Chapter Text
Wilbur's vision blinks in and out of focus, a loud fuzzy feeling thick and sluggish pounding in his head and ears ringing with a high pitched whine.
He can't move, can't seem to move any of his limbs.
Wilbur blinks slowly, staring up at the bloody orange sky blankly, watching his father Phil fly down towards him.
He sees his face streaming with tears, mouth wide in an agonised scream Wilbur just can't hear as the blond man crashes down just out of his view, before scrambling over to the brunet.
It all rushes in at once, and suddenly Wilbur starts screaming as excruciating pain rips through him like a dull sword all through his form.
His wings, his beautiful feathered chestnut wings he so proudly keeps perfect and strong are smashed up and bleeding horrendously, those thin shards of bone now exposed and torn up feathers and membrane.
They're spread like a twisted masterpiece, light spasms twitching them painfully.
Wilbur's legs and right arm are bent wrong and bloody; the young male can feel his bones shattered, ribs splintered and puncturing his lungs. The juvenile elytrian is still screaming somehow, arching his broken back from the ground, the horrible sound rippling off the mountainside and bouncing down the valley.
Several of the people they live near snap their heads up to the higher area with collective shock and horror.
Phil sobs as he cradles his son's face, heart wrenching at the heaving wails that rack the younger and the sight of his destroyed wings blowing uselessly in the thin air.
He knows deep down Wilbur isn't going to survive this and he hates that.
"PHIL!" Wilbur cries brokenly, caramel eyes unfocused but wide with pain, tears slipping down his cheeks.
"DAD! PHIL I-IT HURTS SO MUCH FU-UCK!"
He starts coughing hard, blood rising from his punctured lungs and leaking out of his mouth.
Wilbur shudders as his dad cradles his dying body, strangled breaths wheezing in his lungs.
They'd only been having fun in the clouds, flying together for father/son bonding time.
Wilbur was messing around like usual, carefully but joyously flying up and doing loops in the air when suddenly a strong gust of wind ripped through the sky and caught Wilbur off balance.
He flapped his wings quickly and calmly to try and right himself, just like Phil had taught him to do, but the wind roughed up his pretty wings and pinned them in place, stopping his movement.
Wilbur started yelling in fear as he stopped moving and started to plummet, thrashing in the air to try and right himself as the mountainside rushed up to meet him, screaming for help.
Phil, no matter how fast he dove, couldn't reach him in time.
Wilbur smacked into the hard granite at high speed with an ugly crunch, before rolling and dropping off the side of the clifface another ten metres until he crashed into the ground.
It was unlucky he survived the fall, since his last moments were so full of agony and stress.
Wilbur's breathing starts to slow down, and Phil starts rambling, stroking his face tenderly as Wilbur struggles to keep his eyes open and heart functioning, saying "Nononononononono, Will please stay awake mate! C'mon songbird you'll be alright, please don't leave me..."
The younger chokes, coughing up more blood before giving Phil one last pained dimpled smile.
"Tell T-Tommy I'll miss h-h-him. I'm so s-sorry dad. L-Love you..."
Wilbur's body shudders and his head lolls back, the light dying from his eyes as he falls limp in Phil's arms. He lets out a soft sigh as the pain finally dissappears.
Phil pulls his son's body closer and presses his lips to his forehead, letting out a muffled howl of despair. He rocks him as grief overwhelms him, his own large wings wrapping around them both. He faintly registers footsteps pounding up the mountain, and hears the worried voice of Jack, the resident blazeborne.
"Phil we could hear Wilbur screaming, what hap-"
He stops instantly and exclaims in horror when he sees one of Wilbur's broken wings laid out on the ground, streaked with blood, bones poking out between feathers. His blaze rods start shifting faster around him as he carefully walks closer and sees the rest of Wilbur's body.
"Christ-Phil. Will's..."
Phil's voice is watery and broken as he clutches Wilbur's body closer.
"Th-The wind c-c-caught him. He smacked into the fucking mountain. H-He's dead."
Phil starts screaming again.
"HE'S FUCKING DEAD! MY SON IS DEAD, AND I COULDN'T SAVE HIM!!! M-MY SON..."
