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It was the middle of the night when the knocking came at his door.
Builderman had still been awake, shuffling through parts and wires at his rickety little desk, just barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He spent most nights up late like this, tucked away in his room to fiddle and plan, and it wasn’t uncommon at all for him to end up with visitors at this hour. He liked to think that he was somebody all of the survivors could trust to talk to, and he’d always open his door for them.
“Come in,” he hummed, barely looking away from the pieces in his hand. He’d half expected a greeting or introduction, but other than the door creaking open he was greeted only with silence.
He glanced up.
In the middle of the doorframe stood Shedletsky—no, Telamon, he could tell just from the look in their eye—looking somewhat worse for wear. Their wings were fluffed out offensively yet hung low behind them, flight feathers dipping against the wooden boards and ruffled from dragging across the floor. Telamon simply stood there, silent yet looming heavy, staring right at Builderman.
Catching sight of Telamon was never a good sign, and neither was their silence or disheveled appearance. Telamon was always very particular about their feathers and often spread their wings to take up as much space as possible. Now, however, they seemed deflated, head bowed down and shoulders slouched, wings low as if just the weight of holding them up passively against their back had gotten to be too heavy.
“Telamon,” Builderman greeted, lips pressed into a firm frown. Telamon hardly stirred, simply stood there in place and stared. Their wings twitched at the sound of wood against wood as Builderman scraped his chair back to stand up, and he held his hands up apologetically. “Hey- hey, it’s okay,” he reassured them, pushing himself up to stand face to face with his friend, reaching out to brush a hand through ruffled feathers.
It was clear by now that Telamon didn’t feel like speaking at the moment, and Builderman was okay with that. He prodded them onto his bed so that he could close the door behind them and took a seat next to them.
It wasn’t often that he saw Telamon lately, and it was much less often that he saw Telamon like this, looking so defeated and docile. He couldn’t think of anything that had happened during the day to leave them like this, so it must have just been One of Those Days.
Builderman understood. He always understood. He’d known both Telamon and Shedletsky long enough to pick apart every little habit of theirs, from the way they formulate their sentences to just the way their shoulders and wings hung naturally; Shedletsky’s shoulders were always relaxed, his wings lazily folded behind him, and Telamon stood tall and rigid, shoulders stiff and pointed, wings half spread to soak up as much space in the room and possible, and to bask in the warmth when they were under the sun.
Now, though, despite it so clearly being Telamon in front of him (Builderman could tell from even more quirks he’d grown used it over the years, like the way their eyes dilated to make their gaze seem as dark as possible, to the lack of glasses—“Telamon doesn’t need glasses,” they’d always insisted, even though they did—to just the simple way they planted their feet on the ground, spread apart just enough to imitate a resting fighting stance), there was none of the gusto that they normally carried with them. They seemed more akin to a soggy, wet mouse than to the bird of prey predator they’d always likened themself to.
“Oh, Telamon,” Builderman half sighed to himself, combing his fingers through the other’s disgruntled feathers. He had heard no rain outside and yet they were damp, just barely, just enough that Builderman wondered if it was sweat soaked through them. Birds typically couldn’t sweat but Telamon still could, and their wings would often be moistened and useless after particularly active days that left them dripping sweat. It was a little gross feeling to run his fingers through, but Builderman didn’t mind. They had held each other at the edge of death together at least a dozen times, a little sweat was nothing he hadn’t dealt with.
Telamon cooed quietly at the affection. They’d let their eyes squeeze shut, wordlessly entrusting Builderman with their care and grooming, and Builderman obliged. He expertly guided his fingers through the rows of feathers, straightening out ones that were crooked and rubbing along ones that were particularly wet, just to wring some of the sweat out and get them oily again. He’d gently dig his nails into flaking pin feathers and brush off the keratin that came off beneath his touch, careful not to linger on quills that were still too warm and raw to unfurl. Telamon would flutter their wings at especially soft touches and Builderman would pet along the upper ridge of their wings in response.
It had taken many long years together for them to get comfortable enough for this. Telamon had been around a lot more often then, back when Shedletsky was only barely an emerging presence in the back of their mind and 1x wreaked havoc in their absence. The first time Builderman groomed them was after Telamon had lost miserably in a sword fight and left the heights with barely half their feathers intact, begrudgingly trudging to Builderman’s space to demand for assistance. Builderman had found it amusing then, the way they pouted like a child, stretching an injured wing out pointedly as if to tell him to hurry up.
