Archive of Our Own

Wifies doesn’t sleep often. For practical reasons, he simply can’t afford to. As the Director, he must remain constantly on guard, now more than ever. As safe as he’s designed Paragon to be for Parrot, the same can’t be said for himself. Sleeping in the house next door to his captive would be a death wish, and Parrot has already proven that he would try to kill Wifies if given the chance. Though Parrot may try to pretend that he’s given up on escape, the Director knows him better than that. If Wifies couldn’t wake up and off-hand a totem in time, he’d be banned from the server and then no one would be around to protect Parrot. That would be unacceptable.

The other reason Wifies doesn’t sleep is more a matter of ability. Simply put, he can’t sleep. Not for long anyway. Every time he tries, he’s plagued with nightmares, endless visions of Parrot dying in awful, entirely preventable ways. Whether it’s impaled by Clown, trapped by Spoke, or hunted to death by Ash, every dream ends the same way: with Parrot dead and Wifies completely and utterly alone. 

At least Wifies can take solace in knowing that they’re only bad dreams. Nothing like that can happen to Parrot while he’s safe in Paragon, hidden away from anyone on the server who might wish him harm. In Paragon, Parrot is free from danger and Wifies is free from worry. In Paragon, Wifies can protect Parrot from everything.

Or so he thought.

---

Parrot knows he’s getting sick when he wakes up in his unfinished birch house with a slight burning in the back of his throat. He clears his throat, hoping that might alleviate the itch, but it just makes it worse. Great. Just what he needs, a cold. Normally in these situations, Parrot would roll back over, wrap his wings around his body like a cocoon, and get another hour or two of sleep. Well, that’s not true. Normally, he’d be on the run from whatever villain of the week wanted to kill him and he’d have no time to slow down for a silly little cold. Unfortunately, his current villain of the week (month? year?) is an overprotective psycho that will surely break down the door in a panic if Parrot does not show his face. So, Parrot gets himself up with a groan and joins Wifies outside.

Wifies is fishing when Parrot finds him.

“Good Morning.” He says, turning to glance at Parrot with mismatched black and white eyes. There was a time that Parrot loved those eyes. Parrot offers little more than a nod and a grunt in response. It isn’t any less of a greeting than Parrot normally gives.

A couple months ago, when Parrot was first trying to gain Wifies’ trust, he was overly friendly, laying it on too thick. Wifies caught on immediately, as he always does, and it was getting him nowhere. Nowadays, Parrot goes for a more believable level of familiarity. He doesn’t pretend like he isn’t mad about the whole imprisonment thing, but he at least tries to show Wifies that he’s given up on escape. (Even though he hasn’t. He probably never will.)

As good of an actor as Parrot thinks himself, it only takes about two hours before Wifies is onto him.

“You're sick.” Wifies says. It's a statement, not a question. They’re walking along the shore of the coral reef section of Paragon, where Parrot had built his first house. It still stands there, up on the cliff. A testament to his past failures. Parrot jerks his head to look at Wifies, before regaining his composure. He doesn’t like that he feels he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“I'm pretty sure you're the sick one, between the two of us.” Parrot retorts.

Wifies doesn’t grace that with a response, though he does stop walking. Parrot takes a step back out of instinct, then cringes at himself for doing so. 

“You've been coughing a lot. And wiping your nose, when you think I’m not looking.”

“It's just allergies, dude.” Parrot says, folding his arms across his chest. “What, are you gonna kill the flowers for daring to produce pollen?”

His wings must be puffing out behind him, because he sees Wifies glance over his shoulder. Parrot wills them to settle back down. He doesn't like Wifies looking at his wings. Not anymore. He’s always hated how they betray what he’s feeling to anyone paying attention. And Wifies is always paying attention.

To his credit, Wifies doesn’t push Parrot farther. He simply shrugs and puts his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Just tell me if it gets worse. I can help.” 

Parrot scoffs, walking ahead. “I can take care of myself.”

Of course he can. After all, it’s just allergies.

---

It’s not just allergies.

Parrot wakes up the next morning feeling like someone took fire to his throat and a mace to his skull. His nose is completely stuffed with snot and his face is quite literally aching. He thought he’d seen the worst of it last night, when he was coughing so much he could barely fall asleep. But now, he can hardly breathe without thick painful coughs wracking his body. Each one sends sparks of pain shooting through his throat. 

For a single, foolish moment, Parrot tries to sit up in his bed, but the dizziness and nausea that follows send him lying straight back down. Parrot sighs, burrowing beneath his blanket. 

Wifies is going to worry about him. That’s the last thing he thinks about before his eyes fall shut.

The next time Parrot regains consciousness, it’s to a loud, insistent knock on his door. He groans, struggling to open his eyelids through the crust glueing them together. From just a squint, he can see that the sun is sitting high in the sky, pouring through the part of his roof that he never closed off. He sees the shadow of Wifies standing just behind the door.

“Parrot. It's almost noon. I made lunch, if you want it.” Wifies calls out. His shadow shifts in a way that seems almost nervous. “I let you sleep in, because I know you’re not feeling well.”

Parrot does not want any lunch. Just the thought of eating something makes him want to vomit. So he doesn’t reply, hoping that Wifies takes the hint and gets lost. Parrot is in no mood to humor him today. Unfortunately, as perceptive as Wifies is, he’s terrible at taking hints.

“Can you just say something so I know you're alive?” He asks. It’s a silly notion, the idea that Wifies would be so calm if he didn’t know whether or not Parrot was alive. If he really wasn’t sure, he’d be breaking down the door with his invisible guards and shaking Parrot in panicked desperation. No, he knows perfectly well that Parrot just has a cold, but he has to be annoying about it anyway.

