Chapter Text
Wifies was a Harvard student.
And, as anyone would probably imagine upon hearing that, he spent a frankly ridiculous amount of time studying.
Still, he had plenty of hobbies.
Perhaps too many.
One of his favorites—and probably the one that consumed the most time and money—was birds.
Wifies loved birds.
All of them.
From the most common species to those that seemed specifically designed to make biologists lose their minds trying to classify them. He had entire books dedicated to them, notebooks filled with observations, photographs, distribution maps, and even little cards containing random facts that absolutely no one had ever asked him for.
Among all the species he adored, there were three that held a particularly special place in his heart: the long-eared nightjars, the Shima Enaga…
And, of course, macaws.
There was something about them that fascinated him.
Their intense, beautifully harmonious colors, their different feather patterns, their behavior, the sheer variety of species…
Every kind of parrot seemed to have something new to teach him.
Wifies was perfectly capable of traveling to the other side of the world just to observe a species in its natural habitat, only to return home with hundreds of photographs and enough notes to write an entire book.
In fact, he had probably already written several.
So, after leaving the university that afternoon, he decided to do what had become part of his routine:
Visit the prettiest park in the city.
It was a quiet place, filled with enormous trees and little walking paths where birds often gathered. Perfect for spending a few hours with his camera and, if he was lucky, finding some interesting species.
He had brought along his little notebook and a professional camera that probably cost more than someone’s house.
But, in his defense…
It had been a completely necessary investment.
That was what he told himself every time someone asked how much it had cost.
The dog hybrid wandered peacefully between the trees, his camera hanging from his neck as he carefully scanned the surroundings through the lens.
A blue jay.
Click.
A duck.
Click.
Another blue jay.
Click.
—I’ve already got you guys… —he muttered, lowering the camera slightly.
It wasn’t that he disliked them. Of course he didn’t. But he’d photographed them so many times that he was beginning to feel like he could recognize every single one of them by name.
Wifies let out a small, bored huff.
Maybe he wouldn’t find anything new that day. Perhaps he’d have to settle for looking through his photographs when he got home and going back to studying.
A tragedy.
He continued walking, letting his eyes wander across the branches in search of any interesting movement.
Then, among the foliage, something caught his attention.
A flash of color.
Wifies stopped and slowly turned his camera in that direction.
Green.
Turquoise.
Yellow.
Red.
His eyes widened slightly.
—What…?
He adjusted the focus, and the camera captured the figure again.
Intense.
Colorful.
Beautiful.
The colors blended together almost perfectly; the plumage looked carefully maintained, each feather delicate and bright beneath the sunlight.
Wifies felt his boredom disappear completely.
Could it be…?
—A macaw?
He adjusted the lens again, following the figure as it shifted slightly.
And then he saw it.
It wasn’t a bird.
It was a boy.
Wifies froze completely.
The boy was sitting peacefully on one of the park benches, an open book resting in his hands. He turned the pages calmly, completely unaware of the student watching him from several yards away.
Green hair with small hints of turquoise.
Deep brown eyes.
And feathers…
Wifies swallowed.
Beautiful feathers.
He was a hybrid.
A macaw hybrid.
And that was…
Strange.
Very strange.
Wifies knew macaws quite well. He knew their habitats, their native regions, their behavioral patterns, and even the areas where hybrids of certain species were most likely to be found.
And this city was not exactly suitable for a macaw hybrid.
The climate.
The environment.
The lack of a proper habitat.
Everything about the area made finding one here incredibly unusual.
It was like finding a needle in a haystack.
And Wifies had just found one without even looking for it.
—No way… —he whispered.
He lowered the camera slightly, trying to remember whether he’d ever seen the boy around before.
Never.
And that made it even stranger.
Wifies came to this park practically every day. He knew its trees, its paths, and, most importantly, the birds that tended to appear there.
All kinds of birds.
Even some smaller species he still hadn’t been able to identify completely.
But never him.
How had he managed to go unnoticed?
Wifies raised the camera again, observing the boy through the lens.
The boy simply turned another page, completely at ease, as if he weren’t the most unlikely creature Wifies had encountered in months.
As if he weren’t being watched by a Harvard student who had completely forgotten that he’d come to the park to photograph birds.
Wifies felt his cheeks beginning to warm, and before he knew it, his hands were trembling slightly around the camera.
He couldn’t look away.
He had never seen plumage like that.
Or colors so…
Perfect.
—What kind of hybrid are you…? —he murmured, more to himself than to the boy.
The boy didn’t answer.
Of course he didn’t.
He was far too focused on his book to notice that, several yards away, a Harvard student was having an existential crisis.
Wifies swallowed and opened his notebook almost instinctively, taking his pen while continuing to watch the boy.
He wrote:
Species: macaw.
He stared at the sentence for a few seconds before crossing it out.
No.
That wasn’t enough.
Species: macaw hybrid.
He paused, then added underneath:
Location: Central Park.
He looked back at the boy, his eyes following his hair, his feathers, and the calm way he held the book.