He breaks down, sobbing harder as Jack kneels down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, tears brimming in his eyes as he looks at his friend's body. Down the mountain, everyone has gathered in the village centre, dead silent as they look up. They could hear all of it; Wilbur screaming in agony, Phil begging him to stay, then that horrible silence. And now screaming again.
Everyone was crying.
Wilbur was gone.
And he wasn't going to come back.
With the help of Ranboo, a teenage enderian who threw a pearl and teleported up to where they were, the distraught father and his friends bring Wilbur down to the village. Tubbo flew away with Tommy to collect flowers for the funeral, travelling far before Tommy collapsed to his knees and started to cry in the middle of the field, Tubbo hugging him tight and burying his head into the avian's shoulder, bee wings buzzing sadly.
Ranboo went to her cave and gathered her amythest crystals for decoration, one of the only selfless acts she's done without someone to tell her to, sad clicks and endermen noises escaping her mouth, the particles around her humming a mournful tune.
Niki sat deep in her cave in the lake the whole day, sobbing, tail churning the water up, sending several salmon swirling away in the torrent. Everyone else was in a state of sadness and shock.
Phil was in his house with Technoblade, his longtime human friend, feeling so incredibly broken as he tidied and prepared Wilbur's body, mostly Technoblade doing it because the winged male kept breaking down.
He could barely stand to look at his son's injuries.
Finally, night rolls around and the people of the village gather at the edge of the lake for the funeral. The grave is filled with zinnia, asphodel and cypress flowers; freshly picked and bunched in sprigs.
Wilbur is wrapped in a blanket coloured a midnight purple, a small bouquet of statice, morning glory and purple hyacinth resting gently in his hands, his broken wings folded behind him as best as possible. Phil holds the bundle close, tears running down his face as he, with some of the other's help, lowers his son's body into the earthy grave, where he's surrounded by the flowers.
Phil's wings wrap around himself as they shovel the fresh, damp earth over Wilbur, trying very hard to not break down again.
Wilbur was dead.
His freedom flyer, his songbird, gone forever.
The father looks back at everyone fifteen minutes later, a few silent tears running down his face.
"Thank you so much for this everyone," Phil says quietly as the tears he sheds drip onto the freshly turned earth.
Unnoticed, they start glowing lime and sizzle.
"I cannot say enough how grateful I am to have you guys here and working your asses off today to help. I hope that-"
He stops himself as he hears a strange hum, cocking his head to try and locate it when a lime swirl of energy rises up out of nowhere and sends a few hybrids stumbling back, Phil included.
Stupefied horror floods through the group when the ground shifts and shudders on Wilbur's grave, before the ground erupts and a hand the colour of indigo appears, sharp claws digging into the ground. Everyone takes a few steps back as a strange, distressed growl sounds from the dirt, and suddenly Wilbur's grave explodes, sending dirt and flowers and fabric everywhere.
Tommy is the first to lower his arm from his face, when he gasps loudly at the sight.
A strange creature crawls out of the grave and crouches amongst the dirt, head snapping towards each hybrid, watching them carefully. Its eyes are a bluish-green and glow brightly, the freckles on its cheeks and streaks in its hair having the same shade. Its skin is a light indigo, more so towards blue. Then Tommy recognises the tattered yellow sweater and a Zinnia resting behind the creature's pointed ear.
The avian takes a step forward, staring at it as he breathes out shakily,
"W-Wilbur?"
The creature perks up and stares at Tommy with wide glowing eyes. It, or rather he, crawls and ends up stumbling to his feet, suddenly revealing a thin winding tail ending in a cluster of dark blue feathers that curls around one of Wilbur's shaky legs as he takes a few unsteady steps forward.
He's still holding that bouquet.
But what everyone else seems to be staring at are the wings on the male's back. They're broken looking, and longer than his legs. Fluffed feathers are replaced by a thin indigo membrane, the structure of the wings appearing to be made from cream coloured bone, batlike in shape and composition.
"Oh my god."
