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It had become part of the routine to wake up in discomfort. His back had been aching for days before now. He’d lived with the dull ache in his upper back for about a week and it had never been a problem. Phil would fuss over him, offering pain killers and other aid when needed, and while the twins didn’t show it, behind closed doors he knew that Wilbur and Techno were concerned too
Tommy’d grown used to the ache that would throb in the the back of his mind as he went on with his day. It wasn’t the best - growing so used to the pain that he didn’t notice it - but that’s how it was. So when he woke up, barely being able to move, suffice to say he was in a bit of shock.
He blinked his eyes open. He was still in his bed this time at least, but he was still somehow swaddled by his blankets. His duvet was wrapped around him and his legs stuck out the end at an awkward angle. The room was encompassed in a warm-orange glow. Shit, he'd slept almost all day. So much for his day home alone.
Feeling returned to his body, and the first thing he noticed was the freezing cold, leaving goosebumps on his calves. As his mind started to clear, blinking away the sleep, Tommy attempted to sit up.
That was a mistake.
A jolt of pain shot through his back again. It was just like the day before, but somehow a million times worse. “Fucking hell-” He barely chocked out a curse as pain roared down his spine. He hadn’t been in this much pain in a while. Back when he was a kid, he’d sprained his wrist doing something - he couldn’t really remember but it didn’t matter - and then he thought that was unimaginably painful.
It was nothing compared to this.
The dull, back-of-the-mind ache he thought would be okay, quickly shifted to that of burning pain. As he sat up, a sharp twinge spread from between his shoulder blades to all throughout his back. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream his fucking lungs out but as he tried to stand, any noise he wanted to let out got caught in his throat. He needed to get to the bathroom; he needed to get more painkillers. Tommy didn’t even know how much they would do. They might not even work, but it was the only solution he could think of.
The pain in his back was like nothing he’d felt before. It was like a million sharp points clawing at his back from the inside. His muscles burned and felt cramped and tense. The world spun and his back throbbed. God it fucking hurt-
He couldn’t move, His brain was stopping him from standing. Sure it made sense, standing up would mean more pain. But he needed to get to the bathroom. His legs were shaking as they hung limply over the side of his bed. A small part of him thought that the second he stood, his legs would simply give way.
This is not good, this is not good, this-
Tommy gasped again as another spasm of pain shot through his spine. He was standing now. Baby steps. The world was blurry and everything felt slow. His eyes couldn’t focus, his brain too overwhelmed in comprehending the pain. Tommy wasn’t even sure if he could feel his back. He knew there was pain there, but it had gotten so strong it hadn’t even processed in his brain that he should be doubled over, screaming.
God, he wanted to scream.
But he was home alone, no one was gonna help him. No one was gonna get him to the bathroom. Tommy was a big man, and he could do it. He could do it. He cou-
He stumbled forward. His legs were numb and it felt like they were sinking into the ground with every step he took. With a shaking hand, he grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He hated to admit it, but Wilbur was right. He should have gotten help sooner, maybe he wouldn't be writing in pain right now. Maybe he wouldn’t have collapsed outside the bathroom door.
Wait-
Tommy was barely aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t even aware he’d made it to his bathroom. His legs must have given out at some point, because he was leaning against the doorframe, trying to stand. He got back to his feet, shaking, when another spasm occurred.
He felt his skin crawl as he supported himself on the doorframe. Pain words couldn’t describe flowed through him. His eyes went clouded as a high-pitched ringing noise sounded in his ear. Tommy let out another involuntary scream. His throat felt raw and scratchy and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. His head pounded and he could feel his pulse throb throughout his entire body. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as the muscles in his back seized up. The skin around his shoulder blades felt tight and raw and every nerve in his back was on fire.
He managed to push himself off the doorframe, his whole body feeling heavy, and he stumbled over to the sink. His fingers clenched around the edge of the sink until his knuckles were white and his fingertips were numb. He was shaking - from the cold or from shock, he didn’t know. Looking up to the mirror, he saw just how pale he was. His face was shiny from sweat and his eyes were sunken and dark.
His entire body felt weak. Every inch of skin either felt burning hot or freezing. The world around him was so cold, but he felt like he was on fire.
Suddenly, his body convulsed forward as another shock ran through his back. Tommy let out a choked gasp as he felt his legs give out. Everything felt slow and blurry and it took him a minute to process the fact he was on the ground. His tailbone burned with the pain of falling onto the tiled floor. The cold of the tiles runs through his hands.