“Go away, Wifies.” Parrot grumbles, turning over so that he looks like a pile of disgruntled feathers. His voice does not sound good. At all. He can almost hear Wifies fretting on the other side of the door, but Parrot doesn't care. He just wants to sleep. He tunes out whatever Wifies says next and shuts his eyes once more.

When he wakes up for the third time, it’s to Wifies shaking his shoulder gently. Parrot jolts awake with a start, then immediately regrets it. His head spins and pounds while he hacks out coughs like a barking dog. Wifies waits patiently for him to finish. The sun is setting through the unfinished roof. Parrot shivers; he’s freezing, though he doesn’t know if that’s because his house is open to the air or… another reason. As he tries to figure that out, Wifies takes the opportunity to place a hand on Parrot’s forehead. Parrot flinches, trying to shake him off, but Wifies stays put, brows scrunched in concentration. Finally, after an awkward few seconds, Wifies pulls his hand away.

“You have a fever.” He says, his expression more unreadable than usual.

“N-no shit.” Parrot murmurs, wriggling further down into his blanket as if that might help with the chill. Wifies frowns, pulling a bowl from his inventory.

“You need to eat something. I made soup.”

He holds up the bowl of steaming liquid to Parrot’s face, urging him to sit up. Parrot does so, if only to get a better look. He sees a brothy mixture of mushrooms, carrots, and beetroot. It’s a stew Wifies has made for him plenty of times before and he’s liked it every time. But now, Parrot feels no urge to even try it.

“M’not hungry.” He grumbles, almost childishly. Wifies frowns.

“You haven't eaten all day. And you need to stay hydrated.”

Parrot turns his head.

“Please, Parrot. Just eat ten bites. That's all.”

“Bro- just… just leave me alone.” Parrot snaps, but there’s no bite to it. He’s much too tired for that. Wifies, however, doesn’t give up.

“I will. After you eat ten bites.”

Parrot glares, now truly feeling like a child. There was a time when he did not need to negotiate his nutrition choices with anyone, and now look where he’s ended up.

“Five bites.” Parrot says. If he’s going to be forced to eat, he’s at least going to haggle.

“Eight.” Wifies insists.

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Fine.”

Parrot takes the spoon with a trembling hand. Wifies holds the bowl, which Parrot is secretly grateful for. The last thing he needs right now is to spill hot soup all over his lap.

The soup, for all that it’s worth, does look delicious— Wifies had always been the better cook between the two of them— though Parrot doubts he’ll be able to taste it through what feels like a thick layer of chalk coating his tongue. He has half a mind to refuse to eat it just on principle, but thinks better of it. If he pushes too hard, the Director might pay a visit to his friends on the outside of Paragon. The thought puts a bitter taste in Parrot's mouth before the soup even touches it.

He lifts the spoon to his lips and sure enough, it tastes like nothing. Great. Well, it’s better than it tasting bad, Parrot supposes. He eats the agreed upon eight bites as quickly as he can, eager to get Wifies to leave. When he sets the spoon down, Wifies seems disappointed, like he expected the deliciousness of the soup to compel Parrot to eat more than he had to. He takes the bowl and rises to his feet.

“Is there anything else you need?” Wifies asks, still fretting like a mother hen. Parrot rolls his eyes.

“I need you to get out of my house so I can sleep.”

You can't sleep with monsters nearby, Parrot thinks to himself. 

“About that…” Wifies says, suddenly staring straight into Parrot’s eyes. “You should come stay in my house.”

Parrot coughs. “Wh-what?”

“Your house isn’t finished. There’s a big hole in the roof, that can’t be good for you. It’s probably why you got sick in the first place.”

By the way he’s talking, it sounds like Wifies has wanted to say this for a while. And though he might be right, Parrot is too tired and too much in pain to admit it.

“Bro, I’m fine. Just leave me alo-.” Parrot is cut off by his own coughing fit, a cruel prank from the universe to undercut his point. Wifies, it seems, is entirely unconvinced, though he doesn’t say it.

“If you say so.”

---

He doesn’t know where he is. It’s too cold. Too hot. Too… everything. He just wants to sleep but someone is calling his name, over and over again, begging him for help, begging him to save them. It sounds like Luigi. Like Dean. Like Wifies. Like Wifies. Like Wifies. 

But who really is Wifies? What does “Wifies” even sound like?

It’s all yours.

Parrot, I am Wifies.

There’s nothing you can do alone that we can’t do better as a team.

Do I have to die like him for you to listen to me?

Smile, Parrot. You’re safe.

Safe.

So why doesn’t he feel safe?

---

Wifies is upset, for all that he tries not to show it. He’d prepared for everything: slow falling to prevent harm during escape attempts, removing all the shriekers in the ancient city, ensuring no hostile mobs could spawn within Paragon’s walls. He had protected Parrot from literally every harmful thing that could befall him and yet, somehow, Parrot managed to get himself sick. It’s almost comical, the lengths to which the universe tests him.

When he goes to check on Parrot the following morning— really it's still dark out, but Wifies couldn't wait any longer— Parrot is completely out of it. His forehead is burning and he's mumbling unintelligibly. Wifies immediately sends a message to Jumper.

Wifies: Get me a fever reduction potion, a pain killer, and a decongestant. You have an hour.

Jumperwho: Yes sir.

