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He flits his eyes open, stifling back a yawn as he stretches his wings to rid the cramped feeling in them. He feels a warmth pressed against his back and a familiar snout resting behind his neck, warm puffs of breath slightly tickling him. He smiles. He can’t help it. Despite this being a familiar occurrence for the last few centuries, he thinks he could never grow tired of the feeling of another person beside him in bed, never grow tired of the feeling of being held tight by someone he loved. He feels safe, and he almost wants to burrow deeper in the covers and melt into that warmth in a deep sleep once more, but he knows he can’t.
Slowly to not wake up the Piglin, he removes the strong arm holding him and gets out of bed. The man mumbles a bit in his sleep, something that makes his heart ache. He leans down and presses a soft peck on his brow before tip-toeing out of the room. He always let Techno sleep in. He was a deep sleeper, and a few chores was nothing Phil couldn’t handle on his own.
He opens the front door, stepping out into the chill air. He shivers a bit at the temperature. Frigid temperatures were something he should be used to by now surely, but his anatomy kept that from happening. Hollow bones and thin skin did nothing to keep warmth. It was ok though. His body may not be used to the cold, but he was used to baring through it. Just a couple of chores and he could go back into the warmth of their cozy cabin.
Feeding the animals comes first, an almost tedious job with the amount around their land. Techno seemed to have an affinity for collecting and naming each stray they come across. Phil thought he would never be able to keep up with all of the names, but surprisingly the names stuck. He says hello to Steve as he feeds him raw meat, the bear going for it happily.
When he finishes with feeding all the wolves in the den, he checks on the farms. He had built most of them in his frenzy of thinking of anything other than Wilbur. Wilbur was alive again now, running around and talking to friends, but the ache is still there. They used to be so close when he was growing up..but now, the man barely speaks to him.
No, no. Now was not the time to think, to mourn. He busies his numb hands with collecting the scute from the growing turtles and the honey from the bees. It does good for not thinking, but by the time he’s collecting pumpkins in the chill underground farm, a large hand rests on his shoulder which causes his wings to flare out in shock.
“Phil-”, Techno’s voice rumbles.
“Mate, you gave me a fright!”, Phil laughs as he puts a hand over his chest. Techno doesn’t look so amused.
“You forgot your coat..again might I add.”, The Piglin says. Ahh so that’s the cause of that serious look his way. He hadn’t even noticed. He takes the item in Techno’s hand, pulling it over himself. Ok, maybe it did help with the chill a little, but he still felt numb as all hell. He smiles at the care of the man.
“Thanks.", He says. Techno hums. Oh, he wasn't dropping this.
"You're doing all the chores by yourself again.", Techno points out.
"Yeah. Nothing I can't handle mate. You can help me make breakfast if it'll calm you down.", Phil tried to brush off. Was he a bad person for letting his companion sleep in? He didn't think so.
"Alright. What's bothering you? You only work yourself in the ground when you have a project idea or you're thinkin too much. And I doubt you're suddenly very interested in collecting honey.", Techno says. Phil's smile wavers.
"You're the one thinking too much mate.", He laughs but even it sounds too forced in his own ears. He latches onto Techno's arm, leaning against him. "Let's go in, yeah? I'm getting a bit chill."
"Should have come out with your jacket then.", Techno snarks but he concedes with a smile, and the two walk back into their warmth of the cabin and the topic is dropped for now. Phil knew Techno wouldn't hear the end of it. Phil might be stubborn but Techno was even more so when it dealt with Phil's bad habits. It was ok though.
Techno made them a pot of honeyed green tea as he fried some bacon and hash browns on the stove. It was in those moments when he didn't see the blood stained on his hands. When he didn't see the cold look his son gave him, sinking further and further away from the man who waved goodbye with a promise to write home. Techno kisses the top of his head and he feels at peace.
It was ok. He had time to mend what was broken between them. But Wilbur was aging, and he was not. He didn't have an infinite amount of time..
He loses his appetite, picking at the fried potatoes before downing his tea to settle his stomach. Techno gives him a worried look when he clears his plate off, most of it still full.
The next morning he does not wake to the sunrise. Instead he wakes to a pounding headache and a heat that prickles at his skin, much too hot. He frowns, turning towards the Piglin and putting a hand over his fur. Was he sick? Usually he didn't cause Phil to overheat like this. He sees the sun already up and curses inwardly. He was already behind, the animals must be starving. He leaves quietly, bones aching and body shivering despite the lingering heat. He'll make some warm tea for Techno and bring him breakfast in bed when he is done. It was the least he could do for his ill partner.
