Chapter Text
“Ow—”
Haumea’s body jerked, hissing quietly at the sharp pain coursing through his spine. He brought his hand to his back, rubbing gently as his fingers brushed against the soft feathers of his wings, reminding him of his painful yet ethereal illness.
Sigh.
He pulled his knees to his chest, his wings folding against his back, feathers rustling ever so silently. Then suddenly…
A knock on the door.
“Hello?” called from the other side. That voice was familiar—Makemake, maybe? The voice called again, “Mea? Are you in there?” Yup. That’s definitely him.
“Uh,” He quickly grabbed his jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders and fixing his posture. “Come- Come in!”
The doorknob twisted, light seeping into the dimly lit room as the door creaked open. The red haired briefly peeked his head in before stepping foot into Haumea’s bedroom. “Hi, Dear!”
Haumea cleared his throat, “H-Hey,” he muttered, fidgeting with his hair.
“You seem nervous,” Makemake stated, pushing his glasses up his nose. He sat down next to the ringed celestial, resting a hand on his knee. “Are you alright?” he asked, waiting for Haumea to meet his gaze. When he did, he noticed a strange glint in the other’s eyes that definitely wasn't there before, although he thought nothing of it.
“Oh, uh,” Haumea paused, glancing away awkwardly. “All good,” he lied. He must’ve been quite a good liar, Makemake seemed convinced.
Nodding understandingly, Makemake affectionately ruffled Haumea’s fluffy hair. “I made dinner,” he said, gently wrapping his fingers around Haumea’s wrist. “C’mon, you need to eat. You don’t wanna starve to death, do you?” he joked, eliciting an awkward chuckle from his partner’s lips.
Haumea rubbed the back of his head, a light pink hue painting his cheeks. “Hah… You’re right,” he replied. His head turned away, hiding his reddening face.
Makemake pushed to his feet, Haumea’s hand still in his grasp. He dragged him to the kitchen, sitting him down at the table. As he sat next to him, his eyes started scanning his face for any signs of distress. Suppose he wasn’t so slick, because he earned quite the confused stare.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Haumea, although he knew full well why.
Makemake’s eyes widened slightly as he looked away, giving Haumea space to breathe. “Nothing. You just seem tired, is all.”
Lightheartedly rolling his eyes, Haumea waved his hand dismissively. “I told you, I’m fine. Just, please, stop worrying about me.”
Minutes later, Haumea just sat there, staring at the unfinished plate of food before him.
“Haumea?” Makemake called, concern etched on his face. “You’ve barely eaten, is everything alright?”
Haumea’s eyes flickered between his boyfriend and the plate, his mouth never opening to answer the question. Shaking his head, he pushed the plate away with a trembling hand. “I don’t want it.”
“What? What do you mean you don’t want it?”
“I just don’t feel like eating it.”
“It’s pasta, though. I made it because I knew it was your favorite.”
“Well, I…”
He sighed. He knew that if he left the food unfinished, it would worry his beloved. But at the same time, the thought of eating anything made him nauseous.
“I don’t know.”
Makemake raised an eyebrow, but decided not to push further—After all, he wouldn’t want to make his partner uncomfortable. “That’s okay, I won’t force you to eat.”
Haumea nodded, his lips clenched together. He felt ashamed for hiding his… situation. But he didn’t want to be a burden! “Thanks.”
Makemake grabbed the plate, scraping the food into a plastic container which he then placed in the fridge. He looked back at Haumea, noticing his empty gaze. “Hey,” he started. “Wanna go watch something with me?”
“Mm…” Haumea hummed, his eyes never shifting. He was pulled out of his zoned-out state by a tap on the shoulder. “Wh—Huh?”
“Zoning out, huh?”
Haumea blushed and stammered, “Uh… Um, yeah—sorry, I just—”
“Hey, hey,” Makemake interrupted. “Calm down. It’s okay. Now, do you wanna watch a show with me or not?”
“Ye-… Yeah…!”
The two of them lay together on the couch, Haumea’s head resting on Makemake’s lap.
“So, what do you think of this show?” Makemake asked, but his question went unanswered. “Uh, hello? Are you listening to me?” Again, no response. He took a look at Haumea’s face—His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. Makemake let out a soft chuckle, turning his head back to the TV screen. Later, his eyelids fluttered shut.
The next morning, Haumea’s eyes opened slowly, the TV’s beaming glow leaving him like a deer in headlights. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at his boyfriend, staring at the crooked glasses and peaceful expression. “Heh,” he chuckled quietly, finding the sight endearing. He carefully lifted his head off his lap, stretching his arms. Mumbling nonsensical nothings to himself, he headed to his bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind him.
He stepped in front of the mirror, letting the jacket slip from his shoulders. His wings spread, slowly and unbearably. The feathers were soft, pure. They were pretty, but at the same time, so painful to look at. Gorgeous, uncomfortable and unsettling all at once.
The reflection in front of him was a pain to see.
And at that very moment, he felt gloom wash over his mind.
At that very moment, he felt like shattering the mirror right then and there.
At that very moment, he wanted to rip his wings out.
He despised everything about his body.
Everything.
Stars, it was hard to glance at the mirror for even a split second.
Letting out a shaky sigh, he stepped away and sat cross-legged on the floor, his back to the wall. He curled up on himself, wings wrapping around his fatigued form.
His mind pondered with thoughts. Thoughts that he wanted to tear from his head and forget all about, along with questions he wouldn’t want answers to.
His face contorted with discomfort as a sudden pain shot through his wings and back.
He exhaled wearily.
“Should I tell him?” he wondered.
Five seconds of silence.
“Maybe not.”