Archive of Our Own

Purpled squinted at the afternoon sun in his eyes. Wind rustled through the wheat fields, whistling across the horizon of yellow that never quite ended. A bird flew overhead, casting a shadow on the ground. The early August heat made itself known in golden rays of heat that beat down on Purpled, his only real saving grace the large brimmed farmer’s hat on his head. 

It’s been nearly two years since Purpled moved to the country. Something about the stifling air of the city was suffocating, the way that the ever growing buildings peered down on Purpled, waiting. Anticipating. Expecting greatness and being scrutinized the gaze of everyone he’d ever met when he told them that he was “undetermined major”. 

He went from being the golden child who skipped three grades to unbelievably tired and overwhelmed with choices of what to study that he’d never had.

Then came Foolish.

Purpled didn’t know if it was really his name, but he’d asked Purpled to call him that when he first shook his hand at some random family reunion he’d been dragged to, the warmth of sun kissed skin and built calloused hands and the bright, kind smile making themselves known instantly. It was originally supposed to be an internship between his studies- for Purpled to work on the farm that Foolished owned. Somewhere during the second month of working there,  Purpled had accidentally let slip that the trip took nearly fifty minutes to go and come back every morning and Foolish had offered him a spare bedroom. 

“It’s no issue,” Foolish had insisted, gesturing to the ready made room at the edge of the small house. “No one ever uses it, and it gets lonely out here sometimes.”

So Purpled stayed.

Eventually he quit school entirely- sold his little flat and quit his minimum wage convenience store job when Foolish employed him full time instead of an internship three days a week. They became almost housemates, with the farmhouse being already paid off by Foolish’s great grandfather- generational wealth or something, Purpled wouldn’t know, he’d never really been in touch with his extended family- it became routine where Purpled just helped around instead of actually paying any bills. The farm was just… simpler. Easier to pick up, letting the horse out, collecting the chicken eggs, watering the rather large vegetable patch, feeding the couple of cows they had. Simpler than sitting through classes with a bouncing leg, watching the clock and waiting for it to end so he could get out and do something. 

But the thing that Purpled loved the most of it all was the air.

The air was clear. It was clean and fresh and unpolluted by nothing but the occasional car that traversed the road that stood a couple hundred meters away from the house. 

It was the best decision of his life. Foolish had his own apartment in the main town as well for his weekend daycare job, so Purpled was often left alone to take care of the farm himself. With someone there all year round instead of five days a week, the place bloomed as Purpled began planting a larger variety of plants and flowers and got actual live animals that he could keep throughout the day instead of Foolish having someone over once every morning. Foolish still did all the practical stuff- like collecting the extra produce and selling it at the farmer’s market a little ways off from their house, for one. It wasn’t like Foolish needed the extra money- again, generational wealth- but the alternative of it was to throw it, and Foolish had always said that he loved sharing the produce with the people he could, so they usually sold it or gave it away instead. 

One thing led to another and there Purpled was on a random Saturday in August, desperately trying to avoid the sun that beat down on him. 

He sighed, rolling the watering hose back up, turning the faucet closed and checking on the little barn that held a single, black horse that Foolish had proudly proclaimed as Midnight. It was frankly the most unoriginal name that Purpled had ever heard, but it wasn’t his horse, so he didn’t really care. Purpled had never learnt how to ride her, but one day probably he would. It wasn’t like he was on a timer.  He mixed the feed for Midnight and patted her on the head before going to check on the chicken coop. It was relatively hot in the little wooden house- he’d probably bring it up to Foolish later on. 

Purpled locked the coop up again, surrendering to the heat and heading back into the house. He took a shower the moment he could, relishing the cold water that chased away the summer sweat. 

The first thing he realized when he stepped out of the washroom was the sound of chickens clucking loudly, loud enough that Purpled could hear it through the walls of the house. He slipped on his boots with a towel still around his shoulders,  going to check on the chickens. 

The coop door was unlocked.

Purpled paused, the sound of the chickens screeching only getting louder by the second. He grabbed the pitchfork that was leaned up against the coop, holding onto it tight. Realistically, the chances of it being anything but an animal were low. But still. Purpled inched towards the door, mentally preparing to fight off… something. He counted to three under his breath, swinging the door open with his pitchfork at the ready.

Large blue eyes turned to stare back at him. 

It was a kid. He was small with chin-length curly hair stained with dirt and dust. His skin was pale and cheeks a blotchy red. And he was squatting near the floor, a chicken clutched in his hands. 

The child screamed.

Purpled slammed the coop door closed.

No way was this happening. No way was there a child in his chicken coop. How did he even get in there?

Slowly, Purpled opened the door again. The kid was still there, staring at him with those large, blue eyes and slitted irises. 

“Are you gonna scream again?” Purpled asked. The child stared. Just stared. “Do you talk?”

The kid opened his mouth again. Purpled prepared himself for the same ear-grating screech.

“Are you dumb?” the chicken-coop-kid said, his wings ruffling.

So he could talk.

“What are you doing in my chicken coop?” Purpled asked, slightly affronted. 

“What are you doing in your chicken coop?” the kid shot back. 

Purpled was gonna stab him with the pitchfork.

“It’s my chicken coop. And let go of Well, you’re scaring him.” 

He dropped the animal, and Well the chicken went running to the corner of the coop, shaking.

“That’s the dumbest chicken name I’ve ever heard.” 

Not that Purpled was one to agree with some random kid who had broken into his chicken coop, but he was right. Foolish had insisted on the name when their once existing well had had some… malfunctions. Most of them being that every time they put a bucket into it, it never came back. No matter how long the rope was, the well just kept on going.

Was it weird? Sure. But there were stranger things going on in that place anyways, and Foolish had already been looking into getting a waterline, so the well had been boarded up, and the newest chick had been named after it. 

The kid cleared his throat. It made a trilling noise.

“Who even are you?” Purpled asked again, not even surprised at this point. 

“I’m me.” the kid said plainly. His wings ruffled again. Purpled’s gaze fixated on them, intrigue and curiosity rising. Hybrids weren’t a common sight. Purpled had probably seen two or three in his life, and they stood out like sore thumbs. He wasn’t surprised that they didn’t live in the same huge cities that the rest of the population did, rather sticking to small, hybrid marked towns and communities where they were able to look as different as they did and still feel some semblance of normality. The chicken-coop-kid had small, long wings with a dark burnt orange cover and a more grayed tone on the insides. 

“What’s your name?” Purpled tried, and the hybrid tilted his head at him. 

“Tom-may.” He sounded out slowly, like he wasn’t used to saying it. “My name is Tommy.”  

Purpled nodded slowly. 

“Amazing. Can you get out of my chicken coop now?” Tommy made a noise at the back of his throat, going to reach out for another chicken.

