The date on the newspaper is two years ahead of the last day he was here. Two years, he's been gone. It feels like an eternity less and infinitely more.
He's still bearing the scars of his time in the research prison. He'll never fly again. His wing is dead. There are incision scars, a large 'Y' on his chest that speaks of being opened up to see what made him tick. There are iron earrings studding his ears, thick cuffs on his wrists. They don't hurt anymore. He could take them off, but what's the point?
Nobody glances at him as he passes by, which is fine. He always wanted to slip into the background. There's still healing bruises across his face and neck, even after staying to help distribute the PAKs to the other Dibs.
He's bone-deep weary. He's ready to go home and curl up in his own bed and relish being safely back among his own things.
He notes as he approached his house looks the same as it always did. That makes him feel a little comforted. A little bit happier. He walks up to the door and hesitates. Should he knock? It's his own house but it feels so alien…
The door opens before he can finish contemplating.
Gaz stares at him from the other side of the threshold. Her eyes are wide. She's grown, now taller than him and just growing into herself, beautiful in a way only the way a fairy can be. He's not sure about her reaction.
After a moment of staring, she grabs his hand and pulls him inside, the door shutting behind him with an ominous click.
"Where have you been?" Gaz demands in a flat voice. He still can't read her.
"... Kidnapped." Dib whispers with a shaky voice. Kidnapped and imprisoned and tortured. He shrugs off his coat and goes to hang it up, hearing a gasp behind him.
He can't reach the coat hanger. He forgot that he needs to hover to get it up there.
Tears prick at his eyes but he forcefully fights them back. He's done enough crying.
"Your wing." Gaz mutters as Dib just drops the trenchcoat on the floor.
"... Yeah." Dib whispers in a choked voice.
"Well, at least mine are prettier now." His sister hums, and he hears her footsteps walking away.
He shouldn't have hoped for anything different.
Dib shoves his hands in his pockets. It's nice to have actual clothes instead of being stuck in a hospital gown.
He turns and heads deeper into the house, finding the door to the lab and heading downstairs.
There's his Dad, wings folded under his labcoat (a labcoat that reminds him of things he'd rather forget) and working on some experiment or other. Dib walks up to him, standing next to him for a moment before trying to get Dad's attention.
Nothing. He doesn't even look up.
"... Dad?" Dib tries again, reaching up to tug on a sleeve of the coat.
His Dad glances down at him. "What do you need?"
Dib's brow furrows in confusion. "I'm back…"
"Back from where?" Dad asks casually as he turns back to his project.
Dib's heart sinks. No, there's no way… "Dad, I got kidnapped. I've been gone for two years!" His wings flick as if to emphasize his point, the dead one much slower than the other since it's only being dragged along.
Dib can't really tell behind the goggles, but Dad's head tilts in a direction that suggests he's looking at the dead wing. "Fascinating…" He mutters. "How did that happen?"
"My… my wing? It got cut off! Did… did you even notice I was gone?" His heart is in his shoes at this point.
"Well, I've been very busy." His Dad deflects, hand reaching for Dib's wing. "Now let me see that, I want to get a closer look."
"No!" Dib yelps, scrambling back and nearly falling over. There are so many emotions rushing through him (Daddidn'tevennoticegazissmugmychesthurtsnomoretests) that he can't process them all at once.
He does the only thing he can, and bolts out of the lab, tears starting to prick at his eyes again. No, no, no… he was gone two years and nobody cares. His own family doesn't give a crap that he went to hell and back and came out damaged and broken.
He scoops up his trenchcoat and heads up the stairs, entering his bedroom and locking the door.
Alone. He's all alone, all over again.
He lets the tears fall, flopping onto his dusty bed and coughing slightly. He's surrounded by familiar comforts that are almost frightening after the spartan, sterile prison cell. There's no low hum of voices and sobs and pain. It's almost too quiet.
He shivers and gathers his blanket around himself.
Gaz noticed he was gone, he tells himself desperately. Gaz noticed… and… and she didn't care.
He was so caught up on getting out of that hell and going home that he forgot home was its own kind of hell.
He pulls off his glasses and wipes at his eyes. Stupid tears. Hasn't he suffered enough? Shouldn't he be done crying?
Why does his chest hurt so much?
The latest dibvoid ficlet, featuring Fairy! @islandguardiantapumeme