Tommy turns his head to glance at Phil, who's looking at Wilbur with distress, joy, sadness and disbelief all at once. "What's happened Phil?" Tommy asks quietly as Wilbur slowly moves closer to him, tilting his head and letting out a confused trill. The resurrected male stumbles, seemingly off-balanced and dizzy, and falls to land on all fours in front of Tommy, putting a clawed hand to his head as a dull pain flashes in his brain, dropping the bouquet at his feet.
He whines, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if trying to shake off something, making Tommy quickly grab the flowers and take a step back as the other's wings flare out and cover him like an umbrella.
Phil is a flurry of feathers as he hurries and kneels in front of Wilbur's new form.
"He's a, a phantom mate." The older man says quietly as he reaches out and starts scratching just behind his ear and part of his neck, voice laced with anxiety. Wilbur stops his movements and stiffens, before relaxing into his father's touch, nuzzling into his hand with a still confused but pleased purr, wings lowering. "Phantom?" Tommy frowns, looking down at Phil calming his brother, small wings shivering.
The elytrian nods, attention snapping to Wilbur as he puts his hand over Phil's. The phantom shakes his head a few times, before his glowing greenish-blue eyes brighten.
He looks into Phil's eyes, recognition finally dawning on his features.
"...Dad?" His voice is echoed and soft, filled with fearful confusion. He sits up, hands falling to rest in his lap as the young male closes his eyes for a moment, lips pursing. Tommy carefully moves to them and sits down next to Wilbur as the other murmurs, "I feel...strange. Lighter. It's harder to breathe. Wh-Why are we all here?"
Phil takes a deep breath in. This was going to be tough.
"Wilbur, something happened. What's the last thing you remember before now?" Phil asks his undead son.
The other thinks, before saying quietly
"I-I remember flying with you Phil. Up at the mountains. It was very windy."
His father nods, putting his hand on Wilbur's cheek, his skin cool to touch, thumb rubbing gently over it as he talks.
"Will, you had an accident. You were caught by the wind and..." Phil swallows, blinking tears away.
"W-When an avian has an accident like that, they turn into what's called a phantom; similar to what a pheonix would be. It's something that doesn't happen very often."
Wilbur freezes, before his eyes open and stare into his father's with a fearful intensity he'd never seen before. The phantom's freckles and hair streaks pale, his lower lip starting to tremble.
"Phantom, as in a ghost?! Y-You're saying I died!?!"
The younger's gaze snaps down to look at his arms, a distraught expression appearing on his face as he sees that his body is now slightly transparent and his skin indigo. Tears fall as he curls into himself and clutches at his head, the horrible reality setting in.
Wilbur starts to wail, body shaking as he breaks down, shoving Phil's arms away as his father tries to hug him. His new tail curls and shudders, the feathered end flicking about near his face.
"I'm dead!" The phantom sobs, breaths violently heaving as he feels like he's going to be sick. Stronger smells nauseate Wilbur further; earth and sickly sweet flowers and the scents of every hybrid around him. Everything's too loud.
"ImdeadImdeadImdeadImdeadohfuckImdead-"
Tommy feels like crying again at seeing his older brother shattering. Phil tries to soothe his son, saying "Will, you're going to be fine mate, you're still here at least."
One of Wilbur's hands suddenly move and run up under his shirt to desperately feel for his heartbeat, to feel that he has at least SOME degree of life left.
The male sobs harder when his chest is cold and unmoving.
"I-I DON'T HAVE A HEARTBEAT!" Wilbur yells.
"I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING HEARTBEAT!!!"
"Wilbur, Will it's going to be oka-"
"NO!"
Wilbur jerks forward, clawed hands wrapping around his throat as he hyperventilates, mind muffling the frantic words for him to calm down from Phil and the others. He scrambles to his feet, wings spreading wide as his flight instinct kicks in, but the phantom lets out a sobbing screech when they only flap uselessly and can't generate enough lift to fly.
Someone puts a hand on his shoulder, and in a sudden animalistic reflex Wilbur's pupils shrink and his head snaps sideways, sinking his sharpened teeth into soft flesh with a snarl.
As soon as he hears his brother scream, horror floods through Wilbur.
Instantly he lets go, hands flying to his mouth as he sees the bleeding bite on Tommy's hand dripping down his wrist, tears springing into his eyes.