“It’s my chicken. I found it.” 

“It’s really not.” Purpled deadpanned. “Get out, I’ve got soup on the stove, and I’ve got no plans to burn the house down.” 

Tommy perked up at that, a little trilling sound escaping his mouth. 

“Can I have some?” he asked, like he wasn’t sitting in Purpled’s chicken coop trying to steal one of his chickens. 

“You want my soup.” Purpled said slowly. Tommy nodded. 

“I mean I don’t love soup, I’d rather eat like- tomatoes or something, but it's that or the chicken, but I’m not a big chicken person because it makes me sick-” he started to prattle off and Purpled stared at him blankly. 

“I really don’t care,” Purpled interrupted. “But I’ve got tomatoes in the back, if it means you’ll leave my chickens alone.” He gestured to the greenhouse that stood next to the house. 

Tommy jumped up suddenly, startling Purpled as he instinctively went to grab the pitchfork that had been resting on the side of the wall. Tommy flinched and stepped back and Purpled immediately let go, stepping outside of the chicken coop to give him a little more space.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said, a little quieter. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He walked away from the door, hand up like a guilty criminal. “Will you get out now?”

Twenty minutes later, Purpled somehow found Tommy at his dinner table, swinging his legs because they didn’t quite reach the ground with a plate of cut up tomatoes in front of him. Seeing Tommy standing up was underwhelming really; he was five feet tall, at best. Purpled sat across from him, eating a soup he no longer really had the appetite for. 

“Where are you from?” Tommy asked, blinking at Purpled. His pupils had expanded when Purpled had offered him the tomato, nearly filling up his eyes completely and covering the blue. 

“Born and raised in Las Nevadas,” Purpled responded plainly, taking a sip of his soup. “But I’ve been here for nearly two years.” He gestured to the farm from the large window in the living room. “It’s not my place, but my friend lets me live here with him and I take care of the farm with him.” 

Tommy nodded, humming. It wasn’t really humming, more like a buzzing noise, but Purpled didn’t comment on it.

“I’m from Logstedshire,” he chirped back. Purpled had… never heard of Logstedshire. 

“Uh huh,” Purpled nodded, not at all knowing where it was. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I was migrating, but then….” Tommy trailed off, frowning. “Then they left.”

“Who?”

“My- flock.” He said, and all of a sudden his wings slumped. “My charm.” 

A charm. A flock of hummingbirds- some half-forgotten memory of Purpled’s older sister talking about some assignment she’d done on hummingbirds for a class. 

“You’re a hummingbird hybrid?” Purpled asked. Almost instantly Tommy bristled, his wings raising alive his head and pupils dilating into small lines again. His posture changed all too suddenly, from open and almost naive to closed off and defensive, hands balled in fists.

“What's it to you?”  He snarled. Purpled just raised his hands again, like taming a wild animal. “Nothing. You just mentioned a charm, and I thought-”

Tommy’s chair clattered against the ground as it fell backwards and he quite literally flew out of his seat, heading for the door.

“This was stupid, what was I thinking-” he muttered before snapping his head back to Purpled. “I’m leaving. Thanks for the tomatoes.” He said, voice cold. Purpled had barely made it out of the door to see the small receding figure of Tommy fly away imperceptibly fast. 

Purpled turned back into the house, numb, staring at the remains of what could’ve been a friend in a half-empty plate of tomatoes and a knocked over chair. 

For the next two days, Purpled spent a little more time at the end of day outside even in the blistering sun, looking for Tommy. He wasn’t really expecting him to come back, but he kept hoping that he’d get a glimpse of the hummingbird hybrid in the corner of his eye, those burnt orange wings or the huge blue eyes. Purpled had never been one to care about friends, really. At school and during all his extra curricular activities, he’d always just been focused on finishing what he’d been doing and getting out as soon as possible.

But Tommy? Tommy had been carefree. He’d been friendly and a bit stupid and impossibly naive. And more than that, Purpled found himself enjoying his company.

The first night after Tommy had run off, Purpled had left a small container of cherry tomatoes on the outside of his windowsill for Tommy to take, if he found them, as some kind of a make-shift peace offer. 

The next morning the container was empty save for one feather the same as Tommy’s had been, and Purpled took it as a sign of reluctant forgiveness. 

His evenings were spent scouring the internet trying to find any additional information on hybrids. How they worked, flocked, what part was instincts and what part was human and how they varied from person to person. Some stray Reddit post said something about hybrid traits also showing in personality and stature- it explained Tommy’s surprisingly small  height and buzzing personality, really. Not that the source was reliable. Not that the majority of his sources were reliable. Most of the research he’d been doing was on any social media he could find, from actual people that had hybrid friends or were hybrids themselves. 

Foolish had walked in on him more than once, a little furrow in his brow as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you glued to a screen like that since that ARG you got really invested in in January,” he joked with just the barest hint of concern. 

“Just doing some research,” Purpled responded, voice flat. “I’ll go to bed soon.”

There was a few seconds of silence and Purpled looked up. Foolish just stared at him. 

“Purpled it’s….it’s 6 AM.”

Purpled blinked. He looked at the clock next to him.

“Oh.”

“It’s fine, sleep in, I’ll take care of the morning chores for today,” Foolish offered, going to close the door again. “Try to get some sleep.”

“...Yeah.” Purpled said, rubbing his eyes. “Sure. Thanks, Foolish.” His housemate just sent him a sloppy salute, closing the door behind him. Purpled went back to staring at the computer screen. It felt harder to concentrate now, knowing what time it was. Knowing he’d just pawned off his responsibilities to Foolish. 

He sighed, shutting the lid and moving it to his nightstand. 

“I didn’t know you lived with someone else.” 

Purpled nearly screamed as he whipped around to face where the voice was coming from; his window. 

Tommy was there, hovering at the opening. 

“Why are you here?” Purpled hissed, shooting half a look towards the door before opening his window completely so Tommy could get in. “I thought you left.” 

“I mean… I did.” Tommy said a bit dumbly. “And then I came back.” 

“I thought I offended you.” Purpled admitted, looking at Tommy. “With guessing your hybrid type.” 

Tommy shrugged, his wings fluttering behind him. “You didn’t mean it. You gave me tomatoes.” he said, like it explained everything. 

Purpled nodded slowly, like he understood everything. He understood nothing.

“Why’d you come back?” Purpled asked, unable to curb his curiosity. Tommy’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away, mumbling something. 

“....tomatoes.”

“What?”

“They were really good tomatoes.”

“You came back for the tomatoes?”

Tommy looked utterly unapologetic as he bobbed his head up and down. “Yeah.” 

