Chapter Text
Late summer was a beautiful time of year: the leaves on the trees were slowly turning yellow, the oppressive heat was giving way to moderate temperatures, and migratory birds filled the skies every now and then.
A cheerful chirping broke through the quiet of the town. Four feathered monsters sat at a table on the terrace adjacent to a tavern. Those who had lived in the area for a long time knew that once these vendors gathered here, they wouldn't stop until late at night. This irritated some, but most townsfolk had long since become infatuated with the unique charisma of these four. They were celebrities of sorts.
Elegant yet energetic, capable of captivating anyone with just a few words, the Addison brothers were practically an ideal to emulate. At least for Spamton. Oh, how he longed to have even a drop of their success, to be a true professional. But unfortunately, the only thing he was good at was falling flat on his face. Literally and figuratively.
"Sorry, I'm late!" Spamton blurted out breathlessly, tripping over his own feet and inevitably falling onto the stone road.
The Addisons, as one, turned around, eyebrows raised. However, only the blue-winged Jay showed any sign of concern, pressing his hand to his mouth and standing up nervously.
"Heavenly Angel! Spam, are you okay?" the older brother asked, helping him to his feet.
"You should be used to my clumsiness by now," Spamton coughed with an awkward smile.
Jay gave him a pained look and reluctantly let go of his arm.
"Don't say that," he muttered, brushing dust off his younger brother's clothes and then bending down to pick up a few envelopes that had flown out of the postman's bag.
He handed them to Spamton, who responded with a modest "thank you." It was a good thing there was no wind. His job was already in jeopardy enough without starting to lose mail.
"We thought you were fed up with us," Finch said, leaning one elbow on the table. "I already bet five gold coins you weren't coming," he added with a hint of mock disappointment.
Warber extended a clawed hand toward Finch, sporting the most satisfied expression imaginable. Rolling his eyes, the pink-feathered Addison produced the promised coins and placed them in his palm.
"Great, you're already betting on me," Spamton sighed with feigned displeasure, crossing his arms. "Now tomorrow you'll bet on how many times I deliver mail to the wrong address."
"Six gold coins that will happen at least twice!" Oriole chirped cheerfully, earning a flick from Finch.
This time, Spamton's indignation was almost genuine. Fluffing his feathers, he leaned forward.
"Okay, you asked for it."
"Ooo, what are you going to do, postman?" Oriole grinned playfully. "Wrap me in a box and ship me to another country?"
"You gave me the idea," the younger brother shrugged.
A matching grin appeared on his face, and Jay was already too late to stop them.
The two brothers tumbled off the terrace onto the road, orange and white feathers flying in all directions as passersby watched in amazement or scrambled to get out of the way. Spamton, fortunate in his strong legs, managed to pin Oriole's arm to the road with one, his claws scraping against the stones. However, his older brother refused to give in and managed to grab Spamton's nose with his other hand, cutting off his breathing. Panicking slightly, Spamton loosened his grip and the next second found himself underneath Oriole. It wasn't the most humiliating thing he'd ever experienced, but it was still unpleasant. A new surge of energy compelled the younger brother to punch the older one square in the stomach, causing him to cough and quickly rise to retreat.
"Rat-boy," Oriole chuckled hoarsely.
"Bitch," Spamton replied with a triumphant grin, catching his breath.
"Are you completely out of your minds?" Jay asked, slightly shocked by what he'd seen. Playful fights weren't uncommon between the brothers, but this was the first time either of them had allowed themselves to make such a show in public.
"Relax, we're just playing," Oriole chuckled, returning to the table.
Spamton was about to also say something, but he saw that the fight had once again scattered the mail. And this time, some of it could very well have gotten lost. The amusement immediately turned to panic, and the younger Addison jumped to his feet in a second.
"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, frantically gathering up the envelopes scattered everywhere. Why didn't he take off his bag before he started fighting?!
"I'll help!" Jay hastened to join in.
Spamton's playful mood and smile completely abandoned him, replaced by thoughts of his failures and worthlessness. Damn his clumsiness and forgetfulness! If he lost this job, he'd have no other options. Of course, he could ask his brothers for help, but he was already too dependent on them. They gave him a home, hope, and only thanks to them had he become a postman at all.
And then, in an instant, his thoughts were overwhelmed with doubt and fear. This happened often; Spamton was too insecure. And he believed he had every right to be.
