked him out if that was the case. That possibility was out the window.

Taking a deep breath as he felt his remaining calmness crumble away, he started walking to and fro on the wooden perch, his crest flattening against his feathers as his heart thrummed louder and louder in his ears, until it shook his entire body with each throb. 

Freddy…

He did not see Freddy leaving the place either—

His stomach dropped as he arrived at this cruel conclusion. His mind was in turmoil and as he tried to land on another rooftop he missed a step, falling to his side before hopping back, looking down below the streets.

The terrible feeling that had him in its clutch just grew stronger with each passing moment and panic settled in when he couldn’t find the green coat anywhere. 

“Maybe he went home,” he told himself as an attempt to calm down, before the darkest of thoughts crashed over his head again, “But I’d have seen it. He is not exactly a grey mouse and that coat is technically glowing against a dark backdrop like the back of a rose chafer and there weren’t many guests to begin with…”

There was no possible explanation for the poet’s disappearance and the realisation that he was unable to call for help in his current form just pulled him deeper into despair as he was presented by worse and worse outcomes, thoughts and images chasing each other within the storm that stirred up in his mind.

He had to be there. He had to be around here somewhere!

Frantically, he flew from window to window, searching for anything familiar in the darkness, however the interior of the pub was definitely empty. Not a single soul remained behind that would help him seek for the poet.

Just when he was about to let out a desperate cry for help, a familiar voice hit his ears, so happy as if he had just won something big in a bet. Lifting his head towards the small street next to the pub, he saw Freddy Riley walk, his back straightened proudly as he was talking to a bearded man.

“Oh how I wish I had a camera with me. His face when you told him the facts was priceless, like looking at the face of a cattle that was dragged to the slaughterhouse,” the man guffawed. “And this was your big nemesis? That puny scotsman?”

“Now, I never said he was a nemesis or anything of the sort. Just a nuisance and a leech of funds, that could have gone for better works. Keigan thinks she had found gold when it’s just a lousy pyrite and now that she invested so much into it, she refuses to admit it.”

“Huuuuh? The big Freddy Riley is feeling jealous, I see,” he laughed again, but his partner just shrugged. “Not the first time and probably not the last. Just remember the payment for my help... and of course for my silence.”

“Listen, I am not jealous. However, I do not take it kindly that the hag gave my place in the anthology over that scot bloke. You can tie a dog’s paw to a typewriter, it doesn’t mean it will write coherent sentences! As if! If I were her, I’d have fired him. No, I would have not even employed him in the first place! People like him are the lowest of low! The freeloaders of society!” 

He still continued but the rest of his words were swallowed by the night as the two men walked forward, eventually parting ways in the distance as two ghostly shadows illuminated by the light of the streetlamp. They did not wave at each other, nor looked back. This meeting was nothing but business. Cold, calculating, impersonal, reflecting Freddy’s modus operandi whenever he had dealt with Norton. 

Fearing the worst, Mike leapt up almost instinctively, using his remaining strength to fly over the streets to take a better look at his surroundings before gliding towards the street he assumed Freddy came from. It was a small alley where the lamplight from the main street barely reached. On the sides of the wall it was filled with leftover barrels and glasses collected in crates that served as an outer storage for the trash generated by the pub and possibly serving as a secondary exit for the members of the staff.

His entire body was shivering from fear as something invisible grabbed into his feathers, pulling him down as his heart reached its breaking point. When he flew closer and from the corner of the roof he noticed the familiar green coat, his body completely froze and his thoughts stopped pushing his mind into silence he had never experienced before.

What he had perceived from the world was the body lying on the ground. Unmoving.

A wrenching regret pressed down on his heart as he landed next to Norton’s face, only allowing to look away when he heard the laboured breath that was the result of his lungs fighting against an ailment no doctor was allowed to see yet.

“Norton? Norton! You idiot! You ass! You absolute blockheaded fool! I told you not to trust them!” he spoke in a desperate strained tone as he rested his forehead against Norton’s. “Come on, get up. I won’t allow you to sleep here all night when there is a bed back home. Besides, how could I leave you for Joker when the moment I leave you alone for an evening, I have to scratch you up from the pavement… Do you know how painful is that? Come on, get up and face consequences, you, pride of all poets!”

“Get up, Norton!” He tried again, this time, pulling on the poet’s hair hoping that he would finally get himself together and they could leave. However, Norton remained still, his face barely showed the tiniest twitch. “You cannot sleep here…”

Despair seemed to rip Mike's body apart from the inside as he realised the helplessness of his situation. He was nothing but a bird. Even if he had reverted back to his original form, be unable to help Norton since he had drained all of his magic to remain next to him. 

As a last resort, he could temporarily turn into a human, but he would also pay the price dearly for forcing himself into a form that was taken away by a curse. Even in his most desperate moment he would not want to shorten his weeks with Norton to mere days. 

Without knowing that the spell would surely help them, he wanted to keep holding onto it, just a little while longer if that meant that he could stay with the poet. 

All he had left was to try harder, hoping that Norton would finally open his eyes.

“You have to get up… Please. I am not going back to Joker, just get up. Let’s go home where your bed is…” he choked on his words as he started pulling on the man’s tie, before he ran to his hand to peck on his fingers. “You cannot die… You cannot be the one dying…”

In his panic, he did not notice the hunched figure entering the alley, dragging darkness in his wake and closely followed by the sound of feathers fluttering in the night as a pair of dark birds kept circling above them, occasionally swooping down as if they were to dance against the star patterned backdrop, enjoying the rare air of freedom beneath their wings.

Mike was deaf to them and their presence and his eyes never left Norton. He was scared that the moment he does something terrible might happen. Something he was not ready to face.

Eventually, he could no longer ignore the sound of footsteps and the inhuman purrs coming from above. By the time he noticed what was happening, the distorted form of a man towered above Norton, huffing as if it had trouble breathing beneath the mask of a bird he was wearing. His hair was more akin to long feathers that stuck out from beneath his top hat. 

Tilting his head to the side, the goggles glowed purple inspecting the poet with an emotionless gaze like a dark undertaker that was there to collect the soul belonging to him. 

