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Ze would like to believe that, all things considered, he’s been a pretty average guy for a majority of his life. He’s gone through school, had a job, did stupid shit with friends on late nights of sneaking out— the usual, the typical. And that’s how it had been. His life had been as simple as the composition of a bag of potato chips, really. Those bags have, like… three ingredients tops, right?
The past few months, though, have turned that completely onto his head with an extra loud “fuck you” and a banana peel in his walkway. All because of one stupid, irritating entity that came crashing into his world, making it everyone’s problem. One stupid entity with one arm, one leg, and no head has flipped his entire existence upside down, in the most annoying ways possible.
He first spotted the entity a couple months back, peeking at him from behind a corner. He’s ashamed to admit that it had managed to scare the hell out of him at first, having managed to tug an embarrassingly high-pitched scream from Ze. It’d quickly ran away after that, ear-grating laughs fading off into the distance as it had disappeared into the forestline. He’d been left there in a stupor, staring at the entity’s retreating form.
After that small incident, he had begun to see it more and more. In caves, in the forest, even in his house, he’d spotted the entity peeking at him from corners and shadows, often enough that it started to annoy him more than it scared him. He’d talked to it for the first time a few weeks after their first… meeting.
To be specific, he’d yelled at it to not touch his stuff after it started messing with his guns. He’d gotten a really loud, annoyed groan in response that had immediately started an argument between the two of them.
The entity had managed to worm its way into his normal routine in just about two months time.
Ze had learned its name about five weeks in; Regect. And, immediately, he had started making fun of its name, as a man like him would. That interaction was the slow beginning of… whatever the hell their lives are now– living together in the same house with Moe, going on frankly insane adventures and excursions, and everything else that happens in his now weirdly active life.
The two, even now, bicker and fight constantly– they’ve done so since the second they met each other, destroying each other’s builds and getting each other into sticky situations practically every single day. Him and Regect always, without fail, manage to throw some of the most creative and stupid insults at each other. It’s… their normal, as much as Ze’s hesitant to admit that to himself. It’d feel weird for them not to bicker over every single thing they can possibly fight over.
Regect makes him mad constantly, but there’s something else that he can’t quite name when he thinks about their interactions. The entity, despite all of his shitty jokes and awful pranks that more often than not leave Ze with a new injury, still somehow manages to show what he can only call some sort of care for him. He’s often found the entity lingering for longer when hanging out with him– it’d been asking more questions, softening up at rare times, and their bickering had started to feel a lot more light-hearted than before in the past month or so post… hole incident, especially after his wings grew in.
Of course, they still fight. A lot. It’s what they know best, and it’d feel weird if they weren’t fighting each day over petty things. But… it’s seemed different at times, not the same as what they’ve typically done prior when fighting.
Ze still hasn’t really told it or Moe about what happened down there in the hole. They only saw how freaked out he was afterwards.
(He only knew that it wasn't Regect, he only got out, because it didn’t remember little facts about him, like his favorite movie. The avian only noticed the small things. He only noticed those tiny details that rang like sirens in his head when they began to stack up. He only realized when he heard Regect’s voice calling his name desperately from afar, not from the “Regect” in front of him.)
They only saw how he looked when he climbed out of that hole, when Regect found him stumbling out of that bedrock-lined hall. How unresponsive he was after days, weeks— hell, maybe even months— of being stuck down there. How paranoid he was at the sight of them, unsure if they were even real. Not even he knows how long he got stuck down there, or how long they had been looking for him. And, for some reason, seeing Ze like that had… really freaked Regect out. He could tell, despite how it tried to cover up how unnerved it got.
It had taken days, weeks, for Moe and Regect to even chip away at the avian’s paranoia and bridge over the chasm put between them and Ze, to reassure him that they were, in fact, real, while not even knowing what was going on in Ze’s head. He hadn’t been able to even speak for days, words stuck on his tongue as he worried that he was just stuck in the hole again, paranoid that his friends were just another illusion by those damn eyes.
Regect had been uncharacteristically patient throughout it all. Almost… fearful, even. Fearful of what? He doesn’t know. But the entity had been there to try and get through to him daily until he started speaking again, and had still stuck by his side even after he was beginning to finally talk again. Stubborn and relentless.
