When he was gifted his wings it was painful. Unlike any pain he had ever felt.
He could never forget how excruciating it was to feel them growing beneath his skin until they burst out. He could never forget how much blood there had been afterwards. The bleeding was constant for days.
The others had always sworn that it was normal, yet when he saw the other recently gifted, they were fine.
The pain never fully went away. There was always a stinging when he flew or his wings brushed against something.
He had been told it would be fine.
He had been told it would heal in hours.
He had been told that everyone else was going through or had gone through the exact same thing.
What bullshit.
How pathetic did they have to be? To lie to a child?
He just wished that never would have happened.
His wings even still hurt while he preened them. After nearly twenty years. And what did he get? More lies. More people saying he was lying.
He hated himself for falling for their lies, even if he had just been a kid. He guessed some part of him had just wanted something positive to be able to believe. Maybe he never fully believed it himself.
He remembered neglecting his wings for the first few months. Someone else would do it for him, and most of the time they would not be gentle.
He had fallen back into that habit after he was old enough to leave, then the habit left after he realized it only made things worse.
Well, that's what he wished. He really never liked just leaving them, but when they hurt that much he couldn't bring himself to touch his wings, he wouldn't.
For years after he left he was alone. There were people that were kind and people who had offered to help when they had seen the state of his wings. He was still alone.
Sometimes he wanted to get rid of them. Chop them off or something. Those were just thoughts though. Nothing he could ever be brave enough to act upon.
His wings had been in great condition when he had joined that server, but good things never last and his wings soon were filthy.
The players on that server had noticed and asked about it, saying he could talk to them if he needed. He never did. He thought it was all fake.
Then he joined their next season, and he felt closer to certain players. He didn't think he could call them his friends yet.
His wings never got particularly bad that season. He had only neglected them for a week at most before he was able to preen them properly.
The season after that was when his wings got really bad. They were so bad that he had shut himself inside for weeks without coming out. He had told his friends that it was just some nasty cold, and they had just given him soup and get well soon gifts.
Every now and again he would muster up the energy to start preening, but never really finished.
When he finally stepped out of his house, his wings had looked fine enough from the outside, and none of the village members questioned it. They just said that they were glad that his cold was gone.
Now it was the beginning of the season after, and he couldn't bring himself to stop welling in his thoughts and he couldn't take care of himself.
Only one person had noticed. One he had grown particularly fond of and close with. When he had asked about the wings, and why the avian looked a mess, he had just broken down.
He let his friend preen his wings, and they didn't hurt as much. He had been thorough and hadn't missed a single spec of dirt. It had taken a significantly long amount of time, but the friend had insisted that he was fine with it.
He loved his friend, more than he thought friends could love one another. He couldn't tell what his feelings were, but he didn't really mind it.
Grian was happy.
Grian was cared for.
And, most importantly, Grian's wings were clean.