In the meantime, Wifies slides one arm beneath Parrot’s expansive wings and the other behind his knees, lifting him from the bed. He’s deceptively light, a side effect of having hollow bones. Ideal for flight, yet that much more delicate. His Parrot had always been built for exploring, not combat. It’s too bad he had to take the power of flight away from him. Gently, so as not to wake him, Wifies carries Parrot to his own house built from cherry wood and tucks him into his own bed. He knew that he should have forced Parrot to finish his house earlier, but he never thought not doing so would have resulted in this. Sure, Parrot will be mad when he realizes Wifies moved him, but it’s better than him freezing to death.

That being said, Parrot doesn’t seem anywhere close to freezing right now. His whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat, his brown hair plastered to his face. Wifies brushes his bangs away and frowns at how his skin scalds his hand. He needs to do something.

From his inventory, Wifies pulls out a bucket, which he fills with cold water from the pond. Then, returning to Parrot’s side, he takes a rag, wets it, and lays it across Parrot’s forehead. The effect is immediate. Parrot sighs in his sleep, visibly put at ease by the cold compress. Without thinking about it, Wifies reaches out to brush his fingers through Parrot’s hair, and Parrot practically melts into his touch. It seems that, even if the waking Parrot no longer trusts Wifies, subconsciously he still does. Wifies tries to find solace in that.

They continue like that for a few minutes, Wifies absentmindedly combing his fingers through Parrot’s hair, until a small sound draws his attention.

“W-W'fies….” Parrot mumbles, eyes cracking open just slightly. Wifies stops the petting, reaching down to grasp Parrot’s hand instead.

“Parrot? Are you awake?” 

Parrot groans, face scrunching up in discomfort. 

“...fies.”

Wifies squeezes Parrot’s hand in his own.

“I'm right here, Parrot. I have medicine on the way.” Wifies pulls out his communicator and shoots Jumper another message, even though it hasn’t been anywhere close to an hour yet.

Wifies: Hurry up or I kill a spy

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response before turning his focus back to Parrot. The old Wifies might have felt guilty about threatening Jumper so casually, but the Director can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is Parrot, who’s coughing weakly.

“Here- try to sit up. You need water.” Wifies urges. He pulls Parrot up just enough to shove some extra pillows behind his back, sitting him up straight enough to drink without choking. Parrot blinks at him sluggishly, his eyes too bright and his face too flushed.

“Wi…fies.” Parrot mumbles again. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, as if none of his words are sitting quite right. Wifies pulls out a water bottle from his inventory and holds it to Parrot’s lips.

“Drink this.”

Yesterday, Parrot might have offered some petty resistance, but today, Parrot is too out of it to do anything but follow directions. (Wifies would probably be pleased if he weren’t so worried.) He tilts the water bottle back slightly, just enough for Parrot to drink slowly. Even so, trails of water run down either side of Parrot’s chin. He only gets about three sips in before he jerks forward and starts coughing and hacking violently. Wifies winces, but waits for him to finish before offering him a tissue. Parrot takes it without a word of thanks, blowing his nose with a thunderous, almost painful sound.

Parrot looks… miserable. There’s no better word for it. It makes Wifies’ stomach churn. He needs to fix it, needs to do something.

“Parrot… is there anything I can get you? I have more soup from yesterday-”

“S…sleep. Jus’ wanna… sleep.” 

“Okay… okay you can sleep. I'll have to wake you up when the medicine gets here though.” Wifies helps Parrot lay back down. The bird is out again the moment his head touches the pillow. Wifies never lets go of his hand, stroking his knuckles with his thumb. “I'll stay right here, Parrot. Always.”

---

Jumper arrives with the potions just 40 minutes after the Director had requested them. He takes them without so much as a thank you, and his glare is cold enough that she practically sprints out the second the potions leave her inventory. Wifies looks down at the three colorful vials in hand. They’re smaller than normal combat potions, though probably more concentrated. He knows from experience that they won’t taste very good, but unfortunately for Parrot, he’ll have to deal with it.

Speaking of Parrot, Wifies returns to his side with a frown. He’s sleeping, but it looks far from restful. His brows are knit into a deep crease and his teeth are grinding together. He keeps shifting in his sleep, letting out small murmurs and gasps every now and then. He must be having a nightmare. Wifies lays his hand on Parrot’s shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Parrot, hey, it’s time to wake up. I have medicine for you.”

Parrot barely stirs in response. Wifies has to coax him twice more before his eyes crack open. When his gaze falls to Wifies, it’s as if he’s looking right through him. What he says next makes Wifies freeze.

“W-w'fies… m'sorry…” He slurs, barely audible at first. “M'so s'rry…”

Wifies blanks. He’s learned to expect the unexpected from Parrot, but even he could never have predicted an apology of all things to fall from his lips.

“What? Why are you sorry, Parrot?”

Parrot’s nose scrunches like it does whenever he’s trying to solve a complex puzzle. Wifies almost repeats the question, unsure if Parrot even understood him, but suddenly Parrot is talking… and crying.

“L..let… I let… you die…” Parrot sniffs, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “Ash killed… n-no… you…”  He trails off, visibly confused. He can’t seem to tell what’s real and what’s a memory, blurring things that happened with the lies Wifies had told him.

It’s been so long since he last let Wifies see him cry, that kind of emotional vulnerability had been off-limits ever since Wifies revealed himself as the Director. Wifies isn’t sure Parrot even knows he’s crying now. He certainly wouldn’t be this open about it if he were more aware. Something about that doesn’t sit right with Wifies. Like he’s taking advantage of Parrot’s weakened state to get inside his head. But then, that’s what the Director does, isn’t it? The better he understands Parrot, the easier it will be to predict his every move. The easier it will be to keep him in Paragon. To keep him alive.

“M'sorry… sorry… sorry…” Parrot sobs.

“You don't need to apologize, Parrot. You didn't… you didn't do anything wrong.” 

