Birdhouse

There’s a naked boy in Levi's back garden. He is unsure of when or how he got there; all he knows is he awoke this morning to find a nude boy collapsed in his garden only metres away from his gnome, Gary. Peeking warily from his kitchen window, Levi inspects him curiously. The boy appears to be lying on some sort of blanket and is clearly inebriated beyond consciousness. He’s most likely come from the house party a few streets down – a stumbling, disoriented drunk. Levi reluctantly opens the back door and, still clad in his pyjamas, angrily but skeptically approaches the boy. As he nears him, it is only then he realises the blanket underneath the boy is actually a pair of thin, dishevelled wings. It must have been a costume party he had attended. Although it’s odd – the boy doesn’t look like a drunk or your typical party animal. His features are cute and pretty, almost baby-like. Loose, brunet ringlets spiral from his scalp and long lashes graze above his rosy cheeks. Full, coral lips are parted ever-so slightly as he breathes, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Skin smooth and unblemished, his sun-kissed complexion gives him a healthy glow. Lanky arms are splayed amidst the blades of grass beneath him to present his narrow torso. Although slim, soft pudge accumulates at his hips and stomach. Innocence practically radiates off him in waves. Levi nudges him lightly in the ribs with his foot. “Wake up.” He doesn’t respond. Levi kicks him harder.  “Oi. Nudey.” Again, no response. The nude boy doesn’t smell of booze. He smells of a mixture of pine and earth. Maybe he’s not even drunk…maybe he’s injured? Levi decides, for this reason alone, that he should help him. Scooping the boy up in his arms, he carries him into the house. The boy’s head tips back but he seems peaceful. Levi tries not to overthink the fact that he is holding a naked, unconscious, possibly underage boy in his arms as they head into his living room. Carefully, he lowers the boy onto the sofa, nose scrunching in disgust when his hand accidentally skims a skinny, bare ass. Levi reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over the boy’s body to keep him warm and modest, before retreating into the kitchen. The kettle is flicked on and five minutes later he returns to the still-passed-out boy, cup of tea in hand. Shaking him lightly with his free hand, he tries to wake him but, once again, proves unsuccessful. Sighing to himself, Levi places the mug on the table beside the boy’s head, stalking out of the room. Midday is approaching and the sun is streaking through the blinds, casting lined stripes of light to dance along the freckled wood of his piano as Levi plays. Fingers glide along the yellowed keys, they pause to scribble down a note or two onto the scrunched paper resting in his lap, and return to the instrument. This routine continues. In the process of scrawling down a melody, Levi halts abruptly at the sound of a loud crash reverberating through the house. Pencil dropping to the floor, Levi shoots up from his seat and races out to discover the source of the noise. He enters the living room to witness the boy cowering in the corner, hands held outwards in a defensive gesture. His eyes are wild with fright. Levi's gaze drifts to the shattered mug on the floor, brown liquid seeping into the carpet. “Ah, man,” he sighs, “I liked that mug.” He takes a step towards him.  The boy instantly straightens his trembling arms, hands level with his face. “Stay back!” “Oh well, no need to cry over spilt milk, init.” Levi smirks to himself at his pun. The boy’s forehead creases in confusion. “I do not understand.” Levi takes another step forward. The boy presses his body as close to the wall as possible. “I mean it! Stay back!” Levi automatically holds his arms up in surrender. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, dude. You were passed out in my garden so I took you in. s**t, kid, you must be hungover as hell.” Laughter whistles softly through his nose. The boy’s head shakes furiously, curls bouncing as he does so. His eyes squint shut in confusion. “I am not hung over anything! I am on stable ground!” Levi's expression is flat. “Ha. Funny.” His gaze involuntarily flicks below the waist. He recoils. “And for the love of God, please cover yourself!” The boy ignores his remark, seemingly unfazed at his exposed body. As he stares Levi down warily, his muscles are still conspicuously tense. Twisting himself around slightly, he tries to hide against the wall. At this new angle, Levi manages to catch sight of the wings still attached to his back, drooping lazily over his shoulder blades like that of a wounded bird. “Costume party, eh?” One corner of Levi's mouth twitches up into a half-smile. He hopes small talk will make the boy feel more at ease.  It seems to work; he grows visibly less frightened. Although his body relaxes a little, he still has his guard up. “I do not understand…”  Levi gestures his hand towards the boy’s back, taking one subtle step closer to him. “Costume party,” he repeats slowly as if explaining something to a toddler, “A party…where you…wear a costume…” The boy instantly whips his head around to inspect his wings. His face falls as he reaches out to gently stroke an ivory feather with his thumb and forefinger. The second his flesh makes contact, the feather fragments. It curls into flakes of black ash and disintegrates onto the carpet. Expression alert with panic, his naked chest rises and falls rapidly. “No, no, no, no, please, no.” “Buddy, I don’t know how you’re doing that, but you’re ruining my–” The boy continues to touch the feathers, the same fate awaiting them as his dainty fingers skim each one.  “–can you not? My carpet!” Once again, the boy ignores his comment and exhales shakily. “I need to rip them out. Please help me?” The broken expression cracking his features renders Levi more perplexed than ever, but nevertheless, he nods and complies. The boy gradually retreats from his huddled position in the corner and approaches Levi cautiously like a timid fawn. He turns his back to him and Levi grips onto each wing with both hands. His fingers curl around the base. Taking a deep breath, he harshly rips them towards him. What he is not expecting, however, is for the boy’s back to arch and for him to scream out in agony. The wings tear from his skin and he crumbles to the ground. Levi stands speechless with a pair of wilted, dying wings in his bloodied hands. He observes the boy, head buried into his hands as he sobs, and Levi nearly chokes on his own saliva when he sees the large, jagged scar now adorning his once-smooth skin. Blood is pooling from the raw wounds but is yet to surface and overflow.  “Jesus Christ…” Levi mutters, “What…those are – were – those were real. Real wings. Like real, actual wings attached to your back…what the f**k? What…the f**k?” The boy continues to weep. “I have been banished! I did not know – I did not think they would actually do it – I – no! This was not my fault!” Awkwardly, Levi crouches beside him in his attempts to comfort the crying boy. “Kid, calm down…and seriously, please cover yourself with something. My poor, virgin eyes are burning.” Head shooting up, he observes Levi's face through pink-rimmed eyes. “You do not sound hurt. Your eyes look okay – I am sorry! I do not want to hurt you! I do not want to make them burn, I am sorry!” Levi's brow wrinkles in befuddlement. “What are you talking about?” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he glances at the boy’s back wounds. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?” The unnamed boy whimpers through the fingers pressed to his face. “I…I am a Fallen.”