Broken Paper Birds

 He woke up in bed.

Had everything... been a dream? Dray slowly pushed himself up, the throb in his shoulder the only thing bothering him as he looked around a room that felt... off. The smell of breakfast filled his nose, chatter bouncing through the door, normal.

Had Mum or Dad moved him from the bathroom...? Couldn’t remember. The fever was gone, though. He felt perfectly fine.

Should I... feel perfectly fine?

Rubbing his arms, Dray shook his head, throwing open the curtain across the window. A flicker of feathers and beady eyes exploded back, warm little chest fluttering, beak open in a shrill chirp—

His head smacked into the glass.

"Ughk!" He reeled back, hand plastered across his nose, hissing. Kritz— stupid niffing bird, stupid niffing window.

He saw it cling to a vine spilling down another house across the shared garden, twisting its head to look at him like he was the stupid one. Which he was. For smacking into a niffing window. His lip relaxed; hadn't even realised it'd curled.

Why did I...?

He flexed his hands, watching the tendons slip like plucked strings under his skin, faint, normal veins wriggling. It looked... strange. So transparent. Bare.

A twinge of nausea crawled up the back of his throat, the tips of fingers that just didn't look right shaking faintly.

He tore his eyes away, glancing up to see a face in a dark window peering back at him, and twitched, throwing out a belated smile and lifting a hand. It just stared. Unblinking.

His hand slowly fell. Swallowing, he left before those eyes could bore a hole through him, the stare itching at his back the whole way until he escaped through the door, clicking it shut behind him. Kind of stupid to do that, but. A shudder prickled up his spine, lifting harsh goosepimples along his forearms.

Glowing sickly-yellow eyes peering out a dark window flashed to mind, and he tucked his arms around himself, leaning back against the door for a moment. Nothing. It was nothing. He hadn't seen anything like that. Just... just a normal face.

Something about it had seemed... wrong, though. Thought he knew most of the people around here, but, couldn't recognise them. He abruptly realised he didn't even know if it'd been a woman or a man's face. Couldn't remember.

Don’t feel right. Don't feel right. He shivered, rubbing sweaty palms against his shirt, swallowing with a dry click that hurt his throat. Better to just forget about it and get brekk-cakes. A throb spearing from the bite to a pit in his chest had him gritting his teeth, stumbling down the hallway towards the smell of golden crispy batter and chatting voices, hand gripping his shoulder.

Forcing it away as the table came into view, he managed to fit a smile on his face. He had to force it to stay there as they turned, eyes locking onto him.

...Had the strangest feeling for a second that he didn't recognise them. Strangers, sitting at a familiar table, beady stares watching.

"Dray?"

He blinked and it was gone. Nothing. Stupid.

Belatedly picking up feet he hadn't realised were rooted down, he broke out a grin that hopefully looked okay, ruffling Atia's hair. It was her face that squinched at him, mouth full of cream and bubbleberries with a side of brekk-cake. Same little swoop-jump nose and almost-dimples.

I'm going crazy.

"Handler to Dray."

Dad's smile met him as he twitched, a steaming plate piled high held out. "Managed to save you a few. It's a guess, but I'm sure that should be enough."

He blinked at it, forcing himself into the present and throwing out a crooked smile. "Could do with a couple extra."

Dad laughed, just as another set of feet thumped up, and he twisted around to see Erold charge in.

His little brother stared at the stacked plate, bursting out, "Are those the last ones?"

Dray stared back for a half-second. And cracked out a half-grin. "Yep. Too late."

"Niff!" Erold wound up as if he planned to snatch half the stack straight off, and Dray twitched back—

Dad saved both of them by producing another plate out of thin air with a chuckle. "He’s only digging hollows. Here's yours."

Erold breathed an over-dramatic sigh of relief, taking it and plonking down at his spot with a sideways, strange look at Dray.

...Did I do something? Am I doing something weird?

Why does all of this feel... wrong?

"Are you gonna eat that standing up?"

Dray blinked. Ah. Yeah, being weird, but in a normal way. Probably. Sitting down, he reached for the crinkle-roots and granola Mum must've put out. Had... had they been there before?

He could sense Erold still side-eyeing him. "You uh, okay?"

"Just a little spacey." He threw out a smile. "What's the special occasion for the brekk-cakes, anyway?" Taking a closer look at Dad, he belatedly realised he wasn't in the normal clothes he wore to work. Now that he paid attention, everyone looked like they planned to stay inside today. "You're not going out?"