"OW! Will?!"
The questioning words filled with pain strike him dead in his still heart, causing the male to stumble backwards, gagging at the heavy taste of iron in his mouth. Wilbur screams, clutching his head again, wings violently whipping up the air around him, tail lashing back and forth.
"FUCK, TOMMY I'M SORRY I'M SO FUCKING SORRY D-DON'T COME ANY CLOSER OH GOD-"
Tommy brings his injured hand into his chest, Tubbo pulling him back as Wilbur goes nuts; an endless wave of shrieking and sobbing spilling out of him as he stumbles away, the panic of hurting someone else and terror of being hurt by them because of it overwhelming him, his delicate but large wings splayed out. Through streaming tears the phantom spies a hole in the crowd and sprints away, his wings instinctively angling to catch the air despite their different composition.
Phil moves and starts chasing after him, tears threatening to spill as his son in his distraught state accidentally heads towards the cliff.
"WILBUR STOP MATE YOU'RE GOING OVER THE CLIFF!" His father yells out, heart stopping when Wilbur, upon finally seeing where he's going, tries to stop his momentum with his wings but topples over with a shriek of horror.
Time slows down as Phil runs harder and jumps off, his large black wings splaying and catching him midfall, flapping as he watches his son fall again. Just like before.
But this time, Wilbur's panic clears and something in him forces his wings out. Immediately, they catch the rushing wind and propel him forward, giving him whiplash.
His tail straightens out and the feathers puff up, giving the crying male the ability to steer much better than before he died. Wilbur's breaths are jagged and fast as he wipes his eyes, looking back at his wings with a mixture of surprise and confusion, before he sees Phil flying down to him which makes him start to panic again.
As much as he tries, his wings refuse to flap, only making him glide down smoothly but slowly towards the ground.
Wilbur's panic only grows the closer Phil gets until he wails out "Dad, stop! I'm only going to hurt you too!" Again like before, something in Wilbur clicks instinctively, and he squeezed his eyes shut, curling into himself as he glides, before he feels something icy wash over him.
He looks back up to see Phil stop midflight and hover, shock all over his face.
The younger male watches as his dad turns his face away and starts looking around him, calling for Wilbur desperately. Wilbur looks down at himself to see his form slightly glowing lime, his skin much more see-through.
'I'm invisible.' Wilbur realises with a jolt.
He continues gliding, the distressed sounds of his father and the others on the cliff fading the further he gets, until the young man lands on the other side, wings folding against his back.
He starts running again until he reaches the extremely tall tree outside of his small cabin. As Wilbur goes to climb up his hand clips through the branch he reaches for, making him jerk back like he's been stung. His breathing is still ragged, but he closes his eyes and concentrates until that icy feeling comes and he becomes corporeal again.
Shuddering and feeling a wave of fresh grief rising in his throat at being dead, Wilbur starts climbing the tree, tightly gripping each branch. The phantom notices as he gets higher how much further up he can travel; apparently being dead made him significantly lighter.
Finally, the young man stops and sits on a branch with the canopy of the tree hiding him well, leaning against the trunk. His tail curls around the branch, feathered end lazily flicking.
Wilbur then curls against the tree and sobs quietly into his hands, not wanting to attract the others to him and also too exhausted to make large movements.
He was dead. No longer an elytrian, something unatural. He couldn't even fucking fly.
His sobbing slowly starts to ease after an hour, and soon he finds himself examining his body with morbid interest.
Wilbur's body seemed to be humming at the cool night air, and when he looks up to the stars the phantom could swear he felt like climbing the highest thing possible to jump off to glide through the air.
His eyesight was perfect, some sort of nightvision. When he reaches out to his tail and uncoils it from the branch it almost seems to have a mind of its own, flicking up and brushing its feathers along his face softly before wrapping around his waist.
Somehow, it comforted him.
The young man stretches out a wing slightly and looks at it, frowning. At the end of each wing he has a hooked claw that looks pretty strong.
He missed his feathers.