Chapter Text

Climbing his way on top of Norton’s side, Mike spread his wings as wide as he could. Despite the fact that his entire body shivered with fear and he knew that if push came to shove he would have no chance to stop whatever was about to happen, his eyes never left the visitor and he was ready to fight with everything he had.

However, the man refused to step closer. He leaned down with his hunched back and inspected the poet from a distance, turning his head to the right, before doing a similar motion to the left almost as if he was a bird who only temporarily took the form of a man. There was a strange sense of familiarity and his tattered clothes reminded Mike of someone he had seen once, but the fear he had felt in his presence prevented him from looking deeper in his memories. 

Not like it mattered. Without speaking any word to introduce himself, the person in front of him might have been a foe as much as an ally.

The man leant closer before lifting his hand towards Mike. At the tip of his index finger the end of a golden fountain pen glistened in the dim light of the streetlamp as he pointed at the poet as if it was a knight, ready to cut into his flesh.

However, the stranger did not take any action, the purple light radiating from his visor gleamed with some sort of otherworldly curiosity as he let out a twisted whistle, breaking the suffocating silence. 

“What of him?” he asked with indifference, the mask distorting his voice. It was familiar, yet couldn’t have been more alien.

Lifting his head Mike thought he would say something else about the sight in front of him, but the man just waited patiently for his response, lowering his hand as he tilted his head to the side again, inspecting the scene in front of him. 

“So what of him?” he asked again, with more impatience. “Is he dead?”

“N-No,” Mike answered, lowering his wings to his side. He had to admit defeat when it was due and if the man wanted to harm them, he would have done it already and there wouldn't have been any reason to ask about Norton’s well-being. 

“He looks like he is dying,” the man stated in a strained voice that gradually slipped into the call of a bird the more he talked. It was both like someone who just learned how to talk and someone who gradually lost the ability to voice his thoughts. Mike couldn’t really decide which case was true. 

As he leaned forward the hair that looked like it ended in long feathers fell over his shoulder. He stood in silence, gathering his thoughts before he uttered the longest sentence since their meeting, “Although, I doubt you would heed the words of a monster, but if you need it, I can offer you my help.”

“What kind of help?” Mike was still doubtful about the stranger’s motive, but he also realised they did not have too many options left. Still, he decided to inquire further, “Because old fairy tales often start with a favour. Bargaining help for a future request that cannot be denied. How should I know that you are not a trickster who would appear on our doorstep to make his demands when he expects it the least?”

“Clever. Consider this. If we were to look at this case from your standpoint, my offer reflects the second half of the story. I had gotten what I wanted, even if it was not what I needed, now it is my turn to return a foolish favour for one that is actually helpful.”

Mike couldn’t see it, but for a moment he felt like the speaker behind a mask was showing him a bitter smile.

“Of course, if you don’t want my help, I can always just leave. I will find places to be and the fate of your friend becomes your sole responsibility,” he nodded in understanding. Even if he did not say it out loud, he clearly enjoyed the situation where Mike was forced into a corner by his own helplessness. 

However no matter how much he looked for a possible alternative solution, the doors closed in front of him, some were never even opened due to his small size and feathers that still covered his body regardless of what he wanted to pretend. 

Closing his eyes, he forced the trembling of his body to momentarily stop, so his voice wouldn’t waver.

“Well, since fate has brought you here first, how about I accept that offer of yours so it wouldn’t go to waste. If this is truly a debt you want to honour, then there is no better chance to do so as I am very much in need of a helping hand,” he answered, surprised by the strength of his own voice. 

The man nodded, before stepping closer to the poet and sliding his arms beneath Norton’s leg and shoulder. He did not particularly seemed to care about the man’s comfort, nor having a proper hold as he lifted the poet with a bigger momentum. He did not make a sound, making Mike wonder just how strong he was… or rather, how light Norton had become.

Chasing the thoughts away, he quickly flew up to the poet’s chest and sat down on his broach as his feathers gently shone their weak light on the quartz stones that sat in their bed of cheap silver.

Without exchanging further words, they started walking in the darkness, Norton’s coughs occasionally startling Mike, serving as a reminder of the price of his stubbornness.

* * *

As midnight slowly creeped its way towards them, the windows looking at the street gradually went dark, signalling that Mike had been truly left alone with someone he seldom knew. The man wearing the bird mask did not speak as they walked and hardly answered the quiet questions the bird tried to pose him with the hope to force some answer out of his claws. It felt like Mike had known him or at least met him in passing, but without any clue to follow, he kept meeting dead ends. 

Unlike Mike, who did not know this part of town, the stranger seemed to have no trouble navigating around and before he knew it, they were back at the marketplace where Ann’s toy store watched them with its dark windows. That was the moment when he first felt a strange suspicion appear at the back of his mind, nudging at his memories like an impatient child, trying to drag out the idea he had kept pushing around until he finally faced the truth and allowed the thought to manifest itself.

While Norton’s home was not necessarily a secret, there were only a few people who could possibly know how to make their way to the edge of town. Closing his eyes, his memories wandered back to birds, birds that relentlessly chased him, birds that were caged against their will, kept in the confinement of a small dusty room.

“Orpheus?” he asked in a small voice. He was almost ready that he might not get any answers until he saw the shoulders of the stranger rise and fall in defeat. He might have figured out the identity of the man, however the clear answer was once again denied from him as they walked on, surrounded by the silence of the night.

“Orpheus is dead,” the man said in a distorted, otherworldly tone. “However, unlike his kin he had stolen the name from, he doesn't have nightingales grieving his death and singing a miserable ballad at his grave as he had killed the only one who would do it.”

“What do you mean by that? Aren't you—” the crest on his head flattened when the stranger raised his voice. 

“I meant what I said. The man you have known as Orpheus died alongside the nightingale the moment he had caged her against her will. I am nothing but a Nightmare that was meant to haunt him until his last moment. Call me as such if you must.”

“You are not answering my question!” Mike stood up and ruffled his blue feathers before flying to the beak of the mask, looking into those purple visors after he was fed up that he was treated as nothing more than a pesky voice. Perhaps it was exhaustion that took over him, but he no longer had the patience to play games, especially not when so much depended on his course of actions, “If Orpheus is truly dead as you claim, then who are you really? Surely not an old friend of his. What is this about deals and offers? And don’t try to brush me off with another litany over Orpheus being dead. Even if he is dead, I have a right to know these things.”