He grabs his coat, both not wanting to upset Techno further and actually feeling the need for it with how the cold nipped him already. When he stepped out into the snowy landscape of their front yard he shivered almost violently. When had the temperatures begun to dip more? He knew it was on the cusp of the autumn season, but this was a bit much.
He staggers to the barns, feeding the animals who all happily eat what's given. His head pounds as he finishes with the wolves, his feet dragging beneath him as he tries to make his way to the bee farm. Maybe it would be ok if he didn't check on the rest today. He just wanted to get inside and defrost. He takes a step and then another step and all at once it crashes down on him, his limbs growing much too heavy to carry himself as he falls forward into the cold snow, spotty vision going to black.
He awakes to a shout. It's an awful one. So filled with worry and rising urgency. Was that Techno? He whines, trying to lift his head from the ground but it falls back downwards with a heavy thunk. But that's ok, because hooved hands hold it, checking his features before they hoist him upwards. Warm, warm arms and chest bracket him in a safe hold and they carry him. He shivers, eyes struggling to stay open. He buries himself in the soft fabric of a red cloak as he feels them move. A chirp leaves his lips. He hears some chirps back from crows, their worry clear. He wants to reassure them, reassure Techno too, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes or speak.
He feels a rush of warmth. They must be inside. He’s laid on a mattress, and only then does he peel his eyes open, another broken chirp leaving him as he winces.
“Gods, Phil..”, Techno is saying. A large hand is placed atop his forehead. “You’re burning up. Gonna get some pots ok?”
Techno leaves. Phil doesn’t think a health potion was made to fix a flu, but it was clear his friend was worried enough to try. Gods, he bets the man will put a totem in his hand next. He giggles at the image, at least he thinks he does. The man comes back and tips his head back, helping a bottle to his lips to drink from which he does. It’s an awful taste, and he gags which is barely enough warning before Techno puts the wastebin to his head before he hurls into it.
It burns the back of his throat and makes his vision spotty again. When he’s done he lays there, exhausted.
“Just need sleep..”, He hopes he said clearly enough before he lets exhaustion carry him away into a dream.
He sees Wilbur. Not the Wilbur with the gray hairs and red glasses that barely conceal his hardened eyes, no, he sees Wilbur, his little boy. He’s wearing his yellow jumper, his favorite that Phil has to wrestle with him for to get it on wash days. The boy is not as sunny as the color of his favorite sweater though, no, he looks pained, his eyebrows pinched and lips set in a frown that breaks his heart.
“Oh dear.”, He says as he puts a hand to the boys head. He was scalding. Hot, much too hot. “I’ll be right back, ok? You’re gonna be ok little dove.”
He hurries to get cold water and a rag along with some crackers and soup. He dabs the sweat off the boy’s head before he places the rag on his head. He brings spoonfuls of soup to his lips. Anything to make his boy better again.
“It’s going to be alright. Dadza’s here.”, He parrots the silly nickname the boy always gave him. Why were tears in his eyes? It was just a fever. He would be ok..He would be ok.
He heaves breaths. His boy. His baby boy. He holds him close. When was the last time he had held him? His hands are wet, and he sputters and gasps when he sees the red there.
“Oh gods.”, He cries out. Where was that coming from? Oh. Doesn’t he remember? He killed him. He ran his sword through his baby boy. He looks down and sees soot and ash and burnt feathers and a pale face. The face of his son, now grown and old, but still his baby boy. And he killed him. There is so much blood. He remembers the ravings of his son as he hovered a hand over the button. He remembers the searing pain as explosions too his wing, mangled it into something unusable, but ah, his boy was safe in his arms. Until he drove himself onto Phil’s sword.
“Wilbur!”, He cries, sobs as he clutches onto the body. Wretched awful cries leave him. He heaves as he holds him close. No. No, he was alive now. This wasn’t happening anymore. The world was spinning, growing scalding. This must be an atonement for his sins. He wonders if She finally sent him to hell.
“Phil!”, A voice says but it’s quiet compared to his awful cries. He shudders and curls in on himself. He’s going to be sick. Was this what Wilbur went through? Was that why he looked so haunted? He must despise him for putting him in this awful place. Every inch of him knows he deserves his hate and more.
“Dad please!”, a hand jostles his shoulder. A wet gasp leaves him followed by ugly coughs. Something much too cold is on his head. He opens his eyes.