Wilbur lets out a long sigh before sitting up and covering his mouth, his eyes widening. Some of his friends must have gone down the stairs near the waterfall, as now he could hear Ranboo, Sneegsnag and Tubbo walking towards his house. Peering down carefully through the leaves, he sees Sneeg sitting on Ranboo's shoulder, peering through a spyglass. Instantly he focuses and goes invisible just in time, the inchling looking up into the tree seconds after.
"Wilbur!" Ranboo calls out, her dark purple dress swishing slightly. Her thick cape hugs around her tall form, almost like curtains, crown gleaming with the jewels embedded in it, her purple particles buzzing about. "Wilbur, where are you? Please come back!" Next to her Tubbo flies about, yelling loudly for the phantom as well.
"WILBUR! COME BACK!!!"
Ranboo winces, tapping the bumblebee on the head, saying as she grumbles at him "Hey, stop yelling in my ear! Loud bastard."
Tubbo looks back at his friend in mock offence, wings buzzing louder. "Oh I'm sorry Your Majesty, I didn't realise I was hurting your precious ears!" He sticks his tongue out at her, making Ranboo gasp and make an annoyed enderman sound.
Sneegsnag interrupts the pair by poking them both with his trident, exasperated.
"Oi, not the time guys! Wilbur's missing, we need to find him now. Tommy's fucking upset, we need to get his brother back."
Wilbur, still covering his mouth, muffles a gasp. He shudders as guilt fills him.
Tommy wanted him back.
The phantom buries his head in his knees, a mouthful trill escaping his mouth.
"What was that?!"
Wilbur slaps his hands back over his mouth, eyes widening in horror as the three look up at where he's invisible in surprise.
He mentally kicks himself for letting himself make a noise; as much as he wants to go and comfort Tommy he's too terrified of the possibility of being attacked for hurting his brother. The three stare up at the seemingly empty tree hard, before startling when a bird trills loudly and flies out of the branches near Ranboo's head, causing her to step back.
"God, that scared the living daylights out of me!" She says, hand over her heart. Tubbo cackles, watching the bird fly away.
"I thought for a moment that Wilbur made that noise," he says, looking back into the tree.
Wilbur holds his breath, looking down at the bee hybrid. "But that was a mockingbird," Tubbo continues, shifting his gaze to Ranboo as he buzzes around her. "I think it just copied a sound he made before. Let's keep going, I wanna look for him somewhere else."
Sneegsnag nods in agreement as he holds a sugar cube almost as big as his head, munching on it for more energy, grains of sugar dusting his face. The enderian sighs and nods slowly, the trio finally moving off, starting to call for Wilbur again.
The phantom lets out a wobbly sigh of relief when he knows they're out of earshot, tail flicking anxiously. He shifts out of being invisible and curls against the trunk of the tree, the claws on his wings hooking into the branches above and stretching them out before settling again.
Wilbur watches the night sky as time passes, admiring the glitter of the galaxies and hot balls of fire and gas.
Soon, he starts seeing the sun rise over the horizon, making the sky bleed orange into the indigo and overtake it. As he watches, he hears someone coming to his house up the pathway.
The phantom turns invisible and carefully peeks down through the branches. His heart sinks.
It's Tommy.
His younger brother runs up the path to his door, small red wings flapping wildly.
His injured hand was bandaged.
The teen is crying, tears streaming down his face as he fumbles for something in his pocket. Pulling out a key Wilbur gave him, the phantom hears Tommy yell, "Wilbur! Come back you prick! I know you didn't mean to! Please, please be in here..."
The avian pushes the door open, his calls muffled through the wood, thumps sounding as he runs through the house, searching. Wilbur doesn't move, but his tail comes up to wrap around his leg and squeeze tight.
Finally, Tommy stumbles out of his house, breaths shuddering, looking defeated. "Where are you Wilby?" He whines, moving to sit under the tree and bury his head in his knees, the teen's smaller wings fluttering sadly. The phantom curses silently, full of guilt and regret, a hand covering his mouth as he looks down at his brother.