Parrot’s breath hitches in his chest. “...I killed… I killed you…”

Wifies blinks. What? 

Of all the things Parrot could possibly blame himself for, justified or not, Wifies’ supposed “death” was the farthest thing from that list. And yet here he was, begging for forgiveness like a man on his deathbed.

“Parrot, you didn't-”

“I killed you! You… you're… you're not W'fies… anymore…”

Oh. 

So that’s what he meant.

It’s true, the old Wifies died so that the Director could be born. And the Director was only born because Parrot refused to care for himself. In that way, Wifies could see how Parrot might feel some lingering guilt. But then, it’s in Parrot’s nature to be reckless. Could anyone blame him for his nature?

Wifies takes a breath.

“Parrot…” He trails off, unsure of what to even say. How unusual, for the Director to be at a loss for words. Parrot, on the other hand, only has one thing to say.

“S'rry… sorry… sorry… m'so sorry-” He repeats the meaningless word until Wifies can’t take it anymore. He brings his hand over Parrot’s mouth, forcing him to stop talking. Parrot hardly even seems to notice. He just starts crying harder, sobbing and struggling to breathe. Wifies takes the opportunity to wrap Parrot in a tight hug, the first hug they’d shared since entering Paragon. He buries Parrot’s face into his shoulder, uncaring about the tears drenching his shirt.

They stay like that for a while, Parrot crying and hiccuping into Wifies’ shoulder while Wifies runs his fingers over the feathers at the base of Parrot’s wings. They’re bent and crooked from Parrot’s time spent in bed, in desperate need of a preen. (Wifies makes a mental note to do that later.) Eventually, the trickle of tears slows and Parrot’s breath evens out, matching Wifies’. When he’s sure that Parrot won’t fall apart the moment he lets go, Wifies pulls away and reaches for the potions.

“Alright, these probably won't taste amazing, but I need you to drink every last drop, okay?” He says, gently. Parrot sniffs, looking down at the bottles not with suspicion, but confusion.

“..re we… potting up? F-fighting?” 

Wifies shakes his head. He hates that that's Parrot's first assumption.

“Not fighting. You're safe here, remember? This is just medicine to make you feel better.”

“O-oh…”

He almost hands Parrot the potions, before recalling something important. Medicine like this shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach. He pulls out a roll of bread instead.

“You gotta take these with food, so I'm gonna have you eat a bit of bread, okay?”

Parrot barely glances at it before turning his head.

“M'not… not hungry-”

“I know. I know you're not, but you gotta do this for me, okay? It's just bread.” Wifies tears a bite sized piece off the roll, holding it up for Parrot to take, but the bird doesn't move.

“W'fies-” Parrot whines.

“Parrot.” Wifies snaps, then softens. “Please don't be stubborn. You need this.”

Parrot gives him that look, the one with the big sad eyes that used to make Wifies do anything and everything. But that won't work on him anymore. Even in his hazy state, Parrot seems to realize that. He grumbles, taking the bread from Wifies’ hand and shoving it in his mouth. He gets about halfway through the roll before refusing to eat any more. Wifies will take what he can get.

“Alright then. It's time for the medicine.” He raises the vials to eye level and picks the first one, the fever reducer. The sooner Parrot can stop feeling like a living furnace, the better, as far as Wifies is concerned. “Okay Parrot… just uh- just drink these and you can go back to sleep, okay?”

Parrot nods groggily, wrapping his fingers around the vial. Used to chugging potions in the heat of battle, he tilts it back into his mouth in one quick motion. In the next second, several things happen in rapid succession. First, Parrot’s eyes practically bulge out of his head in shock and disgust, clearly not having expected the bitter chemical taste of the potion. Then, he tries to spit it out, only for Wifies’ hand to slap over his mouth just in time.

“Swallow it.” Wifies commands. Parrot makes a muffled noise of protest, but Wifies does not relent. “You're just holding it on your tongue and making it worse. Swallow, Parrot.”

Without another option, Parrot swallows the foul-tasting medicine. Wifies waits to see the subtle bob of his throat before removing his hand from Parrot’s mouth. Immediately, Parrot lapses into another coughing fit, occasionally finding the space to look up at Wifies in betrayal. It’s an expression Wifies has unfortunately gotten used to. 

“Okay, that was the fever reducer, you still need the pain killer and the decongestant.” Wifies says, holding up the remaining two vials. Parrot scowls.

“N-no.”

“Look I know it doesn't taste good, but you gotta-”

“No.”

Wifies sighs. This isn’t working. He should know by now, there’s only one way to get Parrot to listen when he’s refusing what’s in his best interest.

“Parrot.” The Director says, voice quiet but firm. “You know what happens when you don't listen to me. Think about your friends.”

Even in his muddled state, the threat registers clearly on Parrot’s face. His eyes widen, jaw falling slack. “W-wait…”

“Drink the medicine, or I'll kill them.” It isn’t a bluff. The Director would execute the entire server in front of Parrot if that’s what it took for him to behave. Parrot knows that.

Tears well up in the corners of Parrot’s eyes. Wifies cringes at the thought that he might start sobbing again, but instead, Parrot just sniffs and holds out a hand for the last two vials. He chugs both at once, seemingly trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. The only evidence of his disgust is a slight grimace. Once Wifies sees the last drop disappear, he feels his shoulders relax, content with the knowledge that Parrot would be getting better soon.

“Do you want water to wash the taste out?” He asks. Parrot just nods, bitterly, refusing to meet Wifies’ gaze. When Wifies hands him a bottle of water, he all but rips it from his hand, chugging it as fast as possible.

