Chapter Text
Telamon’s robed arms entangled the small body he clutched. Swathed in tender cloth, the room's dark did little to bring out their soft features, but Telamon didn’t need light to recognize the babe.
It’d been an age since he’d seen them this way. Small, inconspicuous, innocent. Their face, light gray and pure as the sun’s rays, was something Telamon had almost forgotten. He’d nearly forgotten his child wasn’t malice incarnate, not at first.
No, he’d only convinced himself that they were. Looking back and looking at them now, he cursed himself for such a sin. For placing that terrible mantle on a mere infant.
In the instant Telamon got lost in his thoughts, the baby’s eyes fluttered open, white lashes batting at the dust bunnies drifting drearily in the dense basement air. They sniffled and sneezed, taking their first breaths as they awoke from the searing sensations of their conception. Another whine, and Telamon’s gaze finally settled on them, his lip flat as a line as he gazed into their rich brown eyes.
They sparkled like fresh dew after rain. They were full of life and wonder, with no hint of putrid wrath. Telamon bathed in their unsteady gaze, carefully shifting his hold of them to lift a finger to their face.
A palpable babble, sweet as a bird's song and pure as the morning sun, reached Telamon’s ears. The babe in his hold reached out, flexing their chubby fingers and thumbs as their plush arms stretched up, seeking him and his warmth. One fell short and settled for digging its soft nails into the fabric of his robe. The other palm clasped around Telamon’s extended hand, gripping his finger with all their might.
Telamon pursed his lips, hunching over some and shielding the child from the light with his shadow. He examined them closely, gracefully guiding the back of his palm over their round cheek before turning it over and carefully caressing them with his thumb. It’d been so long since a child had been made here that he couldn’t help but worry that something might have been wrong with them, that in an instant, they could have been snuffed out like they had been before.
Worry . One of many loathsome feelings Telamon had come to grasp in the past few days. An unfamiliar, unwelcome blight. Grief was another—worry, grief, and guilt .
Oh, the guilt was the worst. It festered deep in the darkest pits of his mind and gut, swelling with a weight that rendered him heaped and useless, bogged within himself as his mind writhed with scalding agony. These things which had felt so far beneath him for the longest time now entangled him in rigid chains, taut and tightening further with every passing moment.
Especially now, as he gazed at their face again. Small and sweet, he couldn’t possibly fathom how he’d brought himself to harm them before. That blame he felt for himself was a building pain and tightness among his innards, mounting, mounting, mounting-
Another sound from the babe and Telamon’s thundering thoughts were silenced. A little cry escaped their throat, and Telamon’s eyes refocused in time to realize the hand he’d carefully cradled their head with was gripped ferociously around their scalp. A shaky breath rippled through his chest, and he loosened his hold, shifting the child in his arms again as they began to heave, retching and heart-splitting sobs ringing in Telamon’s ears.
Telamon breathed openly, mouth partially agape and curved into a frown as the infant wailed. His hold on them tightened protectively at the sharp and grating sound, his face contorting with slight panic as he sheltered them.
“Shh, shh,” he whispered, his voice soft as mist. He pressed the babe securely against his chest, rubbing one hand up and down their bare back and clutching their head with the other. As they continued to cry, Telamon leaned close, kissing away their bubbling tears. “You’re okay, kiddo. You’re okay.”
The infant sniffled and whined, but their cries quieted to mere whimpers as they were rocked. Telamon sighed, patting the baby carefully on the back and feeling relieved at their calm state.
He gazed down at them fondly, his lips pursing again as he took in their appearance. Gray skin and hair tousled messily on their head, deep brown eyes as warm as summer, and two sets of fluffy feathered wings. Tiny, almost unsightly, the baby had one pair nestled among their silky locks of hair, the other closer to their tailbone. Unmistakable features that tied the infant to their father, right down to blood and bone.
They were his. Telamon’s. They always had been. He only wished he’d recognized that before he had to do this.
He wouldn’t make that same mistake again, never again. He couldn’t. He’d been graced with this second chance, and through it, he would rectify all of his faults. All of them. No matter what.
The light of the room flickered on with a delayed electric twitch. Telamon’s feathers bristled in surprise as he whirled his head around, eyes sharp in focus as they settled on the figure of Builderman standing in the door. He instinctively grasped the baby tighter, folding one of his great wings over his shoulder, shielding the infant from view.
“Telamon.” Builderman began with a tone devoid of its typical warmth and charm. Telamon could barely distinguish the other’s accent as his name was uttered almost sternly. Builderman’s expression settled on something between disappointment and regret, his eyes falling to what he knew was hidden behind Telamon’s wing.
“I was hopin' I could get here 'fore you done it, but…” he sighed, adjusting his belt and stepping into the room, approaching Telamon cautiously, their eyes locked. “S’pose not.”