Then he wrote one final line:
Behavior: apparently calm.
He thought for a few seconds.
And, almost without realizing it, added:
Pretty colors.
Wifies stared at what he’d just written.
…
He frowned.
—That’s not a scientific observation.
He crossed it out immediately.
The boy turned another page.
Wifies raised his camera again.
Click.
And for the first time since he’d taken up birdwatching as a hobby, Wifies realized something rather concerning.
He wasn’t trying to photograph a bird anymore.
He wanted to see him again.
And apparently, his notes had stopped being scientific too.
Wifies looked down at his notebook once more.
Species: macaw hybrid.
Location: Central Park.
Behavior: apparently calm.
Nothing else.
No proper description of his plumage. No information about his possible species of origin. No observations about his natural behavior.
Nothing that could actually be considered serious research.
Just that.
—Great… —he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. —I’m losing my professionalism.
He couldn’t concentrate.
Standing right in front of him was, objectively, a fascinating anomaly for any bird enthusiast: a macaw hybrid in a city where they were hardly ever seen. A research opportunity he might never encounter again.
He should have been thinking about the species.
Its habitat.
Its possible origins.
Why it was here.
Absolutely anything that could become a decent scientific observation.
But he couldn’t.
Because every time he tried to write another note, his eyes inevitably wandered back toward the bench.
Toward him.
Toward his feathers.
Toward his hair.
Toward the way he calmly turned the pages of his book.
Wifies sighed.
This was going to be a problem.
A huge problem.
Because now he needed to research more about that species.
And, for some reason he preferred not to think about too much…
He also wanted to research more about him.
⧼♡⧽
With a single photograph of the boy, Wifies somehow managed to fill almost five entire pages of his notebook with information.
Or, well… information about his species. That distinction was important. Very important. At least, that was what Wifies told himself.
He spent almost the entire evening sitting at his desk, surrounded by books, research papers, open tabs, and enough bird-related material to make any normal person question his sanity. Apparently, the boy was a Blue-and-yellow Macaw, also known as a Blue-and-gold Macaw. They were native to parts of Central and South America, usually inhabiting forests and areas near rivers or other bodies of water. They were highly social birds, known for forming strong bonds with other individuals, and could live for several decades under proper care. They were also incredibly intelligent, capable of learning and mimicking sounds, solving problems, and developing surprisingly complex behaviors. Their beaks were incredibly powerful too, something Wifies immediately noted in the margin of his notebook: Do not underestimate.
But something didn’t quite add up.
Blue-and-yellow Macaws were, as their name suggested, predominantly blue and yellow. Yet the boy had a striking amount of green in his hair and plumage, mixed with turquoise and other shades Wifies couldn’t quite categorize. He leaned closer to the photograph on his screen, zooming in again and again while comparing it with photographs from different sources.
—That’s not right…
The more he searched, the more fascinated he became. Every answer seemed to create another question, and Wifies loved questions, especially when they involved birds.
He wasn’t going to lie. He spent almost the entire damn night staring at that photograph and rereading every piece of information he could find, hoping that somewhere between scientific articles and obscure birdwatching forums he’d stumble across something that could explain the strange coloring.
Eventually, however, his research took a slightly different direction.
He looked at the photograph again.
At the boy sitting peacefully on the bench.
At his hair.
His feathers.
His face.
Wifies stared for a moment longer.
Maybe there was another thing he could investigate.
Perhaps he could… talk to him.
The thought immediately made his ears perk up. Yes. That was it. If he had the courage, he could simply walk up to him and ask. Politely. Respectfully. Like a normal person. He could introduce himself, explain that he was interested in birds, ask about his species, and—
Wifies stopped.
His face slowly turned red.
That sounded terrifying.
He dropped his head onto his desk before lifting it again a few seconds later with a determined expression.
He could do it.
Probably.
Maybe.
If he had the courage, he could approach him and get to know him personally. That was a perfectly reasonable plan. A completely normal plan.
He just had to find him again tomorrow.
…
Oh.
He should have thought about that.
Wifies stared blankly at the photograph.
He didn’t actually know if the boy came to the park every day. He’d only seen him once. What if yesterday had been a coincidence? What if he never came back?
Wifies checked the time.
His eyes widened.
—Oh, shit.
He hadn’t slept.
Not even a little.
⧼♡⧽
The next morning, Wifies got up, got ready, went to university, and spent the entirety of his classes trying not to look at the clock every thirty seconds. He needed to maintain his grades. He had a reputation to uphold. He was a Harvard student, for God’s sake. He couldn’t simply skip class because he’d discovered a pretty macaw hybrid in a park.
That would be irresponsible.
…He absolutely would have skipped if his grades hadn’t been so important.
The second his final class ended, Wifies practically launched himself out of the building. His camera was already in his hands before he’d even made it down the stairs, and he hurried toward the park with an amount of energy he definitely hadn’t possessed that morning.