“Good. That stuff should start working fast. You'll have to take another dose in about six hours. But for now, you can go back to sleep.” Wifies smiles, though Parrot doesn’t respond. Gingerly, he helps Parrot to lay back down, removing the pillows from beneath him. Parrot turns to face the wall.

An awkward stillness, if only for a moment, hovers between the two. Then, of course, Wifies breaks the silence.

“Want me to read something?”

Parrot makes a low, non-committal chirp, probably meant to be taken as a no, but Wifies takes it as a yes. He grabs the first book on Parrot's shelf: The Hunger Games. Parrot’s favorite.

“When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress…”

Wifies reads aloud until Parrot's breath evens out and he starts snoring softly. Now unobserved, Wifies can't help but let himself get lost in thought. He worries his lip, thinking back to Parrot's crying fit.

So, he blames himself for how things turned out. For Wifies “deaths,” both the false and the symbolic. Parrot has always been too hard on himself, always carrying the weight of everyone else's problems as if they were his own. It makes sense that he would take this on too, justified or not.

But then, Wifies wonders to himself, was Parrot right? Right to take the blame? Wifies only had to resort to such extremes to keep him safe because Parrot refused to listen to reason. The old Wifies had to die because of the choices Parrot made. In that way, maybe Parrot really was responsible. Wifies has never really thought of it.

To him, everything he's done has been both necessary and inevitable. He’s never stopped to think about who's at fault because that part doesn't really matter. Parrot is the only thing that matters. His safety is all that matters.

And yet, if he really digs deep into his feelings, feelings that he'd buried a long time ago, Wifies has to admit…

He blames Parrot too.

---

The next couple days follow a rough pattern. Parrot sleeps like the dead for a few hours, gets woken up by Wifies to eat and drink disgusting medicine, before falling back to sleep to the sound of Wifies reading his favorite book. Outwardly, Parrot insists that he can do without the bedtime stories, but he’s loath to admit that he actually quite enjoys them. Who could blame him? Wifies is a good storyteller.

Parrot would also like to insist that he doesn’t need the foul medicine, but not only does Wifies get scarily quiet when Parrot even suggests such a thing, Parrot can’t deny that it’s helping. He’s been a lot more lucid since starting to take the medicine, able to have somewhat coherent conversations with Wifies that he actually remembers. The events of the previous day, before he got the medicine, are a complete haze. Though from the way Wifies is treating him, Parrot can only suspect that he was concerningly out of it.

Unfortunately, Parrot’s fever is about as stubborn as he is. That goes for the cough as well. And until such a time comes that both are gone, he doubts Wifies is going to leave him to his own devices. That makes plotting escape all the more difficult. (Realistically, even Parrot knows that he’s in no condition to be making escape attempts right now.)

So, Parrot allows himself to be cared for, as much as it irks him to do so. That is, until Wifies makes an odd request.

“Turn around.”

Parrot is sitting up in bed, lost in thought as he looks outside the window. He almost thinks he misheard something, but Wifies is looking at him expectantly.

“What?” Parrot laughs nervously.

“Turn around.” Wifies repeats. His blank expression does nothing to clue Parrot in as to what he wants.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

The idea of turning his back to Wifies makes Parrot’s mouth very dry, and not without reason. The last time he let Wifies get behind him he-... Parrot bites the inside of his cheek. He can’t think about that. Not now. 

He slowly turns to face the wall. Behind him, he feels Wifies’ weight settle down onto the bed. Suddenly, Parrot feels cold fingers brush the base of his wings, where feathers meet skin, and he all but jumps out of bed.

“What are you doing!?” He yells, breath catching in his chest, bringing about another round of coughing. The part of his back that Wifies touched burns with phantom electricity, as if he’d been stabbed there. Wifies, for his part, seems unperturbed by Parrot’s reaction.

“Relax. I'm just preening your wings.” The way he says it is so casual. At one point in their friendship, that would have made sense. But now, the idea of Wifies hands anywhere near his wings brings bile to Parrot’s throat. He subconsciously tucks them behind his body, as if hiding them from view might keep them safe.

“W-why?” He sputters. 

“You've been laying on them for days. All your feathers are messed up.” Wifies says, again as though Parrot were overreacting about something completely normal. He isn’t wrong. Parrot’s wings have been getting itchier and more uncomfortable over the past few days, especially the feathers at the base of his wings. Once, he might have asked Wifies to help him preen them, but now…

“I can do that myself-”

“You and I both know you can't reach back here. Just let me help. You always used to let me preen your wings before.”

“That was before you-” Parrot stops. He can’t say it. Not out loud. That would be too much. Too real. “...I'm not just gonna let you touch my wings after what you did last time.”

He still remembers it so vividly, the day Wifies brought him to Paragon.

With the threats against his friends and Nufuli’s death still fresh in his mind, Parrot had no choice but to board Wifies’ flying machine and step onto the obsidian tower surrounded by burning lava. He’d thought, at the time, that the prison would be easy to escape. He’d simply wait for Wifies to leave and soar over the gap with a couple flaps of his powerful wings. But he should have known that Wifies would prepare for that. He should have known Wifies would stop at nothing to keep him contained.

He tried to fight it, when Wifies came to clip his wings. He struggled and screamed and when that didn’t work, he begged. But it didn’t matter. Wifies didn’t care. His flight feathers were removed and with them any hope of touching the sky again. Wifies had cut them cleanly and completely, right down to the root.

At least now, Wifies has the decency to look a little guilty.

“Look… I'm sorry. But it was either that or bind them and that would've hurt you more-” If looks could kill, the glare that Parrot shoots would be considered a war crime. Wifies sighs, apparently accepting that anything else he says is just further digging a hole.