“Well- I mean, I can’t go get them right now.” Almost on cue, the sound of Foolish starting up the coffee machine  and the hum of the gas stove turning on were heard through the closed door. “Foolish is awake and I’m supposed to be asleep…” Purpled trailed off. Tommy’s wings had slumped, nearly brushing the floor. 

“Oh.” 

“If you come later on, I could give you straight from the greenhouse. There'll be some ripe ones left.” Tommy brightened instantly, wings beating fast enough to blur. Last time that Purpled had seen it, he’d been a tad too focused on the anguish and betrayal in Tommy’s eyes to actually appreciate it. But now? He watched as the little wings let Tommy hover a few inches off the floor, buzzing lightly in the air. It almost sounded like a fan, just… less electronic.  

“So later,” Tommy repeated. Purpled nodded. 

Was it a good idea? Probably not. 

Did Purpled have a better one? Also no. 

Tommy was about the crawl back out the window before Purpled called out-

“How old are you?”

He’d never really known- clearly, the height had been misleading with the way that Tommy’s face looked like a young teenager, but his height looked like that of an eleven year olds. Tommy looked back, grinning. 

“Seventeen.” 

…What?

As soon as he was there, he was gone, leaving Purpled with more questions than answers and a deep-rooted need for a nap.

“Hey Foolish?” 

Foolish looked up from the book he’d been reading on the couch. Purpled was in the process of heating up three day old pasta, stirring the little pot idly. “What’s your opinion on hybrids?” 

Foolish inhaled sharply, putting the book down. 

“I… don’t mind them. I think that they should get as many rights as everyone else.” Purpled stilled just slightly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“But?”

Foolish paused for a second, his fingers drumming against the cover of the book increasing faster before he responded. “But my mom was… more opinionated on it. Negatively. And I don’t not like them. I just…” He trailed off. “I swear I’m trying to change. It’s just that when you’ve been raised to hate them, getting rid of that prejudice is harder to do than say.” 

Foolish’s tapping stilled and he gave Purpled a tired smile.

Purpled shuffled through the cupboard to find a clean plate, mentally remembering to not tell Foolish about Tommy. He doubted that his housemate would actually mind- Foolish was the kind of guy to absolutely adore Tommy’s company with his loud, unfiltered remarks and bright personality, but still. 

“Makes sense,” Purpled responded finally, dumping the pasta into his bowl. 

“Any prompt for the question?”

And Purpled hesitated, just for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Nope. Just curious.”

Silence settled between them again as Foolish went back to his book and Purpled ate his lunch quietly.

“Tommy?” Purpled called out. 

No response.

Purpled had been waiting for him since he’d left the house, spending the day in the greenhouse and re-marking the paths around the rather large garden. He hadn’t seen Tommy at all, not a flash of burnt orange or golden curls or blue eyes that stared past his soul. 

Even as Purpled retired for the night after lingering outside the door a bit longer than usual, Tommy hadn’t showed. 

Just as Purpled went to lock the door, there was a knock on the other side. He nearly yanked it open, coming face to face with Tommy who was glowing with excitement.

“Where were you?” Purpled hissed, looking behind his shoulder in case the knock had lured Foolish out of his room. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Tommy just shrugged, bouncing on his heels, the same buzzing sound he’d made when he was excited permeating the evening air. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he went to grab Purpled’s wrist moving faster than Purpled could stop him. “I gotta show you something.” 

Purpled pulled his arm back, still holding onto the half-open door. 

“Now?”

“Yeah, now.” Tommy mocked him, taking a step forward like it’d lure Purpled out the door. Purpled just shook his head.

“I can’t. I told Foolish that I’d-”

“Purpled!” Foolish’s voice came from down the hallway and he winced, shoo-ing Tommy out the door. “Who are you talking to?” 

“Go.” Purpled hissed. “I’ll find you later. Don’t come back for the next three days.” Purpled closed the door on the stunned expression on Tommy's face. On cue, Foolish peeked through the doorway. 

“No one,” Purpled lied, locking the door. “It was just that stray cat that kept coming by.” Foolish perked up. 

“The orange one?” Purpled nodded. “We should try getting him to come into the house more often. He seems nice.” The teenager shrugged, stepping away from the door. 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Foolish just gave him a thumbs up and disappeared around the corner again. Purpled waited for another second before carefully- quietly- unlocking the door again and checking to make sure that Tommy was gone. An empty porch greeted him and Purpled let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

True to his word, Tommy didn’t show up for the next three days; Purpled had been waiting anxiously for Foolish to leave for the weekend, constantly looking around to make sure Tommy wasn’t there. It was a violent dichotomy to how he’d been looking for him the day before. 

The second that Foolish had disappeared from his line of sight, Purpled turned around to see Tommy buzzing excitedly less than a foot away. 

“Hi!” He said  eagerly. “Why were you waiting for Foolish to leave?” He said Foolish’s name strangely, like he wasn’t sure if it was right.

“No reason.” Purpled lied easily, brushing past Tommy towards the greenhouse. “C’mon.” Tommy followed, flying around Purpled’s walking figure and rambling on about the things he’d done for the last three days. 

“-And there were these rabbits that were chasing after each other, and obviously I chased them back because they looked at me weird and then they went down this rabbit hole to run away from me, which is stupid because I was clearly just playing-” Tommy made a little buzzing noise after that, frustrated. Purpled snorted, a small smile on his face. 

“Can’t believe those rabbits. Had the audacity to run away from the thing that’s like ten times their size,” Purpled deadpanned, playing along as Tommy nodded.

“And then when I stuck my hand into the rabbit hole with berries to get them out again, they bit me!” He screeched. 

“Deserved.” 

“You’re just as bad as the rabbits.” 

“Hey!”

Purpled just shook his head, pushing the door to the barn open. He opened the pen for the cows, letting them out into the closed grass enclosure. He and Foolish really only had a couple, but they were enough work on their own and occasionally made some extra milk that Foolish sold at the farmer’s market every other Tuesday. 

“What are those?” Tommy asked curiously, peering at the cows from a couple feet up into the air. 

“Cows,” Purpled said plainly. Not that Purpled had ever done anything but answer, but occasionally, Tommy asked a question that would’ve been glaringly obvious for any other person. Purpled didn’t really mind- the questions tended to lead to Tommy becoming absolutely overjoyed by the smallest thing. Last time, Purpled had shown him sunflowers and mentioned how they always face towards the sun during the day, Tommy had done a flip in the air and talked about them all day. 

“They look violent,” Tommy remarked, still staring at the cows from a healthy distance. The said violent cow, by the name of Walter, was currently chewing on grass, tail swishing back at forth lazily. 

Purpled just shook his head, going to pat Walter on the head. 

“They’re friendly. Come, try petting him.” He beckoned Tommy closer and Tommy shook his head, landing gently but not coming closer.

