winged/avian!AU (CW body horror) where neil wasn't born with wings but lola takes someone else's and sews them onto neil--meticulously stitching the nerves of his upper back and spine into the wings. so, the wings aren't his, something forcibly put upon him that he cannot get rid of, but they force him to feel
maybe he tries to claw them off or tear them off, but cutting through your whole back's worth of nerves causes quite a bit of pain: he always passes out, not being able to complete the job
so when he meets andrew, the junction of where his wings and back meet aren't smooth and silky like it is for others, it's jagged and scarred: deeply rooted into the skin. maybe with andrew and his careful, thoughtful touches, he learns to feel from his wings without guilt, shame or anger burning the back of his throat.
maybe he's never preened before, never wanted to and was never offered. maybe he kept his wings in bad condition and out of sight as a sort of punishment for himself, for taking those wings from that person lola stole them from. maybe his mom had told him he didn't deserve to preen; that it was a waste of time
maybe andrew asks if he wants him to preen neil's wings for him, and neil just tilts his head in question. he never needed to, it was a waste of time--so why try? but the tips of andrew's ears are blushing and neil says yes
maybe with andrew's help, neil finally learns to trust and to love his own body: what comes with being neil josten.
neil's been tortured and hurt all his life--that's evident from the scars littering his body and the wings that rest on his back. rest is a stretch, more like they sit uncomfortably tucked between the blades, stiffly.
andrew knows neil's wings are not his own; something lola had forced upon his body. something forced on him without his say. andrew knows a thing or two about how that feels.
every time any neil's feather falls or even is within the view of neil: he flinches. a short tick of his jaw, a slight widening of his eyes, andrew's studied the reactions, turned it over and over in his mind: trying to figure out what he can do about it. the state of his wings are horrid: old feathers not properly preened sticking painfully into others, poking skin and irritating underlying tissue. it makes andrew's own wings itch at just the sight of them.
one day he caves to his own desires, he asks neil if he could preen his wings for him. he knows the act is vulnerable, it's an incredible act of trust and an act of service between lovers. he doesn't know if neil knows that, andrew won't tell him. but if it's a choice neil declines, it is one andrew would accept
neil says yes, confusion evident but apparently more curious than scared: he bares his back and stretches his wings up to the max, presenting. it makes andrew's face warm and hands twitch; he doesn't know if neil knows what he's doing or if it's instinctual--he doesn't know which option is better or worse.
he spends his time carefully slowly dragging his fingers through the feathers. he appreciates the contrast of the firey red petals and his pale skin. he gently pulls out old feathers and adjusts new ones into their proper place. neil's glowing like this, illuminated from the warm lighting of the afternoon sun and with andrew's fingers lingering on his back
andrew has his own fair share of trauma with wings: both the ones on his back and with having one infront of him, but when he's with neil like this, he thinks maybe it was all worth it, if it all added up to the chances of this moment happening.