It’d gotten him food, water, blankets, pillows— you name it. Regect picked up on every single detail. It knew what freaked him out, what comforted him, what calmed him, what distracted him perfectly, everything. And it never used any of those facts against him in any way, for once in his life. He almost thought he was back in the hole because of how uncharacteristic it felt to him to see the entity act like that.
It was… weird. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about the entity’s behavior, the care that it’s been showing, and he definitely doesn’t know how to feel about the weird nervous feeling it leaves in his chest to think about it.
It’s safe to say that Regect’s presence gives Ze extremely conflicting feelings.
Their… could he even call it friendship, really? Is admittedly unstable, closer to frienemies, if anything. It’s always been that way— they bicker, they fight, they get along sometimes, they laugh at and with each other. That’s what works for them. Regardless, they’re stuck with each other almost every day. Him and Regect have to get along at least a little, for both their sakes and Moe’s, but it’s not uncommon for them to be found fighting— whether it be physical or verbal. It’s begun to feel like there’s… something more to it, now, than just petty bickering and hate. There feels like there’s something more to it as they get more touchy, closer with each other, safer with each other, softer with each other.
He pointedly avoids going further into that consideration for his own sanity.
…God damnit, man.
All of this musing has led to Ze’s current predicament— he can’t sleep for the life of him. For one, his mind won't shut up, no matter what he does, and secondly, he can’t get comfortable with the stupidly large wings that have made their home on his back, almost like parasites to him. It’s only been… what, three weeks since they first came in? And he’s still struggling to even just figure out how to sleep.
(The aches and pains in his back from when they ripped themselves from his skin still linger in his shoulder blades.)
His nerves feel strung up, taut and ready to snap as he stares at the ceiling. The avian doesn’t really know what’s got him like this— hell, nothing’s even happened today to explain or excuse his restlessness. All he knows is that he doesn’t like it.
Ze’s tried practically every method in the books available to him to get himself to drift off— he’s tried to keep his eyes closed, he’s tried hugging his pillow, he’s tried to listen to music, he’s tried to focus on the noises outside of the house him and the others share, he’s tried envisioning things in his head— everything. Nothing’s working for him. No matter how hard he tries to get himself to become tired, he can’t sleep.
A loud, exasperated groan leaves his throat as he tosses himself around one final time, a few feathers flying loose into the air around him with a small poof. Ze’s wings flutter with his increasing irritation, lying face down into his pillow hopelessly. His body aches a surprising amount— he hasn’t exactly been sleeping very comfortably lately, anyways, so he isn’t surprised.
Slamming his fist into the mattress in frustration after a minute or two of fruitless efforts to bring the blessing of sleep to him, he pushes himself upwards, hissing as a wave of dizziness hits him from the rapid change. Ze stubbornly refuses to wait for the feeling to wear off before throwing himself out of his bed, stumbling for a moment until planting his feet firmly into the ground. If he’s not gonna be able to get any sleep tonight, he might as well do something else with his time.
The wood creaks softly under his weight as he shifts, finally taking a second to wait for the lightheadedness to wear off before moving. As stubborn as he is, the last thing he wants to be doing is tumbling down the stairwell or anything else similar to that, given that the feeling is now pounding against his skull like a beating drum. It takes a few seconds, but, once the pulsing in his head fades into a dull throb, he begins to move again, floorboards softly crying with every step he takes. Treading carefully, Ze makes his way towards the door, hands gripping the doorknob gently and tugging it back as quietly as he’s able to.
He curses under his breath as the lights in the hallway blind him, eyes squinting instinctively. It feels like staring straight into the sun as a kid for fun, the glare of the bright light burning itself behind his eyelids and into his skull, settling itself there for when he eventually opens them once more.
Damn his roommates for never remembering to turn the hallway lights off.
The avian harshly rubs his eyes before pressing on in his excursion out of his room, stepping carefully through his doorway, attentive to where he’s stepping so as to avoid waking Regect or Moe— it’s probably, like, 2 in the morning at this point, and Ze really doesn’t want to have to explain to either of them why he’s still awake at this hour. He doesn’t exactly have an excuse prepared for that, yet.