Purpled just shrugged, heading back into the barn. Tommy followed him, looking back every few seconds to make sure that the cows weren’t going to suddenly turn around from their lazy, slow moving grazing to attack him. 

Spoiler alert, they did not. 

The rest of the day went by quickly with Tommy’s company, the constant bantering and back and forth left a smile tugging at Purpled’s lips and his hands busy with the farmwork. 

“When are you done?” Tommy asked at some point, sitting on one of the support beams of the barn way above where Purpled was sweeping the floor, catching stray hay and tossing it out the farm door was blown open wide. 

“Are you in a hurry?” he asked back idly, and Tommy began kicking his feet back and forth, resting his chin on his palm with his elbow to his knee. 

“I mean, yeah. If you wanna catch it.” 

Purpled just hummed, leaning the broom against the wall. “Catch what?”

“The sunset!” Tommy chirped, brightening almost instantly. He flew down, wings a blur. It wasn’t the first time Purpled had seen it, far from it, but it was still impressive enough to blow him away every time. 

“The sun doesn’t set for another hour and a half Tommy,” Purpled responded, half amused as he stepped out of the barn, waiting for Tommy to follow him so he could close it. Purpled had had the sunset hours memorized for a year now, right after seeing his first real sunset in the fields. 

He had never really understood why artists always drew sunsets so vibrant; back in the city, the only sunsets that he’d ever seen were pink-coloured skies and the little rays from the sun spilling out form the sides of skyscrapers and tall buildings. 

And then he’d seen his first sunset, an actual one with a clear horizon and he finally understood why people always compared beauty to that of a setting sun. 

“Yeah, but for you it’ll take forever to get there. Cause y’know,” Tommy gestured to his wings and Purpled’s lack of them. Purpled stared at him flatly. 

“Anyways! Are you done?” Tommy asked again. He kind of sounded like an impatient child, to be honest. Purpled shrugged. He was mostly done anyway.

“Didn’t you want to get a tomato first?” He reminded the hybrid and Tommy made a buzzing noise again, nodding enthusiastically. Purpled laughed at how quick Tommy had been sidetracked, flying towards the greenhouse  enough that Purpled’s eyes could barely keep up. He paused at the door, still hovering. 

Turns out that Tommy had seen the tomatoes the first time he’d stumbled onto the farm and Purpled found him in his chicken coop. 

He just couldn’t figure out how the lock worked. 

Purpled opened the door- it was a simple lock mechanism really, just to stop animals from getting in instead of people- and Tommy flew in, laughing like a kid in a candy shop. It might as well have been really, as he zipped around, picking up every possible vaguely red tomato he could and piling them high in his arms. 

It took fifteen minutes for him to actually pause, biting into the first one he could fit into his mouth. It was a large beef tomato and Tommy bit into it like an apple, tomato juice dribbling down his fingers as his eyes tripled in size. Huge, rounded black irises looked back at Purpled, rendering his white scleras practically invisible. 

“This is the best day of my life,” he mumbled through the mouthful of tomato. Tommy looked back down at the pile of tomatoes in his arms. The majority of them had tumbled to the floor when he’d freed a hand to eat the vegetable. He looked back at Purpled expectantly. 

With a sigh, Purpled handed Tommy the basket next to the door. Tommy made a buzz of excitement, dumping what little was left in his arms into it and picking up the rest of them with one free hand and shoving the basket into Purpled’s arms. 

Tommy darted out of the door before looking back at Purpled, who hadn’t moved from where he’d been a second ago, still stunned by the sheer speed that Tommy zipped around. He’d barely acknowledged the tomatoes in his arms. 

“Come on, you’re so slow,” Tommy whined, grabbing Purpled’s elbow and basically dragging him out of the greenhouse. He barely had the chance to close the door, let alone lock it before Tommy began pushing him towards the other side of the house, away from the wheat fields and barn and towards the forest. 

Purpled…. had never really been to the forest. He’d never really felt the need to, apart from the mild curiosity that led him to wander a few minutes into it before finding his way back out again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the forest. It was just- stifling. It reminded him too much of the people and buildings peering down on him. Judging. Evaluating. Staring.

But somehow, as Tommy pulled him into the green landscape, it felt different. It felt warmer, kinder, like Tommy was showing Purpled all the smaller more forgiving part of the forest. He took the basket back at some point, chittering back to the birds that tweeted to him. Purpled just watched in awe as Tommy walked around the place completely at ease, shoulders relaxed and wings always slightly open. When he’d been on the farm, his wings had often been tucked against his back neatly. 

But here?

Here, they caught the fleeting sunlight that streamed through the canopy cover, turning his hair to gold and burnt orange to the color of clementines and sunstones.

Tommy beckoned Purpled back and forth through the foliage, not really in a straight line but all around the place. Tommy pointed out the monarch butterflies that flitted by and the mushrooms that grew from the tree barks. He crouched down to the little forget-me-nots that grew in every possible place on the ground, sprinkling the forest floor with blue. 

“These are my favorites,” Tommy proclaimed happily, picking one up and handing it to Purpled. Purpled took it gingerly, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world and Tommy beamed at him before taking off again. 

True to Tommy’s word, it took the better part of an hour before Tommy stopped abruptly, turning around to Purpled with a grin. 

“We’re here,” he whispered dramatically, pulling a branch back in true Disney fashion to reveal a green meadow of rolling grass, peppered with bright red poppies. It almost reminded Purpled of that story- the Wizard of Oz, he thinks, a distant memory of reading it for fourth grade English class. It was the only part that really stuck. Slowly, his eyes drifted to look at Tommy who was only staring back at him, a grin on his face and expectancy in his gaze.

And-

Purpled smiled.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, like speaking any louder would ruin the gentle serenity of the sound of the wind rushing through the long grass. Tommy nodded, his energy dimming just slightly but just as positive. 

“It’s my favorite place in the world.” Tommy responded, eyes squinting slightly as he looked towards the sun. “We’re right on time.” 

He pulled Purpled further away from the treeline, sitting down amongst the flowers and facing the sky painted in every color it could've been. Purpled put the basket down between them and sat down next to it, staring at the sky.

It was silent, as they watched the sun disappear.

Purpled had always hated the silence. He hated how pressing it was, between the pauses of awkward small talk and the stunned lack of words. 

But with Tommy, it was comfortable. It felt natural, like neither of them had to talk. Like the silence was words enough.

They waited until nearly all of the color had bled away from the sky, leaving a dark blue in its wake before Purpled broke the silence.

“I should head back.” he said, all too surprised to find regret in his voice. 

Tommy sighed, making no move to sit up. “Yeah. I guess you should.”

Purpled waited for another few seconds before finally standing up, holding a hand out for Tommy to grab. He took it silently, stretching as he got to his feet, his bones popping like firecrackers. Purpled squinted at the darkened treeline, looking back at Tommy.