How pathetic. He was lying on the floor, shaking from the cold, and in the worst pain of his life. His head felt heavy and he could barely focus his eyes. He was suddenly aware of the pain in his back again. Arching his back, he felt like his shoulder blades were just going to rip through his skin. His muscles stretched and cramped. Another scream left his mouth. His throat felt raw and dry as the scream scratched at the back of his mouth. Outstretched arms supported him and he stared down at the floor.
He was trembling. Everywhere. He had no clue when his arms would give out and he’d end up faceplating into the ground. His vision grew cloudy and he saw wet spots of tears on the tiles. God, now he was crying.
He was taken out of the moment when he felt a buzzing in his pocket. His phone. He knew it was ringing, but he didn’t have the energy to move. The phone kept ringing, never being answered. He was trapped, standing on his hands and knees, as he cried. Pain seared through his back again and again. He wanted it to stop. Why wouldn’t it stop?
Stop, stop, stop. Stop. STOP, STO-
He screamed. It felt like his skin was ripping open. He was blinded by pain and his ears were ringing. On his hands, he felt what he could only guess were more tears falling onto his skin. No.. Tears weren’t usually this warm. And why was the back of his shirt damp?
Oh.
He was bleeding.
That’s not good.
Why was there blood?
How was there blood?
He was aware he was crying now. Blood soaking into his shirt as he trembled. His cheeks were hot, and wet with tears. The pain in his back continued, as if someone had held a knife to the skin and sliced between his shoulders. Gasping for breath, he arched his back more, leaning on his full forearm instead of just his palms now. He clawed at the grout between the tiles, desperate for something to ground him, to distract him from the tearing of his skin from the inside.
He wanted it all to be over. He wanted to be free. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to go back to normal. He wanted to be on call with all his friends. He wanted to stream. He wanted so many things that he didn’t have.
Tommy was pulled out of his desperation as he felt his back rip open. He was overcome by blinding pain. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t think. He could only feel overwhelming pain shoot through his spine and into his shoulder blades.
In a moment of blind thinking, Tommy ripped off his shirt. It was the only way of getting free he could think of. As he tugged it over his head, he felt the warm, damp fabric brush past his neck and over his ears. Without a shirt on, the freezing cold of the bathroom drowned him. He let out another trembled gasp. The cold ran across his now bare back, and inside it . Even behind the overwhelming pain, he could feel the cold seep into his muscles.
Something was moving.
He felt it, clear as day. Over all the pain and cold he felt, he could feel as something inside his back shifted. It wasn’t the muscles - they were all still tense and cramped. No.. something was there . His brain was rushing with thoughts, yet none could be put into words. Only the pounding feeling of panic he was feeling.
The last thing he felt was an erupting pain as it shot out of his back, before promptly passing out from the combined stress and agony he’d endured.
----
Waking up after blacking out was not what he was expecting. It wasn’t like waking up from sleeping or taking a nap. The world spun as he blinked his eyes open. It was slow. He felt disoriented and dazed. No thoughts ran through his mind as he returned to consciousness. It felt like he was swimming underwater, like the world around him was slow and dreamy. He felt nauseous and yet no bile or acid rested in his throat.
Thinking back, this was probably his first time passing out fully. Sure, sometimes he’d black out or feel light headed, but he’d never collapsed and gone unconscious. And boy, was it an experience. It took him a minute to even comprehend his surroundings. His eyes opened and looked at the tiled floor of the bathroom. The bathroom?
Why was he in the bathroom?
Oh.
His back.
His back?
After a few seconds he realised that the burning wound in his back... Wasn’t burning anymore? Feeling came back into his arms and the icy twinge of the tiles seeped back in. With a gasp, he attempted to push himself up to a position where he could sit comfortably. As his arms outstretched, he suddenly fell forwards. There was an uncomfortable weight weighing him down.
He attempted again when his hand brushed past a pool of blood on the ground. He shivered. Now that he was sitting up, he looked around the bathroom. It was a small room, only fitting a basin and a bath-shower combo, and barely fitting him in there too. The only thing different about the room was the concerning amount of blood on the floor. It pooled together and flowed in the gaps between the tiles. And it wasn’t an understatement when he said it was a concerning amount of blood.
Now, Tommy didn’t know much about blood, but he knew that if you lost more than about 30%, you would fucking die. And sure, this didn’t look like 30%, but it looked like a lot, and he felt like he was fucking dying.
Next to him, his previously red and white shirt was now a dark red-brown colour, lying on the floor in a small pool of blood. Fucking gross. Wait, shirt? Oh. His mind flashed back to before he passed out. Pain. That’s the thing he remembered most. He’d ripped off his shirt in blind desperation and cast it aside on the floor as.. As something moved in his back . Tommy’s heart stopped for a moment.