“Please, I'll be quick. I promise.”

He’s insistent. Dangerously so. Parrot knows that tone of voice, it’s the same one he uses when he makes Parrot take the medicine. It’s the kind of tone that doesn’t take no for an answer. For whatever reason, Wifies is dead set on doing this.

Parrot weighs the pros and cons of just giving in. As much as the idea of letting Wifies anywhere near his wings disgusts him, he’s not sure getting into an argument about it is worth it either. Especially when Parrot’s head is starting to throb again and a nap is starting to seem like the best thing in the world.  Perhaps he’s become too used to just doing whatever Wifies says these past few days. Perhaps he’s just too tired to fight anymore. Whatever the reason, Parrot sighs, sitting back down on the bed and allowing his wings to fall into Wifies’ lap. 

“Just the back ones. The ones I can't reach.”

Wifies hums in agreement, quickly getting to work straightening out the bent feathers closest to Parrot’s back, flaking off the keratin sheath of any new pin feathers he finds. He works efficiently, careful not to pull too hard or break any of the delicate feathers between his fingers. When Parrot’s wing muscles start to tremble, Wifies makes no comment, only taking extra care to rub soothing circles into the muscles until Parrot can’t help but relax into his touch. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.

It’s only natural that Wifies knows just how to make the tension melt from Parrot’s body. Parrot himself had taught him how to preen, way back over a year ago when they’d first met. Wifies had seen him, straining and failing to reach the pin feathers at the center of his back, and offered to help. At the time, Parrot had been nothing but grateful, and Wifies was a fast learner. It wasn’t long until Parrot had come to look forward to Wifies’ preening, allowing him to do the full wings whenever time allowed. Wifies always seemed to look forward to it too. Maybe Parrot should have wondered why.

---

Wifies had missed this. The feeling of Parrot relaxing in his arms, allowing Wifies to truly just take care of him. Granted, Parrot seems to be trying his hardest not to let himself relax. He goes through cycles of easing into Wifies’ touch before suddenly straightening, as if remembering that he’s not supposed to enjoy this. It’s almost infuriating, another example of the kind of behavior that made Wifies trap him here in the first place. He just can’t allow himself to be happy. But Wifies swallows his frustration, focused on the task at hand.

He realizes, as he runs his fingers through soft feathers, that if he stays completely silent, barely even breathing, that Parrot seems to forget he’s even there. He tests the theory and sure enough, Parrot slowly melts into his touch, eyes falling shut. Wifies smiles.

He does more than what they agreed to. Once it becomes clear that Parrot isn’t paying attention, Wifies starts working on the feathers towards the middle of his wings. He’s hesitant at first, sure that Parrot will turn and snap at him, but the bird just sighs contentedly, letting out the occasional absent-minded chirp. So Wifies continues, allowing himself to get lost in the feel of Parrot’s feathers between his fingers. They stay like that for a long while, two friends caught in a blissful moment.

And then Wifies ruins it.

“This is nice. I forgot how soft your feathers were.” He remarks, running his fingers through the curtain of blue, green, and orange. As if shocked by electricity, Parrot finally seems to realize where he is. His wings tense and he jerks around to face Wifies head on.

“Alright that's enough. You can stop now.” He snaps, voice shaking, looking at Wifies like he's someone to be feared. The same way he used to look at Clown and Ash. 

Something in Wifies’ chest burns at that.

It's infuriating, how Parrot seems to refuse to understand that he’s safe here, that Wifies only wants what's best for him. If he were less patient, less willing to play the long game, Wifies might even snap. He might grab Parrot by the shoulders, scream in his face, and shake him until he comes to his senses. He's certainly wanted to a couple times these past months.

And yet, Wifies just takes a breath. He stands up, the picture of indifference.

“Right. Well… I'm going now. I'll be back in a few hours for your next dose of medicine. If you need anything, just send me a message.”

He doesn't look back as he leaves, but he can feel Parrot's eyes burning him on the way out.

---

His responsibilities as the Director don’t stop even after getting Parrot into Paragon. He still needs to keep tabs on people, still needs to maintain knowledge and power over the server. If he allows his influence to fall, then the day might come that he loses grasp over his pawns, and then he would be truly powerless. For example, if Jumper were to get more spies, spies Wifies doesn’t know the identities of, then his power over her would wane. Then she might act against him, perhaps even help Parrot to escape. That would be disastrous. And so, every once in a while, as much as he hates it, Wifies must leave his Parrot’s side in Paragon and do business in the outside world.

This remains true, even with Parrot’s current illness. Though his fever still lingers, it remains low enough that it's no longer acutely worrying. He’s been alert, never again as out of it as he had been the night he cried in Wifies’ arms. (Wifies tries to ignore the part of himself that’s disappointed by that.) Wifies thought, perhaps foolishly, that with Parrot still feeling under the weather, he’d be able to slip out of Paragon for a day and get some work done without worrying about him running around trying to escape. After all, Parrot seemed in no hurry to leave his bed (Wifies’ bed), still sleeping for hours at a time. Wifies assumed that Parrot would just sleep through his absence and wake up in time for dinner.

For the first time in a while, Wifies assumed wrong.

He’s only thirty minutes out from the obsidian walls when he gets a frantic message from Jumper.

Jumperwho: HE WON'T STAY IN BED. HELP.

Wifies wants to slap his palm into his forehead until he gets a concussion.

Instead, he just takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and takes his stasis back to Paragon.