“Are you coming?” he asked and Tommy’s faced got a lopsided smile, shaking his wings out. 

“Why? You miss me so soon?” he teased. Purpled snorted.

“No, its cause it's dark and I’ve got no clue where you took me.” he deadpanned. His sense of direction had always been awful, really. 

“You can say you miss me,” Tommy nodded solemnly, completely ignoring what Purpled had said. “It’s okay to admit that you can’t live without me, Purpled. I won’t judge.” 

“You literally brought me to the middle of nowhere-”

“-attachment issues aren’t healthy but we can work through this together-”

Purpled threw his hands up. 

“I’ll just get lost in the forest.” 

Tommy cackled.

“You’ve been awfully happy recently,” Foolish mentioned during dinner one day, smiling at the teenager. Purpled just shrugged, moving his food around on his plate a little more. 

“I guess,” he said flatly, pointedly ignoring the memories of Tommy constantly interrupting his daily routine with no regards to Purpled’s heart rate that spiked every time that the hummingbird hybrid showed up in any sort of proximity to Foolish. He hadn’t really explained why he didn’t want Foolish to see Tommy. It didn’t feel fair, to say that it was ‘for his own safety’ when it was just the prejudice towards hybrids that Foolish had had instilled in him for so long. 

Foolish just smiled at Purpled, taking another bite of his food. 

“It’s good. I don’t think I've ever seen you smile this much before,” he said and Purpled just looked down to try and not feel the heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he said instead, not really an answer but Foolish didn’t press, moving onto other topics. Purpled spent the rest of dinner imagining all the terrible ways that Foolish would react to Tommy. 

Maybe he’d hate him. Maybe he’d love him.

Somehow, the second one seemed more terrifying than the first.

Purpled awoke to banging on his window.

Blearily, he opened his eyes, pulling the curtain back to see Tommy there, bright and early.

Literally.

“It’s barely 5am,” Purpled rubbed the sleep away from his eyes with one hand and opened the window with the other. “What are you doing here?” 

“Good morning!” Tommy chirped, completely ignoring Purpled’s question. “You have to do your farm things quick today,” he lifted his hands to show his hands sporting a spare pair of gardening gloves. “I’ll even help you!” 

Purpled stared at him blankly. 

“And… what's this for, again?” he asked, unbelievably tired. Tommy had way too much energy for 5am in the morning, frankly. That was coming from someone who was a farmer. 

“It’s a surprise!” he chirped again. 

Purpled just sighed. 

True to his word, Tommy did help with Purpled daily activities. Not that he was particularly helpful, in between being absolutely petrified of the cows and simultaneously finding them the most adorable things ever, and generally having no experience whatsoever in farming apart from having been watching Purpled every weekend for two months.

It had been two months now, where Tommy visited him every Friday evening, Saturday, Sunday and kept him company throughout the day, taking him to new places that Purpled had never seen before. It was still strange to think about- that Tommy knew so much about Purpled’s home that he never knew himself. The forest only became kinder with every time that Tommy pulled him into it, talking about some new place he’d discovered. The path to the clearing of red poppies and tall grass became marked with flattened plants- as much as Purpled tried to avoid stepping them, there were just too many- and familiar sights. The large rock became known for Tommy’s rather awful attempt to ‘backflip off it’ which really just consisted of him twisting midair with his wings tucked close and nearly landing on his face. Purpled had laughed at it, receiving a face full of feathers in return. He regretted nothing. 

They were done fast enough with Tommy’s ‘less than helpful’ help and he wasted no time tugging him towards the forest, not even pausing for tomatoes. He’d been buzzing with excitement the entire way, stopping a considerable amount less for the little details of the forest, fixated on getting to wherever he was dragging Purpled to.

They veered away from the regular beaten path towards the poppy meadow, and Purpled’s curiosity perked up just slightly. 

“Where are we going?” Purpled asked again, and Tommy just wordlessly pulled him along faster before stopping abruptly. 

“Look up.” he grinned. Purpled looked up.

He was immediately underwhelmed.

“What am I looking for, again?” Purpled asked. He looked back at Tommy. Tommy made a little huffing noise, flying up and pointing at an unidentifiable brown glob of- something, far up in the tree. 

“I don’t know what that is!” Purpled shouted up at Tommy. 

“Fly up and see!” Tommy shouted back. 

Purpled squinted at him.

Tommy flew back down.

“I forgot.”

“Uh huh.”

“How are you gonna get up there?” Tommy asked, looking at Purpled like he held the answers. He did not. 

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Purpled reminded him. Tommy turned around, purposefully smacking the teenager in the face with his wing. Purpled threw him the middle finger. 

“Can’t you climb trees?” He asked after a second. Purpled looked back up at the tree, the lowest branch being a good three feet higher than Purpled could reach. 

“I mean if I could reach that first branch, probably.” He shrugged. “But-”

Suddenly, Tommy cupped his arms under Purpled’s, pulling him up like a misbehaving child by the armpits. Purpled didn’t scream- he really couldn’t, he was too terrified by Tommy picking him up with a scary amount of ease and flying him up to the brown shape that slowly became more and more distinctive. The second that Tommy dropped him, Purpled immediately sat down, his hands gripping the branch below him. 

“I thought you couldn’t pick me up,” Purpled whispered, his voice small. 

The drop was awfully long. 

Tommy, obviously not preoccupied by the sheer amount of distance between where they were and the air, just hummed happily. 

“I didn’t think I could either,” he chirped, his wings fluttering up and down without actually taking off. “But I could!” He spread his arms and wings out, gesturing to the place around them. For the first time since Tommy had deposited him in the tree, Purpled looked up. 

It took his breath away. 

The tree that Tommy had chosen was one of the tallest ones in the area, and it left a wide open view of endless golden fields in one direction and endless green ones in the other, separated by a thick band of dark green. The actual place was a mosaic of wooden planks, branches, and string that was threaded between everything to hold it together. 

Purpled looked at Tommy and Tommy looked back, his face splitting into a smile, radiating brighter than the sun. 

“Welcome to my nest.”

They spent hours at the top of the tree, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. It was peaceful, watching the sun turn the sky pink and the stars come out of hiding. The dark blue was littered with small pricks of white, and Tommy spent hours pointing them out, giving them names that were far from correct.

Purpled didn’t mind, though. He just listened as Tommy called Orion’s belt ‘Orbits purse’ and the North star the ‘West Sparkle’. Purpled offered his own knowledge, telling Tommy about the pleiades and their million different names in every language possible. He’d never been a huge space person, but something about 9th grade science had stuck amongst the throwaway facts of ‘on Saturn it rains diamonds’ and ‘On mercury, a year is 88 earth days’ the couple lessons of constellations stuck. 