“You should accept the easy answer.”

“But I won’t.” Mike puffed up his chest.

“You are not in the position to argue,” the man reminded him, adjusting the unconscious poet in his hold as if to show Mike that he could just leave any time he wanted. 

“Well, yes, I am a bird. No matter how I look at it, I will never be in a position to argue or even make demands, but this doesn’t mean that I won’t try. You can throw Norton on the ground, but then you would break your end of the so-called favour,” Mike noted as he grabbed into the golden tip on the beak in the mask, allowing his small claws to sink into the leather where the metal parts were secured. “I don’t want the easy answer. Someone like Orpheus would make it to the news if he was dead, unless of course, I am standing face to face with his murderer…”

The flock of birds above them flew up and started circling around the street, their black feathers melting into the night sky. They did not cry, they did not sing among each other, they served nothing more as a reminder that the past could always repeat itself. 

“Believe what you will. There are several ways to break a curse, but failure through force will always strengthen its hold and extend its chains. Orpheus tried to cheat magic but eventually everything vile he had inflicted on others fell back at him,” the man shook his head as if he were to condemn his past self. “Now that he is gone, it is up to me to make amends. That’s all I’ll say on the matter and I would like you to stop trying to pry into matters that don’t involve you.”

“You don’t need to tell me about curses. I know how they work,” he muttered with a gloomy tone in his voice. 

“Then you also know why it is not within my power to answer your questions.”

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Just to squeeze out as many details from the bird as he possibly could, however, when he looked at Norton’s unconscious body beneath him, he decided to close his beak and set his eyes on the road ahead thinking about Nightmare’s words.

How would one even cheat magic? He just couldn’t imagine. 

* * *

Nightmare did not ask anything on the rest of their walk. He did not need guidance on where to go, and he definitely did not need help to look for Norton’s house almost as if he was already familiar with the town despite allegedly never showing himself in front of them. 

He knew where their house was. He knew the way up to their staircase and he knew that Norton always kept his keys in a small pocket that was sewn on the inside of his messenger bag. Little details Mike only learned after spending every day in his company and someone who just appeared out of nowhere shouldn’t have any knowledge of.

But he kept silent. He did not make a comment when the man holstered Norton over his wide shoulder to open the door, nor when he knew how to navigate the small home without asking for directions. He moved through the darkness of the rooms like a shadow that always belonged there and did not need any light to know where he was going. 

Norton’s body hit the bed like he was a sack of flour as nightmare had turned him on his side, his clawed fingers pulling at the strings of the blanket. 

“He will need a doctor in the morning,” the man muttered through his mask.

“Why not now?” 

“I do wonder…” he breathed in disappointment before turning around t head back to the living room.

Mike was sure that the man would be leaving. Disappearing the same way he had arrived and leave behind a pile of questions that would never be answered. However, the small room where Norton kept most of his life suddenly lit up by the dim light of his gaslamp. 

Fearing that the stranger would be up to no good, Mike hastily hopped to the edge of the bed and with his last ounce of strength he flew after him, eventually landing at the nearest headrest of the couch while he kept his eyes on the hunched figure who barely took notice of his presence. Nightmare awkwardly held firewood between his claws, occasionally having one or two smaller logs fall between his fingers as he carried them to the small stove.

Norton hardly used it and he had always managed to find an excuse, either by pointing out the arrival of spring or how firewood was expensive so he needed to use what he had sparingly. Amazed by the fact that it was actually functional, Mike couldn't help but tilt his head in wonder when soft orange light started pouring out from the door.

“Can I ask one more question? I swear this one is not about Orpheus, but about something that might’ve more or less affected me directly if I were not careful enough.”

He did not miss the way Nightmare’s shoulders rose as he heaved a defeated sigh. “Fine. Go on.”

“Orpheus had kept a whole room full of birds.” The man nodded, but did take his eyes away from the stove. “At some point, he made a suggestion that I should help him with something that he refused to elaborate on. Then out of the blue, he reveals that he has connections to a man who was turned into a bird just like me. Now to state I know nothing about curses besides suffering from one, but I can’t help thinking about his reasons.”

The man with the bird mask seemed to let his words pass him. Through the mask, he was staring at the fire that devoured the small dry wood he managed to carry across the room.

“Once he must have had a reason. Something noble to help a person who had helped him since he was a lonely child. However Orpheus was devoured his own madness on the road to seek cure to his friend’s ailment. Magic is tangible, it slips through the fingers according to its own rules that cannot be broken through science and research. He sought people who suffered a similar fate with the belief that a key to a curse can open all. Once I was sure about his failure, I let go of his prisoners who were still waiting for salvation so they could find the keys to free themselves.” he turned towards Mike’s perch on the sofa. “Was this enough for your liking?”

“I’ll be thinking about your words for a while, yes.” Mike nodded, the crest on his head standing up a bit. 

“Good. In turn you could tell me where he keeps the books written by Orpheus.”

“What makes you believe that he kept them?”

To his question an otherworldly laughter shook the room. It was between the cry of a bird and human, but never truly likening itself to any of those. It filled the room with cold air, making Mike shiver beneath his feathers.

“We are not that different. That man clings to what he hates most. So, where are they?”

“First tell me what do you want to do with them?” he countered a question with another question as he flew closer to the man, eventually landing on the table near the stove.

“Burn them of course. Or did you think those three logs will warm this place up?”

He did not want to answer at first. Those books belonged to Norton, even if he refused to take a look at them once they no longer held any importance. He had no right to destroy something that belonged to the man who gave him a home and extended friendship towards him.

At the same time… Nightmare was right, even if it hurt to admit at first. Norton clung to Orpheus and the hurt he had caused. In his hands the books that contained stolen stories of paths he had never taken turned into bitter venom that seeped into his heart the more he thought about them. If the books were gone, he would not spend any penny on buying them again and eventually their existence would be buried by new memories.

Or so he hoped.