The sun has risen further, now piercing through the branches of the canopy, mottling Wilbur's invisible form. His eyes widen when his stomach starts aching, the young man realising he hadn't eaten for over a day. The longing for food gives way to horror when he feels the icy sensation start to wash over him again unwillingly, despite not focusing to turn. He freezes, barely breathing, waiting in case he has to fly away if Tommy was to look up and see him.
When he turns visible again and the lime fades from his vision, Wilbur glances at his hand in the sun as it suddenly starts burning, his skin throbbing.
He goes to rub at it with a pained expression before his mouth drops open, pupils shrinking again.
The phantom feels heat like fire licking up his body where the large blotches of sunlight shine on him, a loud pained shriek ripping through him as he's hit with excruciating pain.
He loses his grip on the tree, not seeing Tommy look up in shock as Wilbur crashes through the branches and rolls out of the shadows into the morning glare. Wilbur's shrieking reaches a new level of agony as he writhes and thrashes under the sun, fully exposed, crying out as pain envelopes him constantly.
The avian sees Wilbur's skin blistering and smoking, his wings sizzling as he screeches like a dying animal, the sound rattling through Tommy.
"WILBUR!"
The teen dashes forward and dodges a thrashing wing to grab one of the phantom's arms and drag him into the shade of the tree. Wilbur keeps thrashing when he's out of the sun, still shrieking and sobbing as his body burns and blisters badly, his screams reminding Tommy far too much of Wilbur's screams echoing down the mountain to where he was hanging out with Tubbo and Ranboo the day he died.
Tommy immediately takes a deep breath and lets out a blood-curdling bird shriek. As he crouches down to a sobbing Wilbur he hears an answering shriek, now reassured their father was coming.
He carefully pulls his brother closer, trying his best not to be too hard when touching his burnt skin, tears springing into his eyes when Wilbur's screeches start dying down to pained keening, his eyes firmly shut, body laying limp as he shudders as if he was dying again.
"I-It's gonna be okay Wilby." Tommy whimpers, his wings flaring out defensively over Wilbur as he strokes his older brother's hair in an attempt to soothe him.
He hears wingbeats, Tommy looking up to see Phil landing in front of him and dropping to his knees, his face pained and horrified.
"Fuck, Wilbur! Oh mate..." He whispers upon seeing the scorch marks and bad blisters covering the phantom's exposed skin, knowing they've travelled far up his body. Wilbur whines, shuddering and letting out a weak sob when Phil takes out a small bottle of potion from his jacket and starts rubbing it quickly but gently over his burning skin.
His head falls back, the young man starting to fall unconscious as the pain very slowly lessens from where his father was applying the healing potion, a last mournful keen fading into the air before he slips into darkness.
Wilbur wakes up slowly, his skin sore but not as bad as before. He's lying on his stomach on his own bed, sweater gone and leaving his upper half bare, pants replaced by black shorts. As he groggily looks around he brings his tail up to examine it.
The feathers are slightly burnt and tattered but appear to be healing. When Wilbur tries leaning up on his elbows he lets out a pained yelp when his skin tightens and burns as he tries to move, like a bad sunburn.
His wings ache, spread out and draping lazily over the bed, edges brushing the floor.
The phantom from behind him hears the door open, immediately trying to move but stopping when his body gives out and he realises he's too tired and weak to escape, especially with his injuries.
He closes his eyes, shuddering.
"Hiya mate."
"Phil?"
The phantom feels the bed dip under his weight as the elytrian sits down next to his son, unconsciously letting out a soft trill when Phil's hand gently threads into his hair and massages it. The father smiles sadly down at him, glad the burns were healing quickly.
"How are you feeling Wil?" He asks softly, his massages lengthening into strokes down Wilbur's neck to between his wings, a shiver running up his back at the sensations.
The phantom feels his throat tighten and his still heart sink, tail flicking slightly as he buries his head further into the pillows.
"I-" His voice catches, Phil letting out an empathetic chirp at the brokenness of Wilbur's tone and pain it expressed.
"I'm sore." He keens.
"I'm hungry. I'm so fucking tired. Scared, confused, guilty, hurt, so many different fucking things Dad!"
The younger male's sobbing now, body shuddering as he wails.