He enters the cherry blossom grove to an almost comical scene. Parrot is standing in the doorway of his house, using the doorframe as support for his obviously trembling legs. But his legs aren’t trembling in fear- no, definitely not. His face, flushed with a low fever, is scrunched in frustration as he glares at the three guards in front of him. The guards, Jumper, Derapchu, and Leo, (though Parrot doesn’t know that), seem to be trying desperately to figure out how to get Parrot back inside without hurting him. None of them have swords out, though they have placed several signs, clearly trying to communicate without giving away their identities. As Wifies approaches, he can make out the words on them.

Plz go back to bed

Ur still sick dude

It’s the Director’s orders.

The old Wifies probably would have laughed. Now he’s just tired.

“What exactly do you think you're doing?” He asks. Immediately, everyone’s attention snaps to him. Parrot looks surprised, then even more mad, if that’s possible.

“What does it look like I'm doing? I want to go back to my house, but your stupid guards keep trying to tuck me in.” Parrot scowls, punctuating his disdain with a shove of the guard closest to him. Derapchu, if Wifies had to guess. The guard doesn’t even budge an inch. Apparently, a sick bird with no armor versus someone in full netherite is a bit of an unfair match up.

Wifies, as always, keeps a straight face.

“They have orders to keep you in bed.” He says, simply.

“Why? I'm feeling fine, bro.” Parrot retorts, perhaps unaware of just how close he looks to passing out. Wifies just blinks, unconvinced.

“You still have a fever. I'm not gonna let you push yourself too soon and end up worse.”

“I'm fine. I've rested enough.”

“This isn't a negotiation.”

“Seriously!?” Parrot squawks, throwing his hands up in the air. “The obsidian walls weren't enough? Now you're trapping me in your house?”

“Just until your fever breaks for good.”

Parrot growls. “Dude. Stop treating me like a child.”

“I wouldn't have to if you would just take care of yourself.”

“Wifies-”

“Parrot.” Wifies snaps. He’s done. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to him, or maybe he’s just fed up with Parrot’s antics, but Wifies isn’t doing this today. “Stop arguing, turn around, and go back to bed.”

And in case Parrot has forgotten the stakes, Wifies adds, “Or you know what happens.”

“Or you know what happens- y'know what- No! I'm not doing this anymore.” Parrot stomps past the guards and Wifies, towards the pond. The guards move to follow, but Wifies dismisses them with a wave of his hand. He follows alone, silent as a shadow.

“You cannot just threaten to kill my friends every time I disagree with you!” Parrot shouts. Behind him, his wings flare out in rage, making him look bigger. More threatening. But Wifies hardly cares.

“If that's what it takes to make you listen-” He starts, keeping his voice measured, but Parrot cuts him off.

“Shut up! Just shut up, Wifies! I am sick of this! I'm sick of this- deranged freaking obsession you have with me!”

“I just want you to be safe-”

“No, you want to own me!” Parrot yells, pacing back and forth along the bank of the pond. “You pretend that you're doing this all for my own good- that it's all in my best interest- but you're lying, Wifies! Both to yourself and me.”

He turns on his heel, staring right into Wifies’ black and white eyes.“You know this is wrong.”

Now, even Wifies struggles to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Everything I've done has been to protect you-”

“Everything you've done has HURT ME!”

The world is silent, save for the rustle of the trees in the wind.

And then, Parrot is crying again.

“You clipped my wings, Wifies!” He sobs, trying and failing to stop the tears falling down his cheeks. “You knew how much they meant to me- you knew that I loved flying and you-”

“WHAT ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?” 

His volume surprises himself as much as it does Parrot. The bird falls silent, gaping at Wifies with a mixture of shock and despair.

Once, Wifies might have apologized for raising his voice.

Once, Wifies might have rushed over to comfort Parrot, to dry his tears and do his best to fix whatever was making him cry.

Once, Wifies might have done a lot of things differently.

But now, he’s overtaken by an emotion he hadn’t let himself feel in a long, long time: anger at Parrot.

“You are one of the most selfish, stupid, infuriating people I have ever met, Parrot.” Wifies spits, “You're always trying to act so much holier than everyone around you- always trying to save the day to prove what a good person you are. But at the end of the day, you only have morals when it benefits you.”

“What the hell are you talking about-” Parrot tries to interject, but Wifies won’t let him. Now that he’s finally saying what’s been on his mind for so long, he can’t stop. The old Wifies shouts at him to shut up, to just apologize to Parrot and move along. The Director tells him to stop baring his emotions so openly, to return to the mask he spent so long meticulously crafting. But this anger comes from somewhere else. Not the old Wifies. Not the Director. Somewhere deeper. 

Perhaps, for the first time in his life, Wifies is being honest.

“The pets, Parrot. My camel and Dean's dog. You killed them without a second thought because you said they'd slow us down. But then you turned back and nearly got yourself KILLED just to get the stupid allay!”

“I-”

“I'm not done.” Wifies snaps.

“You always- always make promises you can't keep. You promised Horace that he'd finally have a civilization that didn't get destroyed- you didn't even pay him- and guess what happened like a week later? I mean- it's no wonder he joined the mafia!” Wifies laughs humorlessly, like this is all some joke. Like he doesn’t feel wetness peaking at the corners of his eyes. “And then there was Dean- I told you to leave him. I knew he was betraying us- you knew he was betraying us- and yet you still wouldn't listen.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Parrot never listened to him. Not once. Not until he’d thought he was dead. 

Do I have to die like him for you to listen to me?

Well, Parrot is certainly listening now. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, searching for words that don’t exist. Wifies waits, curious to see what Parrot might have to say for himself. 

“Dean was being forced to… I- I didn't know-” Parrot stammers, 

“Look- none of that matters anymore, okay? Maybe I wasn't perfect, but this?” Parrot gestures around to Paragon, to his clipped wings, to everything that Wifies had done to him in the name of keeping him alive. “This trumps everything, Wifies.”