“Centuries ago,” Purpled started quietly, the sound of crickets far below them barely audible, “They used to use the stars to guide them. Like a map.” 

Tommy stared at the sky with new reverence, his smile growing. Purpled shifted his head over to look at Tommy, eyes softening at the hybrid’s expression. 

“Y’know, no one ever really told me about them.” he admitted softly, waving to the night that stretched above them. “No one really cares about the stars in my charm.”

Purpled just sighed, readjusting slightly. Tommy's wing spread a little bit, just until it hit Purpled’s side. 

“I never really found them that remarkable,” he said. “In Las Nevadas, you’d be lucky if you saw more than three at a time with all the light pollution.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, a hum in his throat. 

It was a nice sound.

“But this place?” Purpled’s eyes drifted from constellation to constellation, each star somehow brighter than the last. “I could stay here forever.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said after a second. “I could stay here forever too.”

A star shot across the sky and Tommy gasped, pointing at it excitedly, grabbing Purpled’s arm. 

“Did you see that? It flew!” He said with ecstasy, eyes shining brighter than any star Purpled had ever seen. 

“Make a wish,” he prompted, a light laugh on his lips. “Don’t tell me, otherwise it won’t come true.” Tommy nodded, still buzzing with excitement and he shut his eyes tight.

Quietly, simultaneously, Purpled made his own wish.

And as Tommy looked back at him, pure mirth on his face shadowed only by the stars, he had a feeling it had already come true. 

Purpled hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep til his woke up, buzzing from his pocket interrupting the dead silence of the night. Blearily, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, a spike of concern shooting through him as he saw the notification of 26 unread messages and 7 missed calls from Foolish. He immediately picked up, hoping the best. 

“Purpled, oh my god, Purpled-” Foolish’s voice came from the other end, sounded nearly on the verge of tears. “Purpled you weren’t home I thought you were dead-”

“Foolish?” The teenager asked sort of dumbly, confusion clear on his face as he sat up. Next to him, Tommy stirred slightly. “Are you home?” 

“Yeah, and you aren’t. Where are you?” He asked frantically, the sound of keys being shook could be heard from the other side of the audio. Instantly, Purpled shook Tommy awake, putting a finger over his lips to signal quiet but putting his phone on speaker so Tommy could hear. 

“I- don’t worry, I’m coming right now. Why are you home so early?” He asked back, trying not to sound interrogative. The last time that Foolish had come back home early…. Well, that was the thing.

He never had.

“It’s my mom.” Foolish breathed out shakily. “She’s in the hospital.” 

Tommy’s eyes widened in understanding and he stood up, shaking his wings out to get ready to fly Purpled back down to the base of the tree.

Purpled just stared, stared at nothing at all.

“Okay.” he choked out, finally looking up at Tommy. Tommy nodded to him. “Okay. I’m coming now.” Foolish inhaled sharply, 

“Stay safe.” he said quietly, the abrupt sound of him hanging up echoing in the forest, sounding so incredibly wrong. 

Purpled looked at Tommy and tried not to shatter at the heartbroken expression on his face. 

“So you have to go?” He asked. 

Purpled nodded. “You can come by tomorrow again, if you’d like.” 

It felt crushing, as Tommy flew him down wordlessly, not answering his question. He looked at Tommy one last time. 

“See you later, then.” Purpled said quietly. Tommy just nodded again, his mouth opening but no words escaping. Just as Purpled went to turn around, Tommy took a step towards him, wrapping his arms and wings around the teenager and hugging him tightly. Purpled stood frozen, stunned at the sudden action. 

As soon as it came it left, and Tommy made a little sniffle noise, smiling sadly at Purpled from a few steps away. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He whispered. 

Purpled turned around.

Somehow, it felt like the end. 

Foolish would be gone for two weeks.

As much as he didn’t talk to his mother- he hadn’t for six years now, going no contact because of reasons Purpled didn’t know and never pushed to find out. He’d told Purpled the night that he came that he had some sort of obligation towards the woman who raised him, to take care of her during her stay and help her after she got out.

Because, Purpled realized, it was the type of person Foolish was.

Despite everything anyone had ever done to him, he always forgave people. 

Purpled had never had any sort of relationship to Foolish’s mom, and Foolish had insisted for him to stay on the farm to take care of the animals and plants while he was gone. 

“You’ll be okay for two weeks, right?” He’d asked at some point between tossing whatever clothes his hands could grab from his closet and into the singular luggage that was in the house. “I’ll even ask Sam to come over and check on you if you want-”

“I’ll be okay,” Purpled responded instantly. “Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

Foolish hesitated for a few seconds, looking at Purpled before nodding. “Okay. Okay,” he repeated, going back to shoving socks into whatever space he could find. “There should be a few hundreds in the key box if you need them for groceries, and if you need anything my phone is on.” He zipped up the luggage with a considerable amount of difficulty and Purpled pushed off the doorframe so Foolish would have space to get out. 

“Don’t worry about me, Foolish.” Purpled gave him a half salute. “Go take care of your mom.” 

Foolish just hummed anxiously under his breath, fingers tapping on every possible surface as he loaded the luggage into the back of his car. Just before he got into the driver's seat he paused, turning back to Purpled. 

“You’re a good kid,” he said, half rushed. “Take care of yourself.” Faster than Purpled could answer, Foolish got into the car and closed the door, starting the engine. 

Purpled stepped away from the vehicle, waving as Foolish drove away. 

He looked back at the forest, at where Tommy was. Purpled almost started walking towards it before convincing himself otherwise. It was nearly 5am now, the sun was going to come out soon anyways. Tommy would come around tomorrow morning.

So Purpled turned back towards the house, locking the door behind him and drifting asleep to the sound of nothing.

Tommy didn’t show.

The entire day, not when Purpled left tomatoes out, not when he took the cows to graze, not when the strange orange cat came back, meowing for food. 

Night fell, and Purpled spent the final sunlight hours on the porch, waiting for someone who never came. 

Eventually, he turned in for the night, leaving the container of cherry tomatoes on his windowsill as always. It wasn’t the first time that Tommy hadn’t shown up- he did so occasionally, either due to lack of attention or just forgetfulness to visit. 

But somewhere during the night, he always came for the cherry tomatoes.

Always.

So when Purpled woke up the next morning to the sight of the container untouched, fear shot through him like a bullet. 

He pulled the first hoodie he could find over the top of his head, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and immediately heading towards the forest to look for his friend. 

Branches grabbed at his arms and left scratches on his cheeks as Purpled ran through the trees, almost like nature himself was pulling him back. It wasn’t warm- no, this forest was violent, violent and uncanny and tugged at every part of Purpled’s clothing, trying to slow him down. He broke past the final covering of bushes, stumbling into the field. It looked normal- void of any human or living creature. The poppies sat there innocently under the clouded sky, just barely swaying in the wind. 