"I D-DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM. I'M FUCKING DEAD, A-A-AND I HURT MY BABY BROTHER, SO I'M SCARED TO EVEN GO NEAR HIM NOW SINCE I DON'T WANT TO HURT HIM AGAIN-"
"Shh, shh Wilbur," Phil lays down and engulfs his son in an embrace, wings opening and settling over him.
"I know. You've had a fucking horrible time. It's a hard thing to handle, but you'll get better with this overtime, okay?"
The phantom whines but nods into the pillow, exhausted. His father hugs him as his sobs ease. Finally, Wilbur's calmer.
"Do you know what I am Dad?" He asks weakly.
Phil strokes his hair again, humming in a way that lulls the phantom into a hazy yet peaceful headspace.
"Yes, I do. A phantom is created when an avian dies from a traumatic injury or event, like when you crashed into the mountain."
Phil pauses to inhale deeply, trying not to think of the incident.
"If they're buried at night they transform quickly, between 15 mins to two hours. But it's very rare for phantoms to occur. Phantoms can't physically be in sunlight, which is why you were burning even through your clothes. Your invisibility prevents this, but to do so you need to eat much more than you usually do. Your wings are made for gliding, so you can't fly properly, but your tail acts as a way of steering. You'll also be nocturnal, hence it's one of the reasons you're tired right now."
Wilbur processes this silently, wings twitching.
"Is Tommy okay?" The male asks eventually, his voice small and full of guilt. "I didn't mean to bite him. M-My brain just went nuts and I-"
"We know Wilbur, it's okay. He wasn't upset, just confused. Once I explained why you acted out he immediately went looking for you."
At that the phantom turns his head to look at Phil, his bright teal eyes red-rimmed but surprised. The elytrian smiles warmly and kisses his hair, running through it again and chuckling at the purr that Wilbur makes.
"I'll let you sleep, okay?" Phil says, climbing off the bed and shaking out his wings. "I'll be back later to rub some more healing potion on your burns."
Wilbur smiles weakly, his tail flicking lazily.
"O-Okay Dad. Love you."
"I love you too Wilbur."
And with that, he leaves.
The phantom sighs, looking at one of his wings, wincing at the charred and sooty areas on it. Carefully, he folds it, hissing at its stiffness before doing the same to his other wing. More comfortable, Wilbur settles into the sheets more, letting out a sleepy trill as his eyes close and his breathing slows.
God he was tired. He's quick to fall asleep.
An hour or so later, the door to his room opens and Tommy peeks his head in. His body, which was tense, as if he was expecting Wilbur to be gone, relaxes when he sees his brother sleeping deeply.
The teen brings his bandaged hand up to rub it gently, studying it and remembering when he tried to calm Wilbur down and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. He remembers Wilbur's head whipping back, eyes glowing and pupils thin slits as he bared his sharply pointed teeth and bit down on Tommy's hand, a ferocious snarl ripping through the air.
But he also remembers Wilbur's eyes dilating and the phantom pulling away screeching in horror, tears streaming down his face at the sight of the crescent bite mark and blood running down in rivulets down Tommy's skin.
Tommy knows his brother wasn't in his right mind when he hurt him, Wilbur wouldn't have done that on purpose.
He carefully sneaks into the room, cursing under his breath as he almost trips on Wilbur's guitar stand, red wings fluttering in a panic. Finally, he gets to the bed and climbs in next to Wilbur, wrapping his arms loose but securely around his chest, Tommy's wing draping over his older brother.
The phantom murmurs in his sleep, shifting closer as Tommy grins. His brother was here. Wilbur wasn't missing.
Sure he had died and become a phantom, but that didn't change anything.
"I'm so fucking glad you're here bitch." The teen avian mutters, watching Wilbur's chest move with his slow breathing. Unconsciously, the taller's tail creeps up and runs over Tommy's wings, running along the feathers before curling around his wrist. Tommy grins wider, fighting a laugh to not wake up the other.
"Clingy prick." He cackles softly, wings fluffing up as a light blush comes to his cheeks. He didn't mind. Tommy stays with Wilbur, happy to be close to his brother in a peaceful moment. Because when he wakes up, Tommy was not gonna stop annoying Wilbur.
Just like before.