“They are on the top of the shelf,” he heard himself say before he had a chance to stop his beak from moving.

“I see.”

The floor creaked as the man moved around and reached up with his long arms to get the books one by one. Their colourful clothbound covers were covered in several layers of dust, but they still regained their beauty even if they were nothing more than fabrications built on the back of innocent fools. 

No books should be burned. It never resulted in anything good, but behind Nightmare’s actions he noticed a curious hint of shame. As if erasing the books from existence would make the circumstances of their creation nothing more than a bad memory. He did not want to help Norton forget his hatred or Orpheus, he was saving himself through cowardice. 

“The old devil was right, manuscripts don’t burn. But I suppose books do, even i they do a measly job at warming up this home,” Nightmare mused as he tore apart the red book with the black silhouette of a falling man, who was about to be greeted by hands protruding from ground. The fires did not care about the story hidden between the pages, they devoured it with glee as the pages crumpled up from heat.

“Listen, can I have one more request? I swear this is truly the last one.” 

Nightmare stopped and sighed. “What is it now?”

“I know you are really focused on getting rid of all books, but could you please leave that blue book, the copy of Chronicles of Paper Town alone. For personal reasons.”

“The book about the puny swallow? Fine.” Nodding, he put the blue book aside, as he went back to tear the rest apart, feeding their pages to the fire, not even bothering to flip through them and reminisce about their content. Those words belonged to a man who no longer walked among them and whose sins pulled him into the heart of the murky abyss until he was permanently chained to darkness. 

In the end Mike tried to convince himself about the rightfulness to his decision thinking; if Nightmare did not intend to look back then Norton should keep walking forward too.

Chapter Text

By the time he woke up the light had already forced its way into the bedroom, throwing a ray of light over the bundle of blankets on the bed that rose and sank unevenly, occasionally breaking the silence with a hoarse, unearthly cough. At first he closed his eyes, trying to lure himself back to sleep while he enjoyed the warmth of early summer. However, his eyes immediately flew open when the next fit echoed in the room ending panic through his body dragging him out of his own makeshift bed with a swift jump to get closer to Norton.

His wings felt heavy after overexerting them last night. They refused to follow his orders at first, making him flinch in pain as he tried to lift them, but eventually they slowly folded out from his side, revealing faded blue feathers that had seemed to lose all their shine just within a month. They no longer shimmered in sunlight serving as a cruel reminder of the magic that allowed him to keep this form was eating him away, gradually stripping him from the abilities a bird should have. 

Thankfully, he still had enough in him to fly to Norton’s side even if his body cried out in pain from being forced to move. Once Mike reached his destination, he fell like a small stone, rolling off the human shaped hill until he landed on his back, his feet and stomach facing the ceiling.

He was really getting weaker to the point it he could only laugh at his misery.

Eventually, an annoyed huff left him as he rolled to his stomach and stood up, waiting in silence to see if the pile would move. Only then he managed to gather enough courage to pull the edge of the blanket off his face with his beak. 

“See?! I told you it was a stupid idea, but of course, you are a stubborn ass who needs first-hand experiences to believe anything. Out of the two of us, I am the one who is supposed to lack common sense,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the poet’s pale face that reminded him of a ghost. Said ghost was barely breathing, almost as if he could slip away from this world at any moment. “Now, you should really get up so we can at least go downstairs and ask the house porter if he could fetch you a doctor… Mind you a doctor that should have seen you a week ago, if you’ve listened to me…”

Out of the two of them it was hard to tell who was dying faster. However, he knew that he couldn’t allow Norton to die before him. As the self-proclaimed bluebird of happiness this would have been the worst case scenario.

His coughs were worse than before and he was sure the evening cold did not help either. The fever that only made itself known as a warning fire grew into something akin to a wildfire that quietly devoured him from the inside, burning up his body. It was only a matter of time before it completely gave up on him and Mike wanted to prevent this at all cost.

Pushing his crested head against Norton’s nose he decided to seek help even if his heart cried out when he had to leave the sleeping form of the man behind. His feathers let out a quiet whistle as he pushed himself away from the bed and for now he ignored the pain that crushed his own body with each movement.

Outside the living room he couldn’t find a single soul. Nightmare was gone and if it was not for the stove that still radiated with faint heat, Mike would have been keen to believe that last night was nothing more but an awful dream that blended into their reality, dirtying its bright colours. 

Oh how much he wanted to blame Freddy! To push every bad thing onto his name so he could finally direct his feelings onto one person. It would have been easy, after all, he was the one who let hatred win over his heart until he decided to act upon his hatred and inflict hurt on Norton. 

However, once Mike heaved an annoyed sigh, it was clear that the trouble started with Orpheus and everything else just piled on top of it while the original problem slowly started to rot at its core, poisoning everything else around itself. 

Orpheus was the coward who pushed Norton down a path he had no prior knowledge of by twisting a personal story into a monstrous tale of horror while he kept Norton’s image attached to it. He was the one who studied him from the distance as if he was nothing but an animal that would eventually end up beneath the hands of a taxidermist once it had served its purpose on the stage of a cruel experiment on humanity. Now that the man had lost everything, he hurriedly appeared at the doorstep to cover his tracks as if fire could heal the wounds he had knowingly inflicted on his victim.

He did not burn those books for Norton’s sake, but because he believed that this would ultimately pull the veil of forgetting over all the mess he had caused if he had destroyed every evidence of his actions around his victim. It was far easier than a direct apology.

However, on the top of the small table above the scribbles of Norton’s poems, the blue book he had requested to be spared was shining brightly, the golden foil against the Prussian blue fabric glittering in the warm sunlight of spring with a small swallow painted in various shades of light blue to give the impression that it was folded from paper.

He knew it better than anyone that Joker would never tell him what happened while he was away. Part of it was due to the shame he had felt for breaking his own curse, while failing to help Mike, part of it was because in the process of his own great escape he was burdened by the guilt of failing everyone else around him. The very same guilt that peaked when he burned the bridges that connected him to the rest of the troupe and left Mike alone in the Forest of no Return.

If it was not for the meddling of that good for nothing author, he was sure the pieces would have been forever lost to time and just like Orpheus, Joker would have been able to cover his tracks.