It felt like they were taunting him, taunting Purpled as his breaths got faster and his lungs didn’t inflate enough and he couldn’t breathe-

He stumbled back into the forest, blindly searching for Tommy’s nest again. It wasn’t too far off from the beaten path and Purpled kept his gaze up, looking for the familiar brown mass. His foot caught on a root once or twice but Purpled didn’t care, he couldn’t. Not with Tommy not taking the tomatoes. Not with the poppy field being empty.

“TOMMY!” Purpled shouted into the forest, desperation edging his voice. ”TOMMY!” 

The only response he received was birds flying away and wind rustling through the forest, echoing his words through the trees like a mockery. 

He found the nest eventually, not without scraped palms and dirtied jeans. The branch was still too high but he made it work, precariously using a fallen stick to jam it between another one near it like a slope.

He barely reached it, fingers nearly slipping but catching it right before he fell off. Silently, he had half a grateful mind to thank the farm for the hours of work and exercise it had made him do to be able to pull his body weight onto the branch. 

And then Purpled did it again.

And again.

He looked down once, nearly falling at how high he was. 

(Purpled never admitted it to himself, but he was terrified of heights. He was terrified of falling, of not being able to feel air in his lungs-)

He kept going, ignoring how his hands ached and muscles cramped. 

Purpled finally felt flat wood above him and nearly cried in relief, hauling himself onto the surface. He laid there for a second, trying to catch his breath. Adrenaline was still running through him, his fingers jittering.

And then there was a chirp.

Purpled whipped his head around fast enough to give him whiplash because he was there, Tommy was THERE-

Purpled felt his heart drop.

A sparrow titled his head at Purpled, chirping again before flying off and leaving nothing on Tommy’s nest but Purpled. 

All too suddenly, Purpled felt everything. He felt every bone in his body protesting, he felt the adrenaline sap away. He felt every sting and scrape from his knees and elbows and palms and cheeks.

He felt grief, crawling up his throat and tears beading at his eyes. 

Purpled felt loss.

The forest was cold again.

Everything felt dull without Tommy. Every time that Purpled went to the chicken coop, he felt a flicker of hope that the hummingbird hybrid was there and it was smothered out every time. He couldn’t walk past the cows without thinking of the first time one of them licked Tommy and he had screamed, so incredibly delighted and disgusted at the same time.

He couldn’t look at the orange cat without thinking of the orange of Tommy’s wings- he couldn’t eat honey without imagining how Tommy would’ve reacted to it.

Purpled had never realized how Tommy had blended into his life, into everything he loved until he was gone and Purpled was left to pick up the pieces. 

And there was something so irreversibly bitter about that- about thinking of the last night they’d spent together under the stars, naming stupid constellations and talking about whatever came to mind. 

Purpled couldn’t look at the stars anymore. 

(He still left tomatoes, on his windowsill. Like some kind of forgone hope that Tommy would come back. He never did.

The tomatoes were left to rot.)

Purpled visited the nest, one other time. When the night became too dark and stars too bright and dreams too real, he climbed out of his window and walked towards the forest, following the path he knew by heart. The place was imprinted in his mind, guided by nothing but starlight and memories.

When Purpled reached the tree, he looked up.

And his breath caught in his throat. 

Even from down where he was, Purpled could see the wear of the nest. He could see the sagging ropes and broken planks and overflowing leaves. He climbed up the branches, ignoring the ghost of the night after Tommy left, exhaling as he got to the top.

Nature had reclaimed it. Purpled could barely tell there was ever something there at all.

And somehow, that made Tommy’s departure all the more final.

Purpled thinks he hated poppies. 

Their red color ruined everything, the color of the couch cushions and the curtains and tomatoes. 

Purpled couldn’t eat a tomato without throwing up now, nothing but a sour aftertaste and abandoned friendships in his throat. 

He felt sick from the sunlight.

He refused to look at the forest, letting it grow cold again. He let himself forget the path to the clearing, let the flowers grow back where he’d walked through them. 

(He’d never admit it to himself, but under all that bitter resentment, Purpled missed Tommy. His missed his best friend. )

Foolish had noticed it, he’d obviously noticed it, with the sudden influx of tomatoes again and the permanent scowl on Purpled face. He tried asking about it once and Purpled had fixed him with such a death glare that he hadn’t asked again. 

HIs mother ended up being okay after everything, still being in recovery but well enough that she could take care of herself. Foolish had found Purpled curled on the couch the night he came back, staring at the black tv screen. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d made two mugs of hot chocolate and sat next to Purpled, turning on a movie. It was Moana- Purpled’s favorite. 

They’d both spent the evening in silence, sipping on cocoa and trying to forget their past. 

Two months had passed, early November turning to December and New Years parties. Foolish had, expectedly, been invited to far too many of them for Purpled to keep track of. He really only went to a couple, offering Purpled to be his plus one. Purpled had refused, so Foolish had gone alone and Purpled spent his New Years at the edge of the forest, the frost turning his cheeks pink and his fingertips numb. 

Purpled spent his winter inside, sheltered from the cold biting at every place it could and trying to forget the warm memories of August. 

Spring came around along with a promise of new flowers and budding plants. When Foolish and Purpled had gone seed shopping, Purpled picked up an entire tray of tomato starters.

“What for?” Foolish asked, not accusingly. Purpled shrugged. 

“It just feels like a tomato season.” He said. 

Somewhere between melting frost and warming weather, anger turned to longing turned to nostalgia. 

Tomatoes felt sweet all over again.

August 6th.

It was the day that Purpled had first found Tommy in the chicken coop, a day in any other August, in any other time that borders summer to fall. 

Purpled spent every hourly interval checking on the chickens, some small sliver of hope constantly overlooked by the reality of Tommy leaving and never looking back. 

The day went by slowly, the sun inching across the sky as Purpled brushed Midnight’s coat and took her for a ride. He did end up learning, at some point between spring and summer with Foolish’s gentle guidance. Lunch ended up being a plate of tomatoes with salt and pepper- for nostalgia’s sake, Purpled reasons with himself, as he filled the cat’s bowl with dry food. They’d finally managed to lure the orange tabby in during the colder months, and she’d been content to spend her hours lying in the winter sun from the insulated house.

(Purpled had named her Tomato.)

He took his place outside, sitting on the porch as he ate the tomatoes like orange slices. 

The sun was nice today. 

“Hey Purpled.”

The plate shattered to the ground.

“Tommy?”

The hummingbird hybrid stood in front of him, arms spread out for a hug, wings spread out wider, shining orange. 

Purpled had forgotten how beautiful they were in the sun. 

Distantly, he noticed the way that Tommy had gotten taller- just barely, but still- and his eyes seemed more tired, more weary with time. 

