When Sunday calls Welt „ Father“ in the middle of their breakfast by accident, it completely pulls the floor from underneath him. Mortified by the mistake, he crashes hard into a whirlwind of anxiety. His breath becomes heavy, his hands tremble as memories of a darker past threaten to swallow him whole once more and just then when it feels like he is fluttering his wings for the last time with a panicked heart a heavy hand on his shoulder pulls him back. The terror of his eyes cross the calm red seas of Mr. Yangs.
„I didn’t mean to.“, he mumbles before he gets pulled against the older man to feel warmth and pressure against his own cold sweat and trembling.
„Breathe. It’s okay, Sunday. You are safe.“, his low voice grounds the poor winged boy.
His breathing calms, eyelids shut as his head leans heavy on the steady shoulder, wings still trembling, brushing against his clothes with the sound of quiet rustling leaves. There are no more words exchanged as he gets guided back to their quarters, a hand clutching to the older mans wrist when they stop in front of sundays room.
A light red tint lays on Sundays cheeks and ears, hidden by his gently shaken wings as he begs Welt silently to not be abandoned for his mistake.
A soft sigh leaves the older mans throat before he locks his fingers with him, taking him to his own quarters instead. Once inside he helps him out of the outer layer of his clothes before pulling him onto his lap, just holding him with his head resting on the pale ash hair while Sunday holds onto a small soft dove plush he always has gravitated too when he visited Welts room, pressed against his chest, wedged under his chin.
They stay like this until the tension of his body finally subsides, leaving him melting in Welts arms. He holds him in silence. The room filled with their calm breathing as well as the rustling of pages as Welt read quietly while holding him, not minding the nuzzling and light shifting here and there while he let him rest.
He couldn’t deny that their relationship had changed in the past weeks. He had noticed the lingering gaze of the young man. The way he orbited around him and calmed down whenever they were close. Yet he had never expected for Sunday to call him that out of all things. Not that it was a surprise with his past life by all means, but it still made Welt question his life choices. He should not foster this dependency… nor the way Sunday had become familiar with his quarters more than his own. He had sworn the times their lips had met and bodies tangled was more so driven by juvenile desires and nothing serious to consider but the longer it went on, the more he craved for this enticing dance of comfort and intimacy too.
But despite his own shortcomings, he never wanted Sunday to fall for him, nor see him distressed like that ever again.
#weltday #sunwelt
imagining feofan being as blind as a bat when he takes off his glasses so whenever they have sex he actually can’t really tell which segment it was without touching here and there
Not quite sure on the projecting part bc I've never projected my WHOLE personality onto a character but I do use pieces of myself when applicable to get the emotions more accurate