Something had moved in his back . He remembered now. A wave of fear suddenly overcame him. “What the fuck-” His voice was hourse and scratchy, and it cracked quite a bit. Who knew screaming your lungs out fucked up your voice? Now that most of the feeling in his body had returned and the world had stopped spinning, Tommy attempted to sit up. He carefully placed his hand on a tile that wasn’t covered in blood and pushed himself up.
Before he properly sat up, his arms faltered slightly. Maybe it was just his arms being weak after passing out, but it felt 10 times harder to push himself up, like his body was heavier. He was sitting now, his legs sprawled to the side, and he straightened his back. His back. The back that just magically stopped burning in pain, and only slightly sore. It was only when he lifted his arms to stretch that he noticed something wrong.
As his arms straightened, his shoulder blades jutted out and brushed past something soft. Tommy stiffened. He wasn’t against the wall and he didn’t remember anything being behind him. He stretched his shoulders again and froze as he felt something else stretch. Muscles the shouldn’t be there tensed. His eyes widened and he quickly whipped his head to look behind him.
What
The
Actual
FUCK ?
As he craned his neck back, his eyes locked on a large, red shape behind him. He strained his eyes to focus. He could feel them; not like it was touching him, like it was him . As if it were any other limb in his body. And just like any other limb on his body, he could move it. Tommy blinked his eyes to focus on the shape as he forced it to move out. No, not it.. Them. They stretched out and straightened, and only then did it click in his mind what they were.
Two, small, red wings . Fucking wings .
The reason he’d been in pain for the last week, the reason why he’d screamed his lungs out and cried, the reason he’d passed out on his bathroom floor, was because he grew fucking wings. His brain could barely process how, let alone why. His neck ached as he stretched back to see them. All he could see at this angle was the shape of small red wings. Feathers dappled with black and small hints of light blue. And he meant it when he said they were small. Even cramped on the floor of the bathroom, he could fully extend the new limbs. The wingspan wasn’t much longer than the span of elbow to elbow.
Now, Tommy didn’t know much about human anatomy, but he knew enough to know that wings don’t normally rip out from inside your back.
“What the fuck.” Tommy let out a laugh. He was delirious. He was on the bathroom floor, covered in blood, suddenly growing wings, laughing . Running a hand through his messy hair, he reached out his arm to the towel rack as support. He stood with shaky legs and stumbled over to the mirror. Stepping over the blood, blue eyes met in the reflection of the mirror. “I’m actually going insane,” he murmured to himself.
His face was wet and shiny with sweat and tears. Goosebumps lined his arms, and dried blood laced his hands. He now got a better view of the wings. Long, red-brown feathers stretched out of the top. Smaller, light blue and black feathers lined the bottom of the small wings. The feathers looked rough and out of place, some having a dull shine and others looking dry. The colours were so bright and vibrant compared to the rest of him. He looked like a parrot.
Was he a parrot?
No, he was human, not a parrot.
But he had wings..
But parrots are little bitches and Tommy wasn’t a little bitch.
So yeah, not a parrot.
Tommy laughed again; he really was going insane. He’d suddenly - and painfully - just sprouted wings and bled all over the bathroom. A dull ache still laced his back, and the base of the wings were them and his back met stung. The weirdest part was that he could feel the wings. It wasn’t like they were just attached to his back, they were a part of it. He could feel the cold seep into the fluff of the newly grown feathers. He could feel the stretch and pull of the muscles as he moved them. He could hear the click of bone as the wings got used to moving after being trapped in his back for who knows how long.
He was in shock, at least, he thought he was. His breathing sounded pretty normal, but his brain was going a million miles an hour and he was shaking slightly.
“Calm down, Big Man,” he tried to reassure himself. “You’re just a bird man now, I guess.” He shivered as a draft blew through the open door of the bathroom. “Okay, step one, get a clean shirt cause I ain’t putting on that one,” he looked at the crumpled up shirt on the floor. “Wait-” He faltered. Shirt. How the fuck was he supposed to put a shirt on over wings ? He couldn’t just pull it over his head, cause they wouldn’t fit under it.. Was he supposed to just rip holes in the back of all his shirts? They were nice shirts, he didn’t want to rip holes in them.
Not to mention the blood. He’d have to clean it up soon, preferably before it all dried up. But frankly, he was way too tired to do anything, let alone clean. “That’s a problem for future me, then,” he said, brushing away the hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Okay then-”
“Sorry, kid. I tried calling before but you didn’t answer so I just got your usua-” A bag clattered to the floor. Tommy looked up in horror as a dark shadow fell over him. Technoblade stood in the doorway, a bag of takeout at his feet.
Oh he was so fucked .