He holds his breath with every single step he makes, flinching at every noise the floorboards make under his feet. Any wrong move could potentially wake up either of the other two in the house— although Moe is a heavy sleeper— and he isn’t going to take any chances with it.
Ze doesn’t relax until his socks hit the first step of the staircase, tensed muscles dropping in relief as the risk of noise lowers dramatically. He quietly makes his way down the staircase, his wings fluttering lightly as he swiftly moves to the first floor of the house. The smooth, slightly cold ground sends a small shiver up his spine as he picks up his pace, making a beeline for the kitchen to grab something to snack on.
In his defense, he’s been tossing and turning in his bed for hours. Sue him for being hungry right now.
He swings the cabinet open a little too eagerly, just barely stopping it from slamming into the door right next to it as he grabs out a bag of chips. The wooden door sends a small throb through his hand from the impact, but he doesn’t really care as he pulls down the bag, ripping it open and padding towards the couch with an excited chirp that he doesn’t quite manage to stifle. Ze’s eyes blink with underlying exhaustion as he plops himself down, taking a small handful out of the bag. He then sets the bag down in front of him, beginning to slowly eat the thin chips sitting in his palm.
It’s quiet after that other than the soft crunches of the potato chips in his hand, his eyes eventually drifting shut as he sinks into the couch. It’s a rare moment of relaxation for him, a peace that he doesn’t get to experience often— especially as of late. Ze can’t help but cherish the few minutes of calm, listening as crickets begin to chirp outside and mobs begin to wander around, guard falling slowly like a curtain. The chip bag lay untouched on the coffee table after a while, leaving Ze to rest his eyes in silence. Hell, maybe if he sat here long enough, he’d finally get some sleep; the cushions of the couch are soft enough to not leave his wings feeling squished, and his aching body is finally loosening up a bit, a quiet relief washing over his form.
Of course, though, because the world must have a personal vendetta against him, that peace doesn’t last much longer.
One moment, he’s sitting there peacefully. The next, two large, clawed hands are slamming down on his shoulders hard, pushing down on him slightly as his eyes fly open. Ze’s mind races, thoughts and possibilities flying through his head as to who could possibly be with him right now. His heart stutters as panic ripples through his body, whipping around to look behind him.
“Boo.”
The scream he lets out has to be one of the loudest he’s heard come from his own mouth, his body moving before he can even process who the pair of hands belongs to and sending an elbow straight into their gut. His wings also throw themself outwards as Ze leans forward, smacking them directly in the face. A pathetic, familiar, and dramatic whine sounds straight out of who he now recognizes is Regect as the entity folds over itself, pulling back to clutch at its stomach. The avian’s heart still pounds, but a breath of relief is pushed from his lungs at the realization that it’s simply just Regect, face morphing into an expression of annoyance.
“Jesus, man, don’t do that,” he huffs, turning fully to look down at the entity, who is now curled up on the floor. “Dramatic fuck.” The avian can’t help but let out an amused scoff at the sight of Regect’s dramatic display, leaning an arm on the back of the couch to meet its stubborn glare.
“WELL— YOU DIDN’T NEED TO ELBOW ME LIKE THAT!” it complains, eventually using an arm to push itself up into a sitting position. It grumbles to itself for a couple seconds, breaking eye contact as quickly as it was made, tail lashing back and forth in a similar nature to a cat in feigned annoyance. “I didn’t even do that much! Dumb baby…” Regect growls under its breath, rolling its eyes.
Ze’s wings puff up in irritation, staring incredulously at the entity in front of him. He pushes himself off of the couch, as much as his creaking limbs protest, coming fully around to the back of the couch as Regect speaks. “…I HAD MY EYES CLOSED! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE EVEN FUCKING HERE!” he retorts, voice raising slightly. It’s honestly impressive how Regect always manages to rile him up, intentionally or not.
“YOU’RE JUST SLOW, DICKWAD!”
“DON’T CALL ME SLOW! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO FORGETS IT HAS POWERS MOST OF THE TIME.” Regect blinks a couple times in shock at that, a brief silence washing over them as Ze’s words settle.
