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Ze sat cross-legged on the floor, the wood beneath him creaking slightly. Regect was sat behind him on Ze’s bed, his legs on each side of the avian. Regect quietly lifted one of the small wings. It barely weighed anything in his hand. Below him, Ze was tense, quiet. His shoulders high, jaw tight, fingers knotted in the fabric of his hoodie pooled in his lap.
Regect didn’t say anything at first. He just supported the wing at the base, thumb resting gently where feather met skin, as if gauging how much pressure it could take. It caused Ze to brace himself. The first adjustment came slowly, two clawed fingers slipped between a clumped section of feathers and easing them apart. A sharp little sting flared.
Ze inhaled quickly through his nose. Regect paused immediately.
“Too much?” Regect asked, his tone light.
“Nah, no—no.” Ze stuttered, breathing in. A beat. “It’s fine.” Ze added after a short moment.
Regect resumed, his hands impossibly lighter this time. The entity’s fingers smoothed downward along the small shaft of one short feather, aligning the tiny black barbs with a surprising amount of patience. The sting faded into warmth and the feeling slowly spread along his wing. Ze hadn’t realized how tight the muscles along his spine were until Regect’s thumb pressed into the base of the wing and began small, steady circles.
It hurt but, it felt like a muscle being unknotted. The bliss after the pain made Ze’s head reel; he could feel his fingers relaxing in his lap, eyes half-shutting.
“Earth to Ze?”
Blinking, Ze huffed softly. Regect adjusted the angle of the wing slightly, supporting it so the joint wasn’t strained. His fingers traced lightly down the next row of feathers, now slowly separating by easing them apart one by one, letting air move between them for the first time in months. Ze felt it immediately. The faint, dry friction that had been sitting there and had constantly irritated him had now loosened as Regect worked his fingers through the clumped layers. Each feather shifted slightly, freed from the one it had been pressed against for too long. Ze’s breath stuttered. He hadn’t realized how tight everything felt until it started releasing. Two fingers ran along the length of a feather, pressing just enough to realign the barbs. The tiny hooks clicked back into place under the motion, restoring the smooth surface they were meant to have. The sensation wasn’t sharp. It was tingly. Like someone was running their hands softly through hair at the base of his spine. Ze’s shoulders twitched, then settled. Another feather, separate, smoothened, aligned. Each pass was methodical.
Regect worked in small sections, lifting one layer gently to access the next. His thumb anchored near the base while his other fingers slid through the rows with steady pressure. Ze had braced at first. But somewhere between the slow passes, he stopped. His shoulders lowered and Regect felt it. The difference in muscle tension was immediate, the wing resting heavier in his large hand instead of resisting.
Ze went quiet after that. Not the defensive quiet. Not the sulking one. Just… still.
Regect adjusted his hold slightly, supporting more of the wing’s weight so Ze didn’t have to. His fingers continued their same patient rhythm, aligning the layers so they fell naturally instead of curling inward. Eventually, Ze’s breathing evened out. Slow in, slow out, the warmth of the sun through the window on his face mixed with the feeling of Regect’s hands working carefully at the base of the tiny wing. Every time Regect pressed slow circles into the tight muscle there, Ze felt the ache unwind a little more. He hadn’t realized how much constant, low pain he’d been carrying. His wing fluttered once, reflexive but soft. Regect stilled briefly, not because Ze was tense, but because he wasn’t. The tiny, unused muscles had gone slack. Ze’s head dipped forward slowly, and then fell softly sideways, and his fingers, which had been loosely gripping his hoodie, let go completely and had rested atop the clothing item.
Regect glanced down. Ze’s lashes stopped fluttering, his jaw—which was tight before—had softened. The rigid line of his spine had curved slightly as he leaned fully back, trusting. Regect didn’t comment. But he felt a smile curve on his own face, listening to the low snores from the smaller boy in-between his legs.
They worked through the remaining rows with even more care now, mindful not to jostle him awake. He removed a broken feather with a quick, efficient motion, then paused until Ze’s breathing stayed steady.
It did.
The first wing was finished — neat, layered, small but undeniably healthy.
Regect shifted carefully to the second.
Ze didn’t stir.
This wing was worse, more compressed, probably the side he slept on. It was more bent, not helping that it was stiff from months of being suffocated under the fabric of a thick hoodie. Regect lifted it gently, supporting the joint so the weight didn’t pull. Ze made a small sound from the adjustment and leaned harder into one of Regect’s legs. Regect could feel drool on it, his tail flicked.
The same process. Fingers sliding between inner layers. Freeing trapped fuzzies from the hoodie. Pressing slow circles into the base to loosen the tight scar tissue beneath. Under his touch, the wing gradually changed and stopped curling inward. The feathers stopped overlapping awkwardly and began to lie in clean, soft tiers.
Ze’s breathing stayed deep and even. Regect finished with a final smoothing pass down both wings at once, palms gliding from base to tip in steady, symmetrical strokes. They settled naturally against Ze’s back. Regect sat there a moment longer, one hand resting lightly at the base of the left wing, feeling the steady rise and fall of Ze’s breathing against him. Regect shifted carefully.
Ze stirred faintly when strong hands slid under his arms, lifting him with practiced ease.
“Mm—?” Ze made a small, confused sound, barely conscious.
“Ive gotcha..” Regect grunted softly. The male didn’t fully wake. He just melted again. Regect lifted him without jostling his back, mindful of the newly preened wings. A bit of pride rose in Regect’s chest. They adjusted their grip so the small feathers weren’t crushed, carrying him with an arm underneath his butt, Ze’s arm slung around their shoulder, the other one resting in-between their ribs. Regect twitched.
The room was quiet besides the slight hum of Ze’s overhead fan. He lowered Ze onto the bed gently, turning him onto his stomach so the wings wouldn’t be pinned beneath him. The mattress dipped softly under his weight. Ze shifted once, cheek pressing into the pillow, arms folding instinctively near his head. The wings rested clean and aligned against his back, rising and falling with slow breaths. Regect pulled the heavy blankets up carefully, tucking them around Ze’s sides without disturbing the feathers. He adjusted the pillow slightly so Ze’s neck wasn’t twisted.
For a moment, he hovered.
His eyes traced the small wings, how neat they lay now, how different they looked in the soft indoor light. Still short. Still compact. But no longer curled inward like something trying to disappear.
Ze exhaled deeply in his sleep, one wing gave a faint, unconscious twitch. Regect reached out without thinking and smoothed a single feather back into place.
Then they stepped back, turned off the light, and left the door slightly open as he left.