Finally, something like sorrow settles into Parrot’s gaze. 

“I could never hurt you like you've hurt me.”

Wifies actually laughs at that. It’s a terrifying sound; hysteric.

“Are you serious!? Do you actually believe that!?” 

Without warning, Wifies grabs Parrot by the collar, knocking them both off balance. They topple to the ground with a painful thud, Parrot letting out a surprised squawk. When the dust settles, Wifies is crouched over Parrot, knees pressed on either of his wings, pinning him down. The bird struggles, but Wifies barely feels it. His heart is thundering in his chest, filled with nothing but the need to make Parrot understand. He stares down with eyes burning.

“Do you have any idea how much I've suffered, watching you always a hair's width from death!? Do you have any idea how it feels to watch you risk for life for what- your ego!? Your need to feel like a good person!?”

For the first time since they had met, Wifies sobs.

“It's torture, Parrot.”

---

He can’t breathe. Every fiber of his body is screaming at him to get up, to fly away until the obsidian walls disappear over the horizon. But he can’t. Not only can he no longer fly, he’s trapped beneath the body weight of his former friend and that friend is… crying.

Wifies is crying.

Parrot didn’t know he could do that.

As Parrot’s mind reels over everything that just happened, everything that was just said to him, Wifies is sobbing into his shoulder, face buried in his shirt. The position feels familiar, though Parrot doesn’t know why. Even after everything, Parrot feels the urge to rub Wifies back and comfort him. But he can’t do that. His hands are pinned.

So all he can do is think.

He starts with the questions he’s asked himself every night since arriving at Paragon: How long has Wifies been this way? What signs did he miss? If he had noticed sooner, if he had made different choices, would things have turned out differently? Or were they always destined to end up here, clung together in the dirt, a friendship broken into too many pieces to count?

It was easy to blame himself, easier still to blame Wifies. Parrot had always chalked it up to a clash of ideals, his own top priority being the wellbeing of the many and Wifies’ top priority being the wellbeing of the ParrotX2. Parrot had thought Wifies selfish, unable to see how other people’s lives could be more important than Parrot’s own. Parrot had never thought, even once, that the same label could be thrown back at him. Even on the nights that Parrot was at his most self-loathing, he never would have considered himself to be so self-centered. He hated himself for not doing enough, for not being in five places at once. He hated himself for the things he could not control.

But now, Parrot is wondering, did he forget to take accountability for the things that he could? He did kill those animals. He did take advantage of Horace. He did let Dean throw them off course. Why did he do those things? Parrot can hardly remember the reasoning now, his memories dulled by months of grief and struggle. But surely he had a reason, right? Surely he just did what he had to for the greater good?

His gut response is to say yes. Wifies is just crazy. He’s just trying to get inside Parrot’s head. He wants to believe that this is all some plot to break down his sense of self and destroy his spirit.

But Wifies is crying. Truly crying. 

Because Parrot hurt him.

Every dangerous situation that Parrot put them through, every meaningless treasure hunt, every convoluted trap, every failed civilization, every heroic rebellion against insurmountable odds… that is what got them here. And the worst part is, Parrot knows. He knows that if he were given the chance to do it all again, to go back and change the past, he would make the same choices. Every time. He would always be too reckless. He would always be a hypocrite. He would always go out of his way for others. 

He would always end up in Paragon.

He would always make Wifies cry.

“We're torturing each other.” He concludes. Wifies breath hitches. He lifts his head from Parrot’s chest, looking down at him with shining, wet eyes. The sky is too blue above them.

“What?” He asks, voice trembling.

“We’re torturing each other.” Parrot repeats, “Everything we do… we just hurt each other and make each other miserable.”

The words hurt to say, though probably not as much as they hurt to hear. Wifies looks like he’s been shot. Parrot gently nudges him to let him up, and Wifies just lets him, wordlessly, eyes never leaving Parrot’s face. They both remain sitting in the dirt. Parrot pulls his knees up to his chest.

“Wouldn't it be better… if we just went our separate ways? I mean- dude, we don't even like each other anymore.”

That seems to break Wifies out of the shock. His eyes widen and he grabs Parrot’s hand, as if he might fade away otherwise.

“No. No- that's not… this isn't a permanent problem. If you just listen to me then-” He cuts himself off. It seems even Wifies can tell that the words sound ridiculous as they’re leaving his mouth. 

Parrot slowly pulls his hand away.

“I'm not going to change for you, Wifies.”

A soft silence.

A thousand words said and unsaid. And then,

“...I know.”

Parrot can tell Wifies has retreated a bit, not quite fully into the mask of the Director, but more reserved. It’s as if Wifies’ emotions are a large gaping wound, one he’s now trying to suture back together. He wipes his face dry, any evidence of his vulnerability erased.

“I'm not going to change either.” 

Parrot had expected as much.

“I'm going to keep looking for an escape.” Parrot resolves, more to himself than to Wifies. Wifies just nods.

“And I'm going to stop you. Every time.”

Behind them, near the cherry wood house, the invisible guards still stand, having not been dismissed. They are the fabric of this place. Without them, it does not function. Parrot glances at them, then to the sky above. Out of reach.

“So that's it, then? This is how we spend our lives? Never changing? Never growing? Just… stagnant?”

Wifies stares at him. 

“I guess so.”

“Then… this isn't really that different from being dead, is it?”

“That's not true.” Wifies says, standing up. “The difference is that we're together.”

He offers Parrot a hand.

“And we always will be.”

Parrot sighs.

He takes the hand.