“Wilbur” His voice cracks. He sobs, hands reaching for his boy, his baby boy. He was alive. Wilbur stills in his weak arms before he sighs, arms wrapping around him. He feels his boy bury his face in his hair.
“I’m here. What’s with all this crying”, Wilbur mutters. It’s the softest he’s heard his voice in years. Phil cries more, head pounding and begging for his eyes to shut once more, but he can’t let sleep take him. He finally gets to see Wilbur alive, and breathing, and not despising him. He shudders in another gasping breath.
“I’m so sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry.”, He says. As if apologies would ever be enough.
“I know.”, Wilbur says. His voice was wavering, thick with tears. “I don’t know why. I don’t. You were a great dad. I was fucked up, and an adult far away. I don’t know why I…I just wanted you to make things better like you always had for me.”
“Wilbur-”
“And maybe that meant death to me back then.”
Phil forces his aching head to look up. He wipes away the tears on Wilbur’s face, his son leaning into his hand.
“Stay. Take a break. Anything you need here at the commune, I’ll make it happen for you. Just don’t leave like that again..please.”, Phil is almost begging. More tears fall from Wilbur’s eyes. He nods.
“Thank you.”, Phil says. The rush of relief that follows the agreement winds him. He struggles to keep his eyes open, the promise that his son will stay making it far too easy to finally rest, to sleep well.
“Goodnight Phil..”, Wilbur says as he falls into a dreamless sleep.
When Phil wakes again his head pounds. The memories of the promise warm him, but he frowns. They might have been a dream too. He feels silly for holding onto such a fleeting happiness. He shakes his head. He would apologize to Wilbur again when he sees him. He still had time to make things right, still had time..
He moves his aching limbs off the bed. He didn't feel hot anymore, but his mind still felt foggy, no doubt tired from fighting off whatever he had. He moved downstairs, Techno was there, a cup of tea in his hands as he glared at the table as if it offended him, deep in thought.
"Techno?" The Piglins head shoots up at that, practically knocking over his chair as he stands abruptly. His hands reach for Phil, arms wrapping around him and deep rumble going through him that makes Phil coo as he leans into that warmth, nuzzling his face against Techno's soft worn button up.
"Phil. You should still be resting. Was a nasty one, but your fever went down.", Techno says. His apparent worry makes Phil smile.
"Aw mate you know I'm fine. Please tell me you haven't been moping while I was sick. Have you been taking care of yourself?", Phil asks as he scans the Piglin.
"Yuup. Not like you should be asking that. Phil..you were passed out half buried in the snow. What were you thinking?", Techno says, with a stern look on his face. Phil winces.
"Not my best moment.", He says.
"Not at all old man.", Techno agrees. "And since I don't want to find you half dead again..sit down. And tell me what's on your mind that you're killing yourself over."
"Tech..", he begins to argue before he sighs, accepting his fate as Techno leads him to the living room where the fire is already crackling in its place. They sit on the plush sofa, Phil leaning his head on the man's shoulder as he struggles to find the right words to say.
"I..Wilbur is..He's-", Phil tries to choose his words. "I just want to be his dad again. Someone he trusts. He used to be so happy as a child. Sometimes he was glum, but I did my best to pick up his spirits, to give him everything he needed..but obviously somewhere I fucked up. Somewhere I made him..gods, I killed him. He has every right to just..to avoid me the way he does."
Once the first sentence comes it all bubbles up, tears in his eyes as his heart hurts at the admission of his guilt, his sins. Techno sighs, hands brushing his tears away.
"I know, angel. Hey. I was there when you raised the kid. You did your best. Wilbur is just..he just wasn't in the best mind set when he left home. Isn't now.", Techno tries to find the words. "Beating yourself up about this..it isn't good for you Phil. He's grown. You're still supportive. He needs to find what makes him..better, yknow? That's not something we can do for him."
"Mate.."
"Nope. Not letting you argue on this one. It's not your fault.", Techno says. Phil nods, heart not fully agreeing. He swallows.
"Did Wilbur..Did he visit while I was ill?", Phil asks. A pause.
"No."
"Oh..", Phil says. He tries to blink back tears, not show the way his heart is breaking. The dream had felt so real. The promise was so golden, the feeling of his child safe in his arms so healing. But it was a lie. Something he didn't deserve. The blood on his hands was still there. He shuts his eyes tight so the tears won't fall. "Sorry..Silly of me."
"It's ok..", Techno reassures, holding him tighter. Phil doesn't see the frown on his face from the angle.
Somewhere far away, a man lights a cigarette as he stares out into the sea, moving ever so slowly towards an empty home. He cries.