In the moment, he felt the urge to sit down and read the book, immerse himself in the past he had missed and catch up on the events the way people would read forgotten diaries left in the attic. He desperately wanted to see the world he had missed while he was reduced to a forgotten task left in a forest.

With his feet, he was about to flip the hardcover open when a series of coughs reminded him of the situation he was truly facing.

Reading could wait, he told himself as he ventured on, looking for a way out from the small home. 

With swift movements, he flew around the living room, looking at the windows, searching for a possible exit, however even if the night before they were slightly open, Nightmare, in his sudden kindness, decided to lock them to keep the warmth within the walls of the house. His route took him to the kitchen where the window was only small enough to let in enough light that would brighten the counter, but that too was locked and he might have even wagered the idea that it would not budge even if he tried to pry it open. The hinges were covered in blackened dust that made his back shiver just by looking at it. 

His last hope was the bathroom, the point where he first managed to infiltrate the fortress-like dark building. Keeping hope in his heart, he decided to venture onward, flapping his wings faster than before only to stop at the ledge beneath the window. Through the dirty windows he could see the blue skies outside, and the tops of the trees that swayed in the wind like green paint on the surface of water. He stumbled backwards as his eyes never left the blurred scenery in front of him, his small heart throbbing wildly in his throat as he finally allowed his composure to crumble.

His hard earned confidence quickly faded when he finally had the strength to admit; Without doubt, he was trapped. His voice would not carry through the thick brick walls, and he doubted his pestering would be enough to somehow drag Norton back from his slumber. He might just make his state worse by tiring his body even more when it was fighting its own battle with the fever that was allowed to grew into something deadly.

He let out a choked laugh as a painful suffocating feeling settled in his chest.

Yesterday, he managed to avoid using his last bit of magic as a desperate effort to help Norton. However it became quite clear that this time no matter how loud he would beg for help, the walls would most likely deafen his pleas only making his voice go hoarse. This did not stop him at first. Several times as he flew between rooms he let out a cry for help to the point his voice chords became hoarse from the strain he had put on them.

Taking a deep breath, he eventually flew back to Norton, landing ungracefully against the blanket once his claws got tangled in the fabric making him let out a long, yet tired string of curses as he tried to free himself from its confinement only to see the small holes his claws made in the blanket.

“Norton Campbell, you good for nothing lousy poet,” he started, staring at the sleeping face in front of him. “This is your last chance to wake up. And I am not kidding. Oh how you wish I was. So if you won’t wake up get ready that I’ll be even more insufferable and annoying than before. You will be no longer allowed to wriggle your way out of everything.”

With that he touched his forehead against Norton’s, feeling his stomach drop a bit when he thought about the feathers that stood between such simple and easy display of affection.

Norton did not react, he kept sleeping, his brows furrowed from the pain that probably settled on his chest. The only response he got was a raspy breath and a cough that involuntarily broke free from the poet’s lips on occasions.

“Well then Mr. Campbell…” He flew on the ground, looking up at the edge of the bed. “Just don’t forget that I have warned you. You will surely hate me for what I am about to do, but be assured I am doing it because… Well, let’s just say that I love you. No matter how strange it may sound. Although I know you would never believe this if I said it to your face, because you never believed that anything good could happen to you.”

In fairy tales, big sacrifices made by the protagonists were usually rewarded handsomely. They either got something that would help them in their further quest in the form of an item or they straight up earned the reward that would end their story with an appropriate moral.

Mike knew he would not get this kind of treatment. Maybe he would be grieved for a small amount of time, one or two weeks at best, but his end would go mainly unnoticed just like his whole existence after he was cursed into his current state of being.

And yet… he couldn’t care less. If his sacrifice would help Norton it would already be worth it, this knowledge alone made his chest feel lighter and helped him find the necessary determination needed for the last trick a cursed circus artist such as him could perform.

With lazy wing-beats he glided down from the bed arriving on the ground with ease, his claws clattering against the wooden floor as he slid a bit forward from the momentum.

Heaving a deep breath, he closed his eyes, allowing the small crest made of feathers to flatten against his head as his small bird heart hammered loudly against his ribcage.

The first time he performed this magic was to get even with Norton after he cheated himself out of a bargain. A bargain that ended up hurting them both in the long run, pushing Norton into a web of connections that he would have avoided if it were not for him, while it forced Mike to face that his curse might truly be something that cannot be broken by simple words and determination.

His actions back then were led by hot-headed anger. Anything to get back at Norton for breaking the bargain with him.

The second time, seemed to be easier.

As he plucked a feather he winced a bit, but the pain was nowhere near as terrible as it previously was. Perhaps he grew used to it through these past days. Even if some of them still drew blood from his skin and slowly painted his azure feathers red from the inside out, sticking onto them like a bad premonition, he quietly kept plucking them, holding his breath as the numbing feeling prickled his skin where his feathers used to be. His small feet shook as he worked, occasionally stopping when his tongue tasted the metallic liquid that spread faster than he was able to make a circle from his own feathers.

It was nowhere near perfect, but it seemed to do the trick. After a few minutes the circle of feathers seemed to melt together around his body into a blue light, pulling him along as it heeded his last call.

Magic coursed through his body as it ripped him apart, leaving nothing but pain in its wake making the world grow smaller in size the more the room spun around him. The remaining feathers melted together into a strange amalgamation, connecting into something new that was no longer part of him, yet undoubtedly belonged to him, covering his body with the illusion of fabric. 

The world grew dark around him as he was ripped from his old form, but for the first time in years he had felt like he had found his way back to how things meant to be.

Even if it was only temporary, he couldn’t help but smile at his own misery. 

Chapter Text

Common knowledge is that mirrors tend to show reflections. Some special ones, like the mirrors circus Hullabaloo had in their makeshift maze, were capable of distorting the image presented on their surface by enlarging or minimising features of the objects in front of them. Mike remembered jumping to and fro between mirrors as a kid, laughing at the images that were presented to him as if he were nothing but a comical character from a picture book.