“...HOW IS THAT EVEN RELEVANT RIGHT NOW?”
“PROVES THAT YOU’RE SLOWER.”
“OH, GOD FORBID I FORGET SOMETIMES.”
“I REMIND YOU EVERY DAY, ASSHOLE!”
The two quickly descend into familiar, pointless bickering as the entity fully gets up off of the floor, which then turns into an entire scuffle as one of them throws a punch (neither are really sure who moved their fist first). As quickly as Regect stands up, it ends up on the floor again, dragging Ze down with it and resulting in them rolling around on the floor. Feathers and fur and whatever else fly around in the air in tandem, small drops of red and yellow blood mixing on the hardwood flooring, both shouting about nothing of particular importance by habit.
Ze sends his knee into Regect’s chest, teeth gritted as it retaliates with a hard shove. “FUCK YOU, DICKWAD!” he hisses out, soon gripping the entity firmly by the arm and throwing it to the side, rolling them over with a quiet wheeze.
“WELL FUCK YOU, ASSHAT.” Its breath is heavy as it stares for a moment, a line of golden shaded blood trickling from an unseeable mouth. Adrenaline pumps through Ze’s veins as he glares down, a few grayed feathers stuck in his scattered hair. Sweat drips down his face from exertion, yet he still doesn’t give up the petty bickering.
“YOU SUCK. I HATE YOU.”
“WELL—I HATE YOU MORE! GOD, YOU’RE INSUFFERABLE—“
A loud, frustrated honk cuts Regect off, both Ze and Regect’s heads swiveling around to look at the source of the noise. From the soft light of the upstairs hallway, Moe stands halfway down the stairs, peeking from around the railing with an unamused glare. Her brows are furrowed and her eyes hold underlying exhaustion, clearly having just woken up. The clown looks between the two on the ground, letting out an irritated groan at the blood, feathers and fur scattered around the floor from the two’s scuffle.
“Now look at what you did. You woke Moe up,” Ze scoffs, eyes narrowing at the entity. Regect stutters for a moment in disbelief, tail lashing back and forth again, akin to a pissed-off cat.
“No, YOU woke up Moe–”
Moe honks again, even louder this time as she firmly grips the railing of the stairs. The entity and the avian are shut up instantly at that, quickly scrambling away from each other, an embarrassed expression crossing Ze’s face as he pushes himself off of the ground. He stumbles slightly as his head slightly spins, before steadying himself with the couch. Regect gets up soon after, wiping a line of blood from his invisible face. Twin sheepish, guilty looks stare at Moe as she begins to honk again, very clearly scolding the two.
“...Yes Moe,” Ze huffs, rubbing the back of his head.
“Sorry for waking you, Moe…”
She lets out a few more honks before rolling her eyes at the two, pushing herself backwards and beginning her trek back up the staircase. The two listen silently as a door is opened, creaking against its wooden frame, before being shut with a slightly dramatic slam. An awkward nothingness hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the sigh that Ze breathes out as he moves to sit on the couch again. He grimaces as he accidentally smears a small line of red onto the cushion— he’ll have to scrub that in the morning. A few scratches leave him wincing as he stretches out a bit, adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving him to be slammed with exhaustion.
…He can feel Regect staring at him.
Ze’s eye twitches slightly in drowsy annoyance, leaning his head back to look up at the entity behind him. “...Sit your single asscheek down, baldy,” he mutters, motioning to the open space next to him. Ze doesn’t really understand why he’s offering for the entity to sit with him– maybe it’s because he’s sleep deprived, maybe he’s going insane, he’s not sure. But a part of him whispers flock, whispers that this is a member of his flock, whom he needs to keep close— a part that he can’t quite shove down right now.
Regect seems startled by the offer itself, visible eye widening slightly and right thumb brushing over the top of its left hand back and forth. Ze’s seen it do that a few times prior to now– he’s pretty sure it’s a nervous tic of the entity’s.
(He finds it a bit funny how awkward the entity gets when they aren’t bickering or physically fighting– a small part of him that he refuses to acknowledge further finds it endearing.)