Mum exchanged a quick look with Dad that made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, the casual air in the room shifting a couple degrees sideways. "We didn’t want to leave you here alone. Besides, none of us slept that well last night. I've already signed for a day off courses."

"We caught the same flu you did," Atia cheerfully declared, "so we all get to stay home together!"

He butted her head with a hand, smiling crookedly, trying to ignore the prickling sense of something off. "Yeah you better hope you didn't. This flu's a kritzer."

Dad cleared his throat. "Speaking of, how are you feeling?"

He fiddled with his wrists, offering a shrug. "Last night was pretty weird. I feel weird. I don't—" he took a deep breath and shoved it out "—I don't know if I'll make it past tonight."

"You could," Erold argued. "You don't look that bad. I mean, yeah, there were some weird things, but you're acting fine now."

He tried a smile. "Maybe. I... kind of.”

Dad gazed at him, smiling, unblinking. “Could you describe what feels off, maybe?”

He opened his mouth, and closed it again with a hard swallow, looking anywhere but that face, lines creasing it like grease-paper and folding around bright eyes. “Everything.”

“‘Everything’ is possibly too general. Anything specific like pain or strange sensations? Behaviour?”

“He hasn’t tried to hug the life out of us yet,” Erold said loudly. "Is that good or bad?"

“...Behaviour?” A bird on the windowsill.... Dray swallowed again, his appetite abruptly fleeing for the ruins, their voices fading into a drone as he dug at the itching fabric piled around his elbows. Too tight, too scratchy. Like his skin knew he wouldn’t be one of them anymore, soon, that he’d be someone who looked human, but wasn't. Who didn’t behave like a human.

They are. They are human. He swallowed. Just... just with something else, too.

"Dray?"

Mum's softer voice broke in. He lifted his head to eyes watching him, a faint pulse in Erold's pale neck, Mum blinking, her mouth slackening as muscles in her throat moved; the beat of a heart in his ears that didn't... line up with his own.

His skin crawled up over his shoulders as he opened his mouth. He could smell/taste warmth, and something about it made him want to gag. "What?"

"Whatever happens, you should be able to stay here." Her mouth curved up at the corners, muscles slipping along her eyelids, crinkling the edges faintly. "It is Dragon's Crown. I think everyone would turn a blind eye to any strange sounds."

Strange sounds. His fingers twitched, making taut tendons flicker under his skin. Couldn't really swallow. "I'll... maybe I'll talk to Stov. You sure you'd want me around when...."

When I....

Movement. His head snapped up, catching green-grey eyes staring back at him, pausing halfway out of a chair. Something cold and uncertain crept into the warmth, crawling out of the shadows as a cloud drifted across the sun outside.

He turned away, puffing the scent off his tongue, and smiled at Dad. "Maybe we should ask Uncle Ment. You talked to him yesterday."

What's wrong with me what's wrong with me oh Ley what's wrong with me—

Every stiff muscle under the rough skin of Dad’s face smoothed, almost mechanically. "I did. Most of which was on the subject of why we should turn you in. Which I don't agree with."

He couldn't help but half-consciously follow the movement slipping behind him in the corner of his eye, feeling his shoulders tighten. A hand slowly reached forward.... "He knows this stuff though. What if he's right. About... the danger."

"His point was that stressed newbites can be volatile...."

A gentle touch caught his shoulder before he could open his mouth, Mum's hand rubbing softly at taut muscles.

He shuddered, abruptly slumping like a puppet with its strings cut, shoving a knuckle against his teeth and punching back a twist in his chest before it could slip out. "I-I— Oh Light what's wrong with me."

"...Maybe you are acting a little weird." Erold looked like he didn't know if he wanted to scoot away or reach out.

The concern twisting his face, 'Tia's wide eyes watching, yanked on the brekk-cakes sitting heavy in Dray's gut, and his hands shook, teeth threatening to chatter. "N-no hollows."

"It's alright," Mum murmured, her right thumb working gently at the back of his neck. "It's alright, don't worry over it."

He tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. "I just freaked everyone out."

"It's alright. It happens to everyone, especially after a terrible night."

Mum's hands kept massaging gently, knitting his crawling, shivering skin back together, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't think I should stay here. I don't want to hurt anyone."

They were silent for a moment. Nobody denied that he might hurt someone. "We can see how you feel later. Things might get better."

He doubted it. Dragging in a deep breath, he tried to claw some hint of normal back after he'd just shattered it to pieces. It didn't really work.

He had a feeling it never would again.