He barely managed to return to reality when Jay handed him all the envelopes he could gather. Out of the corner of his eye, Spamton caught a glimpse of a letter, blown away by the wind, no longer able to catch it. He watched it for a long second before accepting the remaining letters from his brother's hands.
"I don't want to scold you," Jay said in his gentlest voice, clearly holding back his disappointment. "But could you be... a little less reckless?"
Spamton stared at the stack of letters in his hands, feeling like the biggest loser in the world. He nodded hesitantly, barely moving his head. "Sorry."
Oriole's expression also changed to one of guilt, and he spoke up: "Hey, it's my fault as the elder. I shouldn't have…"
"It's both your fault," Finch interrupted, leaning his elbows on the table. "Discourse closed."
For some reason, these words only made Spamton feel worse. He managed to find the strength to respond, so he took a deep breath and turned around.
"Where are you going?" Jay asked.
The postman shrugged wordlessly and began walking quickly away from the tavern. Behind him, he heard Jay trying to follow, but the other brothers stopped him. It was for the best.
Spamton quickly disappeared around the corner and sat down on a bench. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't describe how miserable he felt. It's just a letter, there was not much to worry about. But in the postman's eyes, it was a true tragedy, a mistake that could cost him his job.
He placed his face in his hands and let out a guttural growl, exhausted by himself. At times like these, he simply wished he were one of the migratory birds, flying far away from this town and this life. But even flying wasn't Spamton's strong suit, despite the fact that of all the Addisons, he seemed to have the strongest wings. He found this ironic, as his wings were too heavy for him, making flying a chore.
Gradually, the emotion in his chest began to subside, giving way to something calmer. The postman straightened and rose to his feet. He'd wanted to spend this break with his brothers, maybe even have a drink. Instead, he indulged in self-flagellation for thirty minutes, and didn't feel one bit better afterward. Drawing a heavy breath, Spamton headed for the next house where he needed to deliver mail.
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The day ended later than usual. By the time Spamton returned to the door of the Addisons' shared house, it was already dark outside. The stars above were almost completely obscured by heavy clouds, foreshadowing rain. The postman didn't like rain, but something urged him to stay outside a little longer. The cool night air always helped calm his nerves and clear his mind of unnecessary clutter. Taking a step back, Spamton turned around and went for one last walk before returning home.
The sleepy town had fallen almost completely silent, which the youngest Addison was eager to savor before the moment ended. Weaving through the neighborhoods, Spamton heard only the distant howl of the wind and the soft tap of his claws on the stone roads. His heart filled with a strange melancholy, evoked by everything that had happened earlier that day. Or more precisely, by the letter the postman had foolishly lost. Someone would miss a message from someone today, perhaps someone dear to them. Spamton blamed only himself, wanting to hope that there was nothing particularly important in that envelope, but his mind continued to predict the worst.
The moon was hidden behind a particularly large cloud, but the darkness was no obstacle. Spamton possessed excellent night vision, which, combined with his wings, set him apart from his older brothers. Of course, they weren't all related, but Finch, Jay, Warber, and Oriole shared many similar traits. The shape of their wings, the length of their legs, the vibrant coloring—all the Addisons shared these traits except Spamton. Everything about him was different: huge, fluffy legs with very sharp claws, wings too large for his short stature, and pure white feathers interspersed with black spots. Even his name stood out, though that was his own fault, since he'd chosen it himself (he liked Spamton a little more than his previous name, Owl). He felt like an outcast even in his own family, despite them trying so hard to make him happy, no matter what.
Stopping in an alley, the postman looked around, trying to remember where his feet had taken him while lost in his thoughts. Stone buildings towered on three sides, forming a dead end. If he hadn't come to his senses right then, he would have surely crashed into a wall. Oddly enough, this dead end didn't seem ominous to Spamton, as Jay would surely have thought. It felt more like... cozy? Maybe that's not quite the right word, but Spamton certainly felt something like that.
A low meow sounded from below, which instantly caught the postman's attention. Sitting next to his foot was a large, fat black cat. Addison swore he'd never seen a cat so fat!
"And what are you?" the postman chuckled, squatting down next to the animal.
