Wingtalia. Story below!
The hero is down. Beaten. Somewhere in an cold filthy, ally.
All he knew was that his back was in agonizing pain. His eyes too swollen, Mr. Alfred can’t open his eyes. He slowly tries to at least move his fingers. They slowly reply to his pleding. Alfred touches his back, it’s wet.
Why is it wet?
Why does it smell like iron?
A sudden relization hit him. He tried to flap his golden wings only to get a shot of pain through his spine.
The bastards! Those fucking bastards!
T-there’s no way.
They got him.
His…his wings have been chopped off.
All that his throbbing fingers can feel is lumps that were his wings.
A lot of blood.
What type of god foresaken hero is he that he can’t even defend himself? What’s the point of even getting up? They should have fini- and Alfred passes out again.
After a month being in the hospital, after many vists from different countries, after many get well cards, meaningless balloons, sad smiles, and flowers, he could finally leave. He tried to get over himself. He wished that the doctors could have removed the rest of his useless wings. Alfred walks down the white hall. His footsteps echoing behind him. Alfred walks through the exit.
Finally. Alfred took a deep breath.
He missed being outside.
The smell of the trees.
The over-bareing sun.
The stupid fucking birds singing as they fly from tree to tree.
Has he stooped so low that he’s envious of some god damn pigeons?
Blinded by the sun, deaf by the birds, he keeps walking down the path from the hospital.
Alfred tries to stop himself from throwing a rock at those damn birds by streaching his arms towards the sky.
Without even noticing he stares at the sun, his vision fading to white.
“I’ll never be able to fly agian.”
His arms still up, he tries to grab the sky. A tear falling down his face. It could either be of his depression, or staring at the sun.
He didn’t give a damn.
Ah, the sound of wings in the sky.
“Uph!” Alfred’s hands suddenly have a hold of something.
He slowly felt the ground skid away from him and his weight being pulled by gravity.
His eyes trying to see what has him, still blinded he can see something black.
“Alfred-san. I told you to wait for me inside.”
Oh, it’s Kiku.
Alfred doesn’t say anything and just blankly stares up to Kiku’s beautiful wings.
“Alfred-san? I don’t want to be out of place but, any time you want, I’ll take you to touch the sky. So you can feel the cold wind on your face. To not be around the awful people that you need to fly away from. To feel free again. Any time Alfred-san. I’ll be here for you.” Kiku looks down to see Alfred crying. At first Kiku felt awful, like he made things worse. He could feel Alfred’s hands tremble as they tighten their grip on him.
This was a horrible idea.
Then Kiku hears,
“I FUCKING LOVE YOU KEEKS” followed by the sweet laughter that has never been herd before.
That was not the normal forced laugh. Nor was it the nervous, scared, excited, or polite laugh.
It was a laugh filled with relief.
And if you listened more intently, love.
(This is waaaaaay longer than I was expecting. My thumbs hurt. Sorry for the crappy ff. And my awful grammar)