He knew exactly where he’d seen him: the same bench, beneath the same trees, in the same spot where he’d spent the previous afternoon pretending he was conducting scientific research while staring at a stranger through a camera lens.
But when he finally arrived, the bench was empty.
Wifies stopped.
His excitement slowly drained away as he stared at the empty seat.
No book.
No green hair.
No colorful feathers.
No mysterious macaw hybrid.
Just an empty bench.
—Oh…
His ears drooped.
Maybe he wouldn’t come today. Maybe yesterday really had been a coincidence.
Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
Traces.
Wifies’s ears perked up again.
Of course.
He was a dog hybrid after all.
He had a sense of smell.
A very good one.
This was exactly the kind of situation his biology had prepared him for.
He hurried toward the bench and crouched down, carefully sniffing around the area. Nothing. He moved closer, checking the edge of the bench, the ground beneath it, and even the nearby tree, but there was still nothing.
—Come on…
He kept searching until something small caught his eye.
A feather.
Wifies froze.
It rested on the ground, delicate and beautiful, catching the sunlight in a way that made its colors shimmer. His eyes widened as he carefully reached down and picked it up, holding it as gently as he possibly could.
It was his.
It had to be.
Wifies stared at the feather in disbelief, then his tail began wagging uncontrollably.
—It’s his.
He looked at it again, practically vibrating with excitement.
—It’s actually his!
He carefully brought it closer, examining every little detail.
It even smelled faintly like him.
Wifies’s eyes widened.
—It smells like him!
He stopped.
There was a long silence.
He slowly lowered the feather.
…Why had he said that out loud?
He decided not to think about it.
He had found evidence. Actual evidence. A physical trace left behind by the mysterious hybrid he’d spent the entire night researching.
This was incredible.
This was—
A small twitch in his ear made him freeze.
Footsteps.
Someone was approaching.
Wifies slowly turned toward the path.
No.
His heart dropped.
There he was.
The boy.
The mysterious macaw hybrid.
The very same one he’d spent the entire night researching.
He was walking toward the bench, completely unaware of the disaster unfolding nearby.
—Oh, shit.
Wifies looked around frantically. Where could he hide? Behind the bench? Too obvious. Behind another tree? Too far.
He spotted a large tree nearby and immediately rushed behind it, pressing himself against the trunk while desperately trying to calm his breathing.
The boy continued walking until he finally reached the bench and sat down as naturally as if nothing unusual had happened. He opened his book and began reading.
Wifies peeked around the tree.
There he was.
He had come back.
He had actually come back.
Wifies’s fingers tightened around the feather before he slowly reached for his camera. He had come all this way. He had found him again.
There was no way he was going to waste this opportunity.
Click.
Another photograph.
Click.
Another.
The boy turned a page.
Click.
Wifies took another picture, his tail wagging behind the tree.
Click.
Another.
Click.
And another.
The boy finally paused.
Wifies froze.
The boy slowly lowered his book and looked around.
Wifies immediately ducked behind the tree.
Silence.
A few seconds passed before the boy eventually looked back down at his book.
Wifies slowly peeked out again.
Safe.
Probably.
He raised the camera once more.
Click.
The boy’s head turned again.
Wifies lowered the camera.
Oh no.
He was going to need a plan.
A real plan.
He couldn’t just walk up to him. What would he even say?
Hi, I’m Wifies. I spent all night researching your species and then smelled your feather.
…
Absolutely not.
That was terrible.
He needed something intelligent. Something casual. Something that would make him look like a perfectly normal person.
Wifies narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He was a Harvard student. He could do this. He had survived exams, research papers, presentations, and countless sleepless nights. He could survive saying hello to one guy.
Probably.
He just needed to think of the perfect opening line.
Unfortunately, his brain had already supplied one.
Hello. Are you a bird?
Wifies closed his eyes and slowly rested his forehead against the tree.
—I’m going to die.
For a few seconds, the only sound he could hear was the quiet rustling of the leaves and the occasional turn of a page.
Then, without lifting his eyes from his book, the boy spoke.
—How much longer are you going to watch me…?
Wifies froze.
Every muscle in his body went completely rigid.
…
What?
His ears slowly lifted.
He hadn’t even noticed.
The boy hadn’t turned around. He was still sitting there, calmly reading his book as if he hadn’t just shattered Wifies’s entire carefully constructed plan.
Wifies stared at him from behind the tree, his grip tightening around the camera.
He knew.
He had known the entire time.
The photographs.
The staring.
The hiding.
Everything.
Wifies swallowed hard.
There was no point hiding anymore.
Slowly, painfully, he stepped out from behind the tree, lowering his camera and carefully putting it away as though that somehow made the situation less embarrassing.
His tail had stopped wagging.
His ears were burning.
He stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do with himself.
The boy finally turned another page.
Wifies cleared his throat.
—Uh…
Brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
Harvard’s finest.
He had spent an entire night researching this boy’s species, followed him around with a camera, hidden behind a tree, and now that he’d finally been discovered, all he could produce was—
—Hi.
…
Excellent.
He was definitely going to die.