The avian eventually lets his eyes drift shut, melting against the cushions in a similar fashion to earlier and letting his surroundings fade into a pleasant buzz. He almost forgets who’s even with him until the cushion next to him dips down, Regect carefully plopping itself down next to Ze as he cracks an eye open.
“I’m not bald, chicken wings,” it retorts playfully as it settles in its spot, nudging Ze with its elbow. He finds himself laughing at that, mindlessly scooting a little closer to Regect as he shoves it back a bit harder. There’s a subtle gentleness to the pushing, though, mindful of the wounds already painting each of their bodies with a subconsciously fond notion.
“Oh really? I bet your head shines.”
“I have long, luscious locks, fuck you!”
The two break into quiet giggling and laughter– their bickering feels… softer in nature, right now. It makes Ze’s stomach do weird flips that he once again chooses to ignore. He barely registers how close the two of them are until their shoulders brush together, wing stretching out behind Regect comfortably. The avian blames it on the lack of sleep– although, he’s not quite sure how true that is anymore. The entity’s hand snakes around to rest loosely on his waist, and it’s honestly embarrassing how quickly he relaxes into the touch.
The comfortable silence Ze had found earlier returns as their laughter dies down, shared amongst the two of them now instead of simply just one. Something in him relaxes at the company, the restlessness he’s had the past few days now giving way to a heavy exhaustion that settles deep in his bones. It washes over him like a tsunami, eyes drooping down as he fights the waves of sleep that hit him.
“Jesus, you look tired,” he hears the entity comment, a teasing lilt to its voice as Ze tries to sit up a bit, rubbing his eyes until he’s seeing colors behind his eyelids. The avian’s eyebrows furrow in stubborn protest, turning his head and squinting at Regect defiantly. He struggles to formulate a response, though, mind and mouth not quite connecting. “...Should probably get you to bed,” Regect eventually continues, nudging Ze gently and making a move to stand up, hand pulling away slowly.
His body moves before his thoughts can even catch up, and within mere seconds Ze’s clinging to the entity, wings curling around it instinctively. A faint wave of embarrassment washes over him, but it’s overpowered by the need to keep his flock member close, a warm, content feeling settling in his bones. “...Can’t sleep in there,” Ze grumbles under his breath as he buries his head in its shoulder, leaning his weight onto Regect. The silent plea of stay remains unspoken, but the entity seems to get the message, anyways.
He relaxes as Regect slowly sinks back into the cushions of the couch with a quiet, surprised laugh, an awkwardness to its movements as its hand returns to its place on his hip, squeezing twice in a way only him and Regect know. A discreet reassurance, just in case– calming any nerves or worries that he could have had before they can even make themselves known.
A quiet chirp escapes from deep in Ze’s throat as he gets comfortable, head feeling fuzzy with a need for sleep, melting into the entity’s side. “Okay… okay,” it eventually responds with a softer tone, and Ze can feel Regect leaning some weight against him as the seconds pass. It’s comforting— instincts slowly continuing to kick in as he curls closer to the entity.
The avian’s hands mindlessly begin to brush through Regect’s fur as they sit there, the slightly shaggy, coarse feeling keeping his mind calm. Faintly, he can hear the entity’s tail thumping against the couch, its head leaning against his. Ze doesn’t really know how much time passes with them like that, curled up against each other and in each other’s arms– but it’s enough time for him to begin feeling the entity’s right hand run gently through the black-tipped primaries of his wings. The contact elicits a loud coo from the avian, left wing fluttering slightly in bliss. His mind feels scattered, cloudy and unfocused.
The gentle rake of the entity’s claws through his feathers is a feeling that nothing will ever quite be able to replicate, numerous calls and chirps of content stringing from his vocal chords. From his place in the crook of Regect’s neck, he can hear the rumble of a purr in its chest, a consistent, rumbling vibration that beckons him closer to sleep, promising safety and comfort and security in the entity’s arms.
(The eyes could never get Regect quite right, no matter how hard they try.)
Regect’s presence right now feels like a thick, heavy blanket, a safe, grounding haven of their own complicated and fucked up and close relationship. He doesn’t know what to call them. He doesn’t know what they are to each other, what their interactions and closeness truly mean, but he doesn’t really think he wants to put a name to it, right now.
