The Wail (0.9k) ⛔CWs: referenced harassment, nonsexual nudity
Hawks x Male Loon OC (Kaskel). A quiet moment in near Gora, where a birdsong becomes a question, and showing up is the only answer. A Bonus Features drabble.
I wonder if you know / How it really feels To be left outside alone / When it’s cold out here 📻~ Blind Channel, Left Outside Alone (link)
This far out, the forest was mostly quiet, save for the occasional soothing clack of a shishi-odoshi. Steam rose into the cool evening air, visible over the bamboo fencing and casting a muted veil over the scenery of ancient cedar and a sunset of cool pinks and purple. At the same time, the garden lights bathed the privacy on the other side in warm light. Guilt weighed heavily on Hawks’ chest as he touched down on the dirt path leading up to the cabin, soba bag in hand. He hadn’t meant to be gone so long.
While still piping hot, it wasn’t the yakisoba that had him rushing back. Birds know when they’re called, and it was that sound that brought him back—low, mournful, and painfully lonely. While it wasn’t loud, loons only wailed when they were looking for someone. And Hawks knew better than to avoid a bird in pain.
When he first heard it, he froze. Every covert on his wings lifted slightly at the eerie noise. He’d done enough research on his toy’s quirk to know that sound a bit too well. That sound wasn’t just noise; it was communication. And Hawks—who spent his whole life listening for danger, distress signals, and need—heard it loud and clear: Is anyone out there?
Hawks carefully removed his shoes at the entrance. While he personally has no hang-ups about wearing shoes inside a home, he knew his companion did, and he’d rather not rehash that argument. He paused briefly as that eerie wail washed over him. His heart thudded in his chest as his eyes drifted closed for that moment. I know.
He set the takeout down on the table as he padded across the tatami and through the small private cabin. He hadn’t planned to bring anyone. This cabin was meant to be a solo retreat—quiet, clean, and uncomplicated as he replenished. But when he saw Kaskel surrounded, accosted, and accused, and the young man tremolo in panic, the damage was clearly deeper than bruised pride.
Quietly, Hawks slid open the screen and stepped out into the garden, trying to move as quietly as possible. He let out a silent breath and leaned against one of the posts with a warm smile.
Kaskel was sitting in the onsen. His knees were drawn to his chest, and his arms were wrapped around them. While it was surprising to see that he did not cover his vitiligo-mottled skin, he was very traditional in his practices. Not wearing clothing was proper etiquette, so it was equally unsurprising to see a little bit of his dappled back above the water.
Incidentally, the young man was also the source of the loud call that caught his attention. He appeared to be humming some tune that reminded Hawks of a low shakuhachi melody. It could be something entirely made up, or something Kaskel remembered—Hawks wouldn’t know. But where Hawks was hearing a birdsong calling to him, Kaskel seemed just to be making a sound without even realizing he was doing it.
It seemed like a comforting little habit, and Hawks wasn’t keen to end his self-soothing. He listened. For several beats, he watched the young heteromorph and let those sounds wash over him. To experience the way they tugged at his very being in ways he hadn’t expected.
“You know,” Hawks began warmly, finally making his presence known. “Loons only make that sound when they’re looking for someone.”
Kaskel flailed in an exaggerated startle response before finally turning towards the hero. “What?”
“That call. That wail. It’s not just a noise,” Hawks informed with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s a locator. It says, ‘I’m here, but where are you?’”
“I…,” Kaskel looked away, muttering. “I was just humming.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hawks said softly, straightening. “But I heard you. And I came.”
Kaskel was quiet, seeming to hold his knees tighter while his waterproof wings folded tightly against his back. Hawks knew he wasn’t used to being found. Not like this. Not without asking, or performing.
And for once, the hero would make the effort to meet him on his level.
Quickly, he stripped down, tossing his clothes onto a nearby decorative rock before stepping into the onsen alongside the loon-quirked man. He kept a respectable distance, knowing that they really weren’t that close. Though, recently, he’d come to find that maybe that wasn’t how he wanted things to be—he just wasn’t sure how Kaskel felt about their situation. Would something as simple as friendship be possible?
“Motherfucker, did you just get in this onsen without bathing?” Kaskel chided.
“I had a shower before I left,” Hawks shrugged.
“That was like three hours ago! Do you have any idea-”
“Kas,” Hawks tone was firm enough to shut down the argument. This wasn’t the hill to die on right now, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything rigorous. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to sing for anyone else. But, if you ever want to sing for me…? I’ll always come.”
This wasn’t a transaction. Not anymore; at least not to Hawks. He had promised he wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t even sleep in the same room. This was simply quiet—a place to breathe. To think and be himself.