Now, the mirror in Norton’s bathroom was nothing like those used to make people laugh. Despite its chipped side and the light scratch marks across its surface it did its job like any proper mirror would do and strictly only reflected back what was put in front of it. 

Nothing more and nothing less.

And yet, as Mike stared at it, he felt like the mirror did not necessarily show him the present, but a past he had nearly forgotten. He did not remember he had dirty blond hair, the tips turning into a wave and curling upward sticking against his skin as he kept twirling the strands that framed his face, nor did he remember the freckles that were scattered across his cheeks like small stars on the evening sky or the mismatched eyes with his right eye somehow leaning more into amber than blue for some reason.

He was definitely no longer a bird, although his attire still kept a close resemblance to feathers with the end of his coat ending like a pair of folded wings and the hem mimicking the familiar colours of the ring around the bird’s neck, starting grey then gradually turning red in the middle. If he buttoned the coat up, he might have looked like a human dressed up as the bird with shimmering blue feathers he had often seen in picture books.

The resemblance was uncanny. Almost as if it was to remind him that his current state was nothing but an illusion he had gained by hopping over the chains that bound him. However no matter how he looked at the moment, at the end of the day he was still a man trapped in the form of a bird, who just happened to parade around wearing a human mask of himself.

The idea made his lips pull into a smile, bringing forth a soft snicker when he saw how comical his reflection looked.

“Like a frog,” he shook his head in disbelief at the sudden realisation, but the smile never left his lips.

There was some fun to be had when once completely forgets his own features. It was like meeting a completely new person he could not get rid of even if he wanted to and with all of his imperfections and freckles he was there to stay for a while. 

Because the whole trick was only a temporary illusion.

The thought left him with a pang of sadness before he quickly heaved a deep breath and pushed his thoughts into a far corner of his mind.

“Well, I have bigger things to worry about right now,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair and enjoying the sensation of the softness of his own hair. A sensation he could never experience when he was stuck with the coarse and scaly legs of a bird and now he was like a child, relearning how different surfaces felt against his fingertips.

He was still figuring out how things worked. How to be human after he had grown far too used to claws and feathers.

His next use of his newfound abilities was to open the windows across the house in order to let the warm breeze finally make its way through the rooms, dispersing the scent left behind by charred books and the suffocating air created by the rotting walls and the mold that crept in the corners and behind furnitures here the humidity would get stuck. That was the first thing Murro did with his room whenever he got sick, so it was the only logical step in his book.

Heaving a sigh as he allowed his smile to fade, he walked around the rooms, touching and lifting up everything as if that was the best way to remind himself of his own human nature, before his steps took him to the small kitchen, with its uneven floor and broken then repaired furniture. The first place they had a proper discussion and the first time he finally managed to connect with his own humanity by having breakfast with the most insufferable man in town.

In the end, as if to honour the memory he decided the best way to start his three days of freedom was by making some tea.

He threw the brilliant blue coat on the chair as he started rummaging around the small kitchen, looking for the pot Norton used to heat up water and the small chipped cup he had used on a daily basis. After all, he would certainly not get mad to know that the one using it in his absence was none other than his accursed companion. Right?

Norton would surely complain about it just like how he would always do, scolding Mike for using the expensive cup that was already chipped when he had brought it at the local fleamarket, because he feared that he might break it even further His concern was not really rooted in the indescribable value of the ceramic cup, but rather in the small, yet honest wish for people to appreciate the hard work that went into acquiring it.

Regardless of its history, it still held the same amount of liquid as any other cup would while Norton’s tea would still taste like rubbish, even if it was served in the Queen’s prized china tea set.

That was Mike’s way of seeing things. 

It only occurred to him that before he did anything, he had to get used to the simple act of being in his own skin. The anatomy that he got used to over the past years was suddenly gone, his legs no longer bent backwards and they did not serve the purpose of grabbing things, instead he had to rely on his hands, which were no longer covered in feathers.

When the realisation hit, he almost dropped the empty cup as he tried to put it down, as his fingers refused to listen to his orders, and he had found his legs being unused to walking making him bump into the furniture around the house, making them of the sofa screech as he accidentally gave it a push.

Mike only felt somewhat relieved when he finally made his way back to the small bedroom and managed to wriggle the window open a bit. Norton winced at the fresh air that hit his face, but he did not show any sign of waking up and only turned to his other side in response. 

At least he was sleeping, Mike told himself as he sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning back until he could take a peek at Norton’s face. His lips were moving as if he were to say something, but the words dispersed into soft mumbles the moment he tried to speak them. Like silent pleas one would utter in solitude.

However, this time, Mike was capable of reaching out, caressing the man’s skin with the back of his fingers, feeling the sensation of its surface for the first time since they had met. It was softer than he expected it to be, and the physical touch left a fluttering feeling in his chest. The fever still tortured Norton, making his body shiver in pain, but he seemed to relax under his touch almost as if Mike provided him with a lifeline in his nightmare.

“You are very selfish you know,” Mike muttered as he listened to the laboured breath next to him. “You refuse to help me break my curse and now I was forced to look for a tiny tiny loophole in it just to be able to help you because you completely charmed me just in a few weeks. It’s a bit ironic isn’t it? Ever since we have met, I kept helping you however I could, but in exchange I just got scolded. What would you say if you saw me in this form? I bet you would do still scold if you had noticed the little trick I just did… Or perhaps you would finally admit that I am quite handsome when I am not forced to peck at the food in front of me.”

He let out a faint chuckle as the corners of his lips were pulled into a smile. Norton’s reaction would have been priceless, but even he was not that cruel to wake up a sick man.

“I’ll get you a doctor, or at least someone who can help. It would not look good if the protégé of the blue bird of happiness died before the bird, after all.”

It was hard to leave Norton behind. The man who always withstood everything life threw at him even as everything around them fell apart now looked so small and frail as if a breeze would steal him away. For the first time he was honestly scared of the thought that something bad might happen while he is away and he would not be there to support Norton.

But sitting there on the bed would surely doom both of them and in order to save the poet, he had to do a leap of faith while he hoped for the best. 

Sliding his palm against Norton’s as he lifted the cold hand, he pressed his lips against his pale skin.

