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Ken staggered against the wall, his hand shooting out to grip something, anything, to keep himself from falling to the ground. A whimper slipped past his lips as he sank down against the ground.
A tear of frustration slipped out of the corner of his eye as he pressed his forehead against the cold concrete wall.
Why was he cursed with pink wings? Pa hated it, his classmates beat him up for it, even the girls hated him, jealous of the hue, and none of the teachers did anything about it.
It hurt so much -
Footsteps approached and Ken curled himself into a ball, trying to divert attention from himself. Not that it worked ever - pink was too eye-catching.
The footsteps stopped by his feet and Ken tensed for another beating. Few seconds passed by, and nothing happened.
Cautiously, he looked up to see a guy slightly older than him standing in front of him, staring at him. The outline of wings above the other guy's shoulders was missing, making Ken furrow his eyebrows in confusion.
Was the person Wingless, or just folded their wings away?
Ken internally shook his thoughts away and shifted his eyes into the other guy's face to see if the other guy was dangerous.
But what caught Ken’s attention when he looked, was the person’s lifeless and empty expression - an expression that he’d seen in the bathroom mirror on the sparse occasions he looked.
Ken flared his broken wings the best he could for intimidation, disguising the pain with a hiss.
“Whatchu looking at?" Ken growled.
The other guy blinked, his dull and empty eyes focusing on Ken’s with a quiet intensity.
Ken twitched, biting his lips out of pain and irritation. “What do you want?" Ken repeated. "Go away.”
The other guy didn’t move, merely shifting his eyes back onto Ken’s wings. Ken didn’t move, and neither did the other guy.
The other guy then spoke after a long silence.
“P-pink," the other guy uttered raspily, as if he hadn’t talked for weeks.
Ken narrowed his eyes, trying not to twitch his wings in irritation. “What about it?” Ken answered defensively .
The other guy dipped his head towards the ground, regret and grief showing on his partially shadowed face. A tear silently slipped down the other guy's cheek and onto the ground.
Ken leaned his head against the wall, resigned. This guy clearly had issues and would not leave him alone.
“What do you want,” Ken said flatly.
“I-” The other guy’s hands twitched before he slowly approached Ken.
Ken watched warily, startling and hissing as the other guy carefully picked up Ken, bridal style.
“The fuck are you doing?!" Ken squawked, then let out a pained cry when he involuntarily flapped his wings.
The other guy remained silent as Ken reflexively wrapped his arms around the other guy's neck, hiding his face into the other guy's neck as he breathed through the pain.
He must have zoned out, because the next thing he was aware of was being set down onto a chair. Ken looked around, seeing that he was in a bathroom.
“Where the fuck am I?" Ken watched as the other guy turned on the shower, not flinching as the water soaked his clothes. “Did you just kidnap me?"
The other guy tilted his head in acknowledgment and gestured to Ken to come, turning on the showerhead.
Ken wasn't sure what prompted him to stumble up, clutching the bathroom counter and cautiously approach the other guy.
Ken flinched as the other guy guided Ken deeper into the shower area with a hand on a shoulder and gently pressed him down to sit on the tilted floor. He startled as water fell onto one of his wings. “What-"
He fell silent and tensed as he felt as careful fingers carded the wet feathers. It was clear to Ken that the other guy was preening his wings for some reason, but why?
Also, people usually asked for permission before touching.
Preening others' wings were reserved for family, friends, and significant others. Ken was none of those.
Ken shivered, then squeezed his eyes shut in pain as his wings shivered along with him. To distract himself from the pain, Ken focused on the careful and meticulous touch of the other male, which conveyed a sense that Ken was fragile.
Usually, it would make Ken bristle, but Ken was tired. Tired of being an outcast both at home and at school. Tired of struggling to preen his wings himself as no one except his Mae offered to; and she offered less and less often recently as Pa grew more belligerent.
The nearby auntie who helped preen his wings when he passed by her house, passed away last year, just when things got worse at school.
(She’d said that his wings reminded her of her grandchild and she gave nice head pats. It made Ken feel warm when she clucked worriedly at his pulled out feathers.)
Classmates that offered to preen him, either pulled his feathers or broke the fragile hollow bones beneath.
…Maybe just this once, he’ll take a leap of faith at leaving himself to the mercy of this kidnapper guy.
Ken closed his eyes and melted against fingers continued to thoroughly mapped out every feather carefully, gently pressing against every joint for injuries.
The touch felt so…soothing and comforting, so very unlike everyone else…
---
He stared at the pink-winged bandaged person on his bed, his mind repeating over and over the feeling of soft and ragged feathers under his fingers.
He didn't know what possessed him to take this person home; to preen someone whose wings had the same shade as...him. Last time he put his hands on another...person, wasn't to preen them, but was to hurt them. And he was the only one to blame that his reckless actions left him, his heart gapingly empty-
He looked down at his hands, seeing that they were shaking. He breathed shakily, his fingers twitching unconsciously as his mind swirled like a silent tsunami at night.