But Purpled didn’t care. All he saw was his friend, his friend he’d met and missed and wished would come back on a hundred shooting stars. 

And he was there. 

Purpled stumbled towards Tommy, ignoring the glass that fractured under his shoes.

“Tommy,” he whispered, because he was there, he was there and he was real. He stopped a foot away from him, staring.

Just staring.

Tommy stepped forward and wrapped Purpled in a hug, and for a second Purpled was back in that forest on that night, before Tommy left, before the trees turned cold and filled with malice. As soon as it was there it was gone, and Purpled hugged Tommy back, grip tight enough to crack a rib. 

And then he punched Tommy in the shoulder, hard enough to bruise. 

“Why would you do that?” He demanded, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “You just left! You didn’t even tell me!” He watched as Tommy’s face fell, and instantly,  all those months he’d spent re-enacting this scene in his head didn’t seem all that appealing.

“I- can we not?” Tommy asked quietly. Tired. “I’ll explain it later, I promise. Just- one day. One day, pretend like it's normal.” 

Purpled hesitated.

“Okay.” he said softly. “Okay.” Tommy smiled, but it seemed strained. But Purpled didn’t care. 

Purpled didn’t care, because Tommy was alive. He was alive and maybe everything would turn out okay. 

They spent the day doing everything and nothing at all. Purpled introduced Tommy to Tomato the cat- to both of their utter joy, Tommy absolutely loved the cat and Tomato loved playing with Tommy’s wings, meowing and demanding to be held. The hybrid finally gained the courage to actually pet a cow, loudly announcing that her name was Henry. Purpled didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a girl. 

It was like deja-vu, really, as Tommy buzzed around when Purpled watered the flower patch they’d planted to attract more bees. 

When Tommy thought Purpled wasn’t looking, he dropped the excitement like a heavy weight, his posture exhausted. Purpled saw it, he saw it in the corner of his eyes so he stopped looking. 

Because if he didn’t see it, then it didn’t happen. 

“Are we going to go see the poppies?” Tommy asked excitedly, pulling Purpled towards the forest edge. Purpled let himself laugh, he let himself smile and grin and shoot back snarky remarks at Tommy because he could. 

“Don’t you want to grab some tomatoes first?” He echoed the same words as a year ago, the same words that ran through his mind every time he thought of Tommy. 

(If Tommy’s smile dimmed just slightly at the suggestion, Purpled pretended like he hadn’t noticed. Tommy was fine. Everything was fine. )

“Sure.” he agreed, squinting his eyes at Purpled. They walked slowly towards the greenhouse, enjoying the sun and weather. Purpled unlocked the door but this time, Tommy’s feet stayed firmly on the ground as he went around picking up a considerably less amount of tomatoes than last year. 

“What, you’re not gonna bite into it like an apple?” Purpled joked and Tommy gasped, a hand to his chest falsy affronted. 

“I would never,” he sniffed. “You’re gaslighting me. A gaslighter you are. One would even call you a liar fluid.” 

Purpled blinked. 

“Get it? Because- lighter fluid, liar fluid, because gaslighting is lying-” Tommy explained, waving his arm that held the basket of tomatoes around.

“That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” Purpled deadpanned. Tommy threw a cherry tomato at his head. 

Purpled ducked, running towards the forest to get away from Tommy. The hybrid laughed, bright and vibrant, flying after Purpled. “You can’t run!” he shouted, barrelling into Purpled and knocking him to the floor. They tussled around for a bit, rolling around before giving up, lying on their backs with tomatoes splayed all around them. 

“That cloud kinda looks like a rabbit,” Tommy pointed out. Purpled snorted. 

“Like the ones you chased last year down the rabbit hole that bit you?” He reminded Tommy. The hybrid gaped at him, eyes wide. “You remembered that?”

“Your sheer idiocy?”

“No, all of it. Just… all the things I told you about. You remember them.” 

Slowly, Purpled nodded.

“Of course.”

“....Oh.” A small smile appeared on Tommy’s face. “That’s nice.”

They got up at some point, slowly picking their way through the forest. Tommy picked up every forget-me-not he could, putting them on top of the tomatoes they’d collected again. It took considerably longer for them to get to the meadow, with the way that they walked all around the place, only a vague direction to follow instead of a fixed path. Not that Purpled minded. He listened to Tommy talk about the flowers that littered the forest floor- baby breaths and alaska violets  and crimson columbine and dozens more Purpled couldn’t remember. He talked about them with an admiration that Purpled had never seen before for things so flimsy and killable. It left a smile on Purpled’s face as he found himself content to follow his friend idly.

They finally did make it to the meadow eventually, still a couple minutes early for the sunset. Tommy sat down, humming to himself as he started weaving the forget-me-nots into a circular shape. Purpled picked a poppy and rolled the stem idly between his fingers. Tommy paused when the sunset started, setting it down and laying on his back with Purpled. 

And then Tommy exhales, a little loud and forcefully all too suddenly,  it feels like the end. 

“I’m tired, Purpled.” Tommy said to the open air. 

Purpled didn’t breathe. 

He was terrified of what it meant if it did.

“Did you know that hummingbirds are a sign of someone making it safely to the other side? Of death, I mean.” He began, shifting so his wing was pressing against Purpled’s side. “Like a reassurance that they’re okay.”

Purpled just looked at Tommy, praying on everything holy and everything else that he wasn’t talking about what Purpled thought he was.

And then, Tommy looked at Purpled, and there was a morbid acceptance in his eyes. 

“I’m dying, Purpled.”

Silence.

Wind whistled through the grass.

Silence, then dread. 

Tommy handed Purpled the completed blue crown, placing it on his hair. 

“It’s so you’ll forget me not,” he smiled sadly.

The joke fell flat as Purpled’s throat closed up, hand going to touch it recently, like it had already disappeared.

“I wouldn’t forget you,” Purpled whispered, choking on his words. “I can’t.”

“You’ll learn to.” There was grief, in Tommy’s eyes. “Time will take my face and name, and all you’ll have left are blurry memories.” He moved the flower crown, readjusting it. 

The sunset faded away. 

A shooting star flashed across the sky. 

“Make a wish.” Purpled murmured softly. Tommy hummed, waiting for a second before turning to Purpled. The sound of shifting grass beneath his hair filled the air. 

“What did you wish for?” He asked quietly. Purpled shook his head.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” 

Tommy turned back to the sky. 

Purpled wished for a few more hours. 

Tommy made a move to stand up. Purpled reached out to his wing, tugging it lightly. 

“Stay.” he whispered. “Just for a few more minutes.”

Tommy hesitated.

“Okay.” he breathed out. “Okay.”

He laid back down.

Purpled drifted to sleep.

He dreamt of nothing at all.