“You better not die while I am away,” he warned him, but his throat constricted painfully, making him choke on his last word. Before the tears could catch up to him, he quickly hopped to his feet and took a deep breath feeling his entire body tremble.

One thing was sure. He was not looking forward to the day ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Despite living in the town for almost a month, he had to admit that he still did not have common routes noted in his head and without the ability to fly above the rooftops and seek landmarks, he could no longer have the map of the town spread beneath his feet. Getting around was no longer as easy as he had grown used to it over the years and he would often find himself standing still, looking around at intersections while he jogged his memory of the town’s landscapes.

Then there was the problem of walking. Even if his legs were able to move faster, he was still getting used to the strange sensation of them bending normally and the fact that they no longer carried the featherweight body of a small bird, but the weight of an adult man. He would often stumble forward or hit against a lamppost trying to manoeuvrer a form that suddenly grew wider than his line of sight. Some looked at him with concern, some smiled at his awkward act, but he just huffed comically walking forward into the direction that felt right.

Even hours after he had regained his body, it was alien, almost as if it did not belong to him.  But the more he walked, more and more of his old habits slowly returned and soon was a strange hop to his steps as the magic temporarily eased the numbing pain that used to course through his body. For once he did not need to think about how long he can do before running out of breath or how much he can do before his own body collapses from his actions.

It was a strange, elevating feeling.  Where dread should have made his nest in his heart, there was the thrill that belonged to the last deed he would leave behind.

He should have felt dread at his unusual way of breaking free from his curse, but for the first time in a week he felt content.

After so much waiting, the ground sunk beneath his feet when he walked over a small green patch of grass, his footsteps finally made a sound as he jumped down the small stone fence and the world finally on the level it was supposed to be experienced. To exist and to have an impact on his surroundings was something he did not know he needed and now he could not get enough of it.

He attracted gazes because of his natural charm, not because he was a tiny blue bird seemingly lost from its flock.

Fortunately now that he was in possession of a temporary human form asking around was not only safer, but easier too. Possibly due to the seemingly expensive attire he wore, people were eager to have a few words with him and even offered to take him to the destination he was seeking with the hope that they could spend even more time in his company. However, Mike quickly picked up a polite smile and with a small bow, he backed away from his helpers rushing through the small town now that he knew the exact directions, quietly enjoying the fact that he was not only allowed to speak without the risk of being put in a cage and showed around at a freak show, but the way people were so keen to help him.

Without much wandering about, he had quickly found his way to Norton’s office and for the first time he was able to look around properly. The first time he visited, everything seemed to be gray and gloomy almost as if someone had stolen happiness away from the place. Now that he had looked up, he noticed the small decorations that were lined up the inner corridors and the old elevator that had its cage hugged by black leaves and flowers made of metal. Bit by bit, his memories of the place were changed as he headed deeper, straight towards the small door, his gaze wandering around as if he did not believe his own eyes.

The small courtyard already had the plants from the cellar brought to the surface, their leaves still yellow after waiting months for warmer climate to rear its head. An old lady, probably someone who lived there tended the geraniums with care, diligently collecting the dried up stems in a small bucket. She was the only one who, upon noticing Mike, just gave him a nod before letting her attention be consumed by more urgent matters.

His lungs burned from the breath he was holding, but he eventually managed to convince himself to take a step and open the door. Things could not get any worse than that.

Sticking only his head inside, he looked around, but saw no one. The receptionist’s desk where Patricia usually spent her time was empty; only her pens set sideways on the desk served as clue that the woman was around, probably keeping the whole place together with her orderly manner and making sure Mrs. Keogh doesn’t have to personally scold her own employees.

In the end, he sat down on the low couch kept there for guests, resting his hands on his knees to keep himself from messing with fidgeting around in impatience. If he was given the chance, he would have already ran past the whole office, looking into every nook and cranny that he had learned about while he was carried around in the form of a small bird. However, humans had different rules and no matter how important his case was, or how much he needed help, he had to abide by them in order to get further.

The whirring of the printing machine could be heard through the silence, occasionally with someone’s voice, a loud discussion melting into its rhythmical sounds. He had nothing to himself, but the key to Norton’s home that weighed awkwardly against his pocket, growing heavier the more he waited as he was reminded that every moment he had spent with waiting, was a moment lost from Norton’s life. 

Where was Patricia? She was always there when Norton visited, but when he needed her the most she refused to come to her own desk. His legs drummed on the carpet below him, making a rhythmic thudding sound that filled out the quietness of the front hall.

He flinched when the door suddenly opened and a familiar voice joined the cacophony of machines. The red hat and white shirt with its wrist covered in ink could only belong to none other than Edgar Valden. His words when he glanced at Mike, but he did not heed him any mind. Without the brilliant blue feathers he probably lacked the certain sort of elegance and gracefulness he was seeking for inspiration and his charm as a bird barely translated into his human form.

After him Patricia finally appeared, her hair tied together on the side into a low ponytail with a thin red ribbon complementing the dark long skirt and her beige shirt almost perfectly. Perhaps due to his sudden change in point of view in which he could look at Patricia, he was able to see a fuller picture and the professional, yet elegant look left him at awe.

“Thank you for coming with me to the post office,” Edgar nodded towards the woman. He tried to look neutral, but his words wavered for a second, before he added, “You have far more patience than me when it comes to dimwits when Victor is not around.”

“So was I only a replacement for Grantz?” Patricia’s eyebrows jumped slightly.

“That’s not what I said,” he argued but a faint blush spread across his cheeks. As his eyes met with Mike’s he quickly nodded “A-Anyway, I’ll be at the studio if you need anything. Keogh wants to see my sketches for the Wilde illustrated collection today and I barely started working on them.”

“Just make sure to not run out of deadlines,” Patricia warned him as she went behind her counter and took a seat as a sign that she was ready to return to work. Reaching her notebook, she flipped through the pages going to and fro several times as her eyes have repeatedly found Mike. It was as if there was an anomaly in her system that she couldn’t make any sense of, however, soon a knowing smile appeared in the corner of her lips, chasing away the serious expression she was wearing out of profession.