The cat meowed again, its voice very deep, and this couldn't help but surprise Spamton. He reached out to pet the animal. It didn't react in any way, neither leaning in nor flinching. It simply continued to stare at the postman, its unblinking gaze as if piercing his soul. Spamton smiled nervously, but petted the cat anyway; its fur was smooth and wiry.
"Weirdo," Spamton whispered, observing how motionless the animal was. Its face was also unusual: from the side, you could almost see its smiling. The postman dismissed the thought, thinking he was simply tired.
Despite the cat's unusualness, Spamton felt a connection with it. Just as he himself stood out among the Addisons, this cat was different from all the other cats he'd ever seen.
"Can I just complain to you a little?" the postman asked, as if the cat could answer. "I feel like I'm lost in this life. In my head, I know things aren't so bad, that I have a roof over my head and I haven't lost my job yet... But I don't feel like I'm living."
Spamton sat down on the ground next to the animal and patted its ear, hoping to hear at least a purr. But the cat continued to watch him silently, not moving at all.
"Don't laugh, but I used to dream of singing on stage," Addison continued. "I wanted to travel, be famous, stand out. I mean, I still feel like I stand out, but in a bad way. I'm not like my family, and I don't really have any friends who share my interests. You know?"
The cat stared straight into Spamton's eyes for a long moment before slowly blinking. His eyes closed one by one, which made the postman tense and force him to withdraw his hand.
"I'm already talking to animals. Is this what loneliness does?" he chuckled nervously to himself.
Before he could rise from the ground, the cat suddenly touched his leg with its paw, as if asking for something. Or offering? The postman blinked in surprise and looked back at the animal. "What? Do you want something?"
The cat touched Spamton a couple more times, and Spamton involuntarily reached for the paw.
"Want to shake my hand?" the postman chuckled, gently squeezing the cat's paw as if greeting him.
At that moment, the cat let out a very loud purr. It could probably be heard a couple of meters away. It lasted for a few seconds, then the animal fell silent again. Spamton withdrew his hand, simultaneously fascinated by the cat's strangeness and slightly nervous about it.
"Okay, friend, you're even stranger than you look."
The animal tilted its head slightly, studying the postman's face. Immediately afterward, rain began to fall from the sky. Spamton let out a tired chirp and rose to its feet. It was time to get home before the downpour began.
"See you later. Probably," he said to the cat and began to walk out of the alley.
However, something made him turn around. The cat was sitting there, staring at Addison even more intently than before. Spamton hesitated for a second, then returned to scoop the cat up.
"Okay, fatso, I don't want you to get wet," he muttered.
The cat was heavy, but its almost perfectly round shape made it comfortable to hold. By the time Spamton reached the house, the rain had drenched them both. He slipped into the hallway, hoping he wouldn't wake anyone.
Creeping as quietly as possible to the second floor, he was about to open the door to his room if Jay hadn't interrupted him from the side.
"What the hell did you bring?" asked the older brother, looking at the cat in confusion.
"My friend," Spamton replied bluntly, quickly pushing the door sideways and disappearing into his bedroom without further explanation.
Younger Addison sat the cat down on the bed and quickly stripped off all his wet clothes, throwing them on top of the other dirty laundry he still couldn't get around to washing. Then he threw on a light tank top and pants and turned to the cat.
"Okay, the main rule is don't damage the furniture," Spamton commanded, to which the cat blinked, this time normally.
He didn't think the animal understood him, but talking to it was still pretty funny.
"I have the day off tomorrow, so luckily I'll have time to get everything you need. What do cats need? Food? You're probably hungry. Although, you wouldn't know it from your size."
Smiling silently at his own words, Spamton climbed into bed and wrapped himself in the blanket, his wet hair soaking the pillow. He didn't care; he was too tired to care. The cat, in turn, slowly moved onto Addison's chest, its heavy weight making it difficult to breathe properly.
"Okay, you don't sleep on me," Spamton muttered, removing the animal from himself and placing it next to him.
The cat didn't resist, and the postman closed his eyes, still feeling its intense gaze. It was strange, but for some unknown reason, he couldn't just leave this cat outside or force it to sleep on the floor. There was something comforting about it; it was as if Spamton were hugging a huge toy, only one that was alive and breathing. Something alive, he thought. That's exactly what he needed: something alive at his side. Something that could hear and see him. Something he could simply hug and fall asleep with.