His hands then had been clumsy and inexperienced, fumbling along the gaps in Telamon’s wings cluelessly and hardly knowing what to do when Telamon flinched away in pain at the wrong touch. There were hardly any avians in Robloxia back then—Telamon was the first of their kind—and Builderman wasn’t particularly an animal person, either, so he didn’t yet know where to touch and where not to, although Telamon would quickly correct him with a glare or by shrugging his hand off.
They hadn’t been lovers yet either, and Telamon hadn’t told him that preening was typically part of courting rituals until many moons later. Builderman wondered at times if that had been part of their plan, or if they had simply gotten desperate and needed the help. He always decided that he trusted Telamon enough with their secrets not to ask.
Now, though, they had been lovers for over a millennia and a half, and both Telamon and Shedletsky preferred his touch over grooming themselves, seeking him out whenever their feathers got tangled up or they simply wanted to feel his hands on them, even it meant being over-groomed at times and having to wait too long between grooming other times. Here, in this new purgatory they’d both found themselves in, it was often the former, and Shedletsky was resting on his bed with his wings outstretched about every other day. He hadn’t seen much of Telamon since they’d arrived here. The survivors here didn’t need Telamon, they needed Shedletsky’s courageous attitude and light hearted quips to help keep them grounded. Shedletsky needed his own time to be grounded, too, and that’s usually when Builderman found Telamon staring back at him instead.
Truthfully, Builderman loved them both equally, and he had loved 1x too before her presence got too much for their body to bear and they had watched 1x dig her way through their skin to crawl into her own body. Builderman still loved her, too, although not in the same way he loved Telamon and Shedletsky anymore. Rounds against her hurt. Shedletsky always said that it was okay, that 1x wasn’t part of him anymore, that Builderman didn’t have to feel remorse every time he watched her get beat down, but Shedletsky wouldn’t understand. Sometimes he acted like he understood, but Builderman could see in his eyes and the way that he spoke that he was lying. He could see it in the twitch of his eyebrows when he came back to himself and didn’t recognize immediately where he was. He always brushed it off as a wave of dizziness, but Builderman knew, and Shedletsky knew that he knew. Shedletsky didn’t ask about that, either. He trusted Builderman with his secrets the same that Builderman trusted them with theirs.
Loving Shedletsky and Telamon and 1x was never easy, but Builderman never once complained, and he would do it all again in an instant. They would never understand what it was like for Builderman to relearn and relove each and every part of them, nor how it felt to watch 1x tear its claws through them and leave a gaping hole where they’d once belonged, and that was okay with Builderman. As long as they accepted his love, that was enough.
Telamon always accepted his love without word.
Even when they were speaking there was never any thanks uttered, but the intent was evident in their actions. The way that Telamon now leaned back into him, their eyes closed blissfully, wings hung lazily in the air presented for Builderman to touch—Builderman could recognize their gratitude anywhere. They wouldn’t be here now in his bed if they didn’t appreciate his attention. Telamon was purring gently under his touch, nestled into his chest and half asleep.
Telamon had always seemed and acted less than human, at least compared to his all-human counterpart Shedletsky, but now it was incredibly apparent, although maybe not in the ways Builderman was used to. Telamon was childish and immature and ethereal and untouchable all together in one and right now they were none of those. There was no human thought or Godly ego evident in them right now, only quiet avian instinct. This wasn’t entirely new, Builderman had dealt with this a handful of times after they’d had an overwhelming week, but they’d never talked about it. He wasn’t even sure if Telamon was aware of where their mind went when they were like this.
He moved his hand to Telamon’s head and gently twisted his fingers through the strands of hair before finding a rhythm of slow petting. Telamon nuzzled into him at the touch and Builderman smiled.
“There, there, Telamon,” he half-whispered, shifting his other arm around to pull Telamon closer to him, who made a soft noise at all the movement. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”
Builderman had never once left them. There had been a few times where Telamon had attempted to spread their wings and fly away, and Builderman stayed standing right where he always had, waiting for the day that they would come back. To their credit, Telamon always did come back. They always found each other again, even when they’d been teleported here and thought they had lost each other forever, they still ended up in each other’s arms once again.
In the morning, he was sure, Telamon would be no more and Builderman would wake up to Shedletsky asleep in his bed, unaware of the events that led up to this but very, very aware of the love that Builderman had showed them. Shedletsky would smile sheepishly and offer a kiss on the lips, perhaps, and then he would ask if he thought breakfast was ready and they would walk down to the dining hall together to check.
Builderman would love him just the same as he loved Telamon now.