“Excuse me, but we are not expecting any guests today. Mrs. Keogh is rather busy at the moment, Mr. Morton,” she said, making Mike freeze when his name had left her lips.

“H-How…?”

“I did tell you, I happen to have a keen eye when it comes to magic but I am also able to sense its presence. In fact, I could always sense it,” she admitted as her smile slowly turned into a concerned frown. “However, this time it’s even stronger than before. You might not see it, but the curse is tearing apart the threads of magic around you…”

“Oh, I might have fiddled a bit with its limits here and there even when I was already on my last leg,” Mike admitted, but he had to turn away. He could no longer bear Patricia’s gaze on him and the fact that she had immediately connected the dots and she was ready to scold him for his foolishness.

However, he had a goal. And time was running out. So taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage to face the receptionist.

“But I can explain myself this time! I need a doctor– I tried looking for one but I have no clue where to start and I don’t have money either to pay for one and there was nobody I could ask.”

“Is this about Campbell?” 

“When was it not about him?” Mike let out a shaky laugh, feeling his chest became heavier as the truth was left to roam freely between them. Norton had weaved himself around his life with so much ease, by the time he noticed his machinations, his goal in life became to keep the poet alive. A goal that he had miserably failed several times. 

“I’ll notify Mrs. Keogh about Campbell’s absence. I’ll be back soon,” Patricia’s shoes echoed in the quiet room as she made her way towards the small corridor.

“B-But the doctor! I did not come here to tell you he is sick,” Mike argued, feeling panic rise up to his throat. He wanted to jump after Patricia to stop her from leaving, but he did not want to be a nuisance. Patricia already helped him with so much, he should not test just how far her generosity can reach.

“I cannot leave on a whim even if there are urgent matters at hand. Once I am back we will get a doctor,” she reassured him as she disappeared from his sight, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts that became even louder as he slumped back to the couch.

He wanted to run. Run away somewhere until he finds a doctor no matter the price. Even if he had nothing to his name, he would make things work. He always did.

But now he was stuck in the dark little room where the minutes crawled forward so slowly they felt like hours. 

* * *

Norton would rave with furry if he had known that Mike not only let Patricia into his home, but also a doctor. He would certainly rub it in Mike’s face that his shabby home should not see any guests because the curtains haven’t been washed since he had moved in and the mold that spread from the floor and slowly made its way towards the ceiling in the shadow of a shelf was nothing to be proud of. 

He had no way of knowing that Patricia’s attention was not on his living conditions but the pitiful state he had managed to land himself into. He could not see the concern on the woman’s face and the way she shook her head in disbelief as she stared at the messy bed and the man who looked small and fragile, as if a mere breeze could whisk him away.

Dr. Dyers looked young for her profession, her brown hair that she had kept in a bun had no grey strands and there were no wrinkles on her round face, but the way she examined Norton suggested that Patricia asked for her for a reason. She walked around him, making sure to set up a proper diagnosis, while listening to the symptoms Mike had listed for her, nodding along as she inspected the patient’s throat and listened to his laboured breaths. 

“He was a coal miner,” Mike added at last when he realised this might be important information. The doctor stopped for a second, returning back to Norton’s chest with her stethoscope as she raised her hand to signal that she needed silence.

Once she was sure that she finished the examination, she straightened her back, looking at Patricia. Since she was the one calling for her, it seemed that she was also the one she considered to be a partner in this conversation. 

“I did my best, but determining whether this is a mere cold, pneumonia or some sort of chronic illness that decided to attack now deemed to be quite the challenge and we also need to consider that Mr. Campbell being a miner further complicates the diagnosis because we need to consider the underlying condition of the dust lung disease,” she explained, her voice remaining calm. “There is already a type of pneumoconiosis that causes inflammation in the lungs. Could you perhaps tell me about the symptoms that he had experienced before the first sign of illness appeared? Was he fatigued?”

“Yes,” Mike nodded. The heavy atmosphere in the room made his voice strained as if he was near tears. As if listing everything could make Norton’s diagnosis better, less life-threatening he started to list everything he could think of. “He was coughing and short of breath whenever he got stressed and often felt exhausted after longer periods of walking. He is a stubborn mule when it comes to resting though, so he kept pushing himself even when I asked him to stop.”

The doctor closed her eyes.

“Figures. Did he have a tendency to abruptly come down with a fever before he got ill?”

“A-As far as I know, no. Not since I've known him at least,” Mike shook his head, but the questions made him feel more stressed as they went on. Dyers kept asking about Norton’s health, his past problems even brought up his meals. And Mike answered, his voice trembling when he realised that these questions were not about how to cure Norton, but to measure up his chances of survival. 

“I see…” the woman finished taking notes in her notebook, then turned towards her brown medical bag and pulled out a small vial with a leather case. Upon rolling it out and revealing its contents Mike saw needles and syringes of various sizes. She did not talk as she worked and her eyes never left her equipment. Silently she took a small syringe in her hand. Within its glass cylinder Mike could see a strange contraption with a metal spring and a cork at the end. It looked heavy and dangerous, definitely not something people would use to heal people, but Mike fought down his doubt. 

Assembling the tool together with a fitting needle as she kept checking the vial in front of her she explained:

“He is unable to take any medicine in his current state, so until he comes around I’ll need to use a more direct method. We should focus on fighting his fever for the time being with antibiotics… If… Once he is conscious, we can start a more thorough treatment. For now this is all I can do.”

If… 

Mike did not believe his ears, the world suddenly grew loud, almost too loud around him, but the sound came from within him, his heart throbbing so loudly that he could no longer see Norton.

Suddenly he felt a hand around his arm as he was led to the bed and forced to sit on its edge. Patricia told him something, but her words were lost in the static caused by his own thoughts. All he perceived was that the discussion with the doctor went on without him.

The idea that Norton could die occurred to him a few times, but the reality of the situation weighed heavier on his mind than he thought it would be and infected him with fear he never thought he would ever experience. He felt scared and anxious to look at Norton. That pale skin and shallow yet hoarse breaths. When will he have the last one? Soon? Now? Tomorrow? Nobody could tell. 

The doctor leant over him, asking questions, but he could not hear her. She should be treating Norton. Not him. He was already a lost cause…