He doesn’t want what they do have right now to change or shift or disappear.
The avian wants to grip onto what they are right now with his hands like a thrumming, beating heart, to squeeze desperately to keep it still, to keep it the same, with new aspects to their bond simply adding on. He doesn’t want to lose their bickering or their fights or their scuffles to the sappy, mushy feelings in his chest. He’ll squeeze until it threatens to pop, he’ll grip until his hands are sore and raw, he’ll grip on and hang there until he’s no longer able to.
…Ze knows that they have a strong friendship, as much as he often hesitates to say so.
It’s scary to admit where his feelings lie. It’s scary to admit to himself what the fuzzy feeling in his already clouded body and mind is.
The biggest fear he has, even beyond the eyes, is losing Regect or Moe. Losing what he and Regect have, losing their unstable friendship built on hate and love all at the same time, would crush him more than anything else could ever manage.
He plays it tough, he plays the “I don’t care” card, he acts like it doesn’t matter to him. But it does. A lump forms in his throat at the thought of Regect or Moe going missing. His chest tightens up when a fight seems to get too serious between them. His hands get clammy when Regect seems genuinely upset because of him, when something he says is taken the wrong way, when Regect storms out for a few hours.
The avian pretends. He acts as if it doesn’t affect him, but he’d rather die than lose this, than lose the chaotic stability he has in this house.
He doesn’t care if it’s not what he had before this world. The normal life he lived seems boring now, anyways— he’d rather live with the unpredictable, rather thrive with the unpredictable, for the rest of his time alive.
A claw in his hair cuts his thought process off abruptly, another coo ripping from his throat as his brain practically turns to mush again. Ze leans into Regect’s right hand, its left hand rubbing gently up and down on his hip, a constant motion that helps to keep his mind quiet.
“I’ve gotcha, birdbrain,” he hears its voice rumble gently, that familiar teasing tone faintly present still despite how the moment seems. It’s the most reassuring thing that he thinks the entity could have ever said at this moment.
His arms curl tighter around the entity as his eyes slowly drift shut, comfortable and cozy and feeling coarse fur under his fingertips. He listens to the entity’s heartbeat, feels the rapid thumping against its ribcage, the nervous, heavy thrum of the organ that’s so very familiar to the avian. The way its heart beats fascinates him, and he can slowly feel his heartbeat sync with its own. The butterflies in his gut grow more active, more mobile as they both scoot as close as they can to each other, basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies. Regect, at some point, moves them to lay down more, on its back with Ze laying on top of it. Laying down only furthers the pleasant nothingness creeping up on him, body lax atop the entity, their arms wrapped around each other and their legs tangled together.
Ze can feel himself slipping slowly, but he doesn’t really mind, in Regect’s embrace. He doesn’t mind drifting off in the entity’s arms, sleeping here with his flockmate. His brain and his body feel heavy, but he can tell that this time it’s not a bad feeling.
Sleep envelopes and embraces him gently, beckoning him closer to nothingness. He doesn’t fight it as his exhaustion carries him under, hands stilling slowly as his body begins to go lax. Shutting down like a computer system, like a robot being shut off, lifted gently into the consuming hold of rest and dreams of what could be.
He doesn’t notice his mouth beginning to move, nor can he stop the words that slip out in his last few moments of consciousness, voice muffled and face hidden still in the crook of Regect’s neck as he speaks.
“…love y’u…”
The avian murmurs, mindless and raw and full of vulnerability. His voice slurs and quiets, a pleasant buzzing in his ears as the world around him fades. The words are purposeful, although not quite meant to come out yet. They hold meaning. They hold emotion. They hold truths that he has been unable to admit. And, as he succumbs to the realm of the restful, he swears that he feels Regect’s grip grow just a bit tighter at the two seemingly simple words. Protective and secure and desperate to hang onto the moment, to hang onto those words and burn them into memory.
Regect would be a fool to not follow in Ze’s footsteps soon after.
—
If they’re found by Moe in the morning and grilled with questions upon their waking, that’s none of anybody’s concern.
The avian can’t find it in himself to care. It’s the best sleep that Ze’s had in weeks.