Telamon frowned, his eyes now shaded by his hood thanks to the fluorescent overhead lights, which flickered every other moment. As Builderman came close, vaguely gesturing with his palm, Telamon released his protective stance, silently moving his wing to reveal the baby to the other.
Builderman’s eyes widened at the sight, his lip quivering before he clasped a gloved hand over his mouth. “Shoot, Telamon. What’ve you done?” he asked, his voice trembling with his palms. Telamon grimaced slightly, unable to soften his glare, even for Builderman.
“What I had to do.”
“Had to?” Builderman replied, his voice cracking briefly. He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing as he lifted his hand to his scalp. “I ain't even sure how to start explainin' why this here's all kinds of messed up.”
“How?” Telamon bit, his voice bitter. He knew with every fiber of his skin and flesh and soul that Builderman was right—this was totally and utterly fucked—but for the sake of his pride, he convinced himself otherwise. “We’ve done this before. Exactly like this. How is it different now?”
“They only jus’ died. A few days back. Telamon-” Builderman sighed, somehow already exasperated. He looked at the baby again, who was now facing him. Their eyes matched his. Builderman cupped his mouth with his palm again, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. “Shoot.”
Telamon grimaced, looking down at the baby in his arms as they observed the other man curiously. He came forward, his wings carefully encircling the two of them as he held the child out for Builderman to hold.
Builderman tensed as feathers brushed against his leg, and his eyes shot open to be met with the baby in front of him. He gasped, not from surprise or shock, but from the sheer weight of it all. He hadn’t seen them this small in years.
His chest heaved with effort, and he took the babe into his arms with Telamon’s insistence. They fit comfortably and perfectly in his arms, their plush body just right against the rise and fall of Builderman’s chest. His hands wrapped around them securely, eyelids quivering just before silent tears began to fall from them. Telamon watched, and his glare hardened as the mountain of guilt on his shoulders inclined his wings to droop.
“Oh, Telamon why…,” Builderman muttered, less of a question, though he answered regardless.
“Because I need to do things right this time.”
“This- this time?!” Builderman choked, “Ain't no 'this time!' We're talkin' 'bout a kid here, a whole soul to raise and tend to. You can't just hit reset when ya screw up!”
Telamon flinched slightly at Builderman’s raised voice, and the other immediately shrank, frowning and resting a hand gently on the baby’s head. “Sorry. Shouldn’t yell,”
“You’re forgiven,” Telamon answered, and Builderman’s sharp tone returned.
“But please, their memory and life don’t mean nearly as much now. What ya gonna do if this one kicks the bucket outta the blue or goes off track? Just whip up another one?” He motioned to the child with his hand, flinching as they reached out and grabbed for his fingers. Builderman instinctively tugged his hand back; he couldn’t bear to look at them. He shuddered. “What does this one matter if that’s the case?”
Telamon’s eyes fell to the floor, and he glared. “There won’t need to be another one. This time, I’ll raise them right. I won’t make the same mistakes again.”
Builderman couldn’t answer for a moment. His palm found his chin, and his watery eyes flooded and blurred as he felt the stubble beneath his lips. Tears slipped down his cheeks, falling to the baby’s face. They flinched at the sudden sensations, sniffling.
Telamon waited for a response, his face scrunching as he watched the other suddenly sink to his knees on the dusty, tiled floor.
Under any other circumstance, the view of Builderman kneeling before him would have elicited a far different reaction from Telamon. But now, it only served to wrench his heart further, watching Builderman crumple.
Builderman’s quiet weeping devolved into uncontrollable heaves and sobs, his eyelids overwhelmed by the onslaught of his sorrow as he cried over the baby in his arms. “Telamon, why-” he sniveled. “You should’ve let ‘em rest. Why in the world couldn’t ya? Why couldn’t ya just let ‘em have some peace?”
Telamon clenched his fists, swallowing his pride at the sight of the other in tears. The man he’d so often cradled, bare-bodied, side by side among shared sheets. The man he’d helped build a realm of pure bliss and imagination. The man he’d wanted a kid with in the first place.
The winged deity knelt before the other, his gaze softening in a rare instance that had become progressively more common over the past few days. His wings lowered to the floor, carefully folding behind him as he took in the sight of Builderman and the baby.
“I’m sorry. I messed up again. I wasn’t thinking.” Telamon said this as though the words burned his tongue and throat, his softened expression caving to a grimace nearly instantly. Even so, he was honest. Brutally honest with himself, though it was the bare minimum for Builderman.
“That don’t fix this,” Builderman retorted, and Telamon resisted snapping back at the other. “We can't just...git rid of 'em. That ain't right. But how are we s’pposed to raise a kid and fix Robloxia at the same time?” he asked.
Telamon didn’t meet his eyes as Builderman looked up at him. He figured he’d crack at the sight of the other crying.
“I’ll raise them,” Telamon answered, earning a sharp breath from Builderman. Telamon shook his head, reaching up to his hood and carefully lifting it from his head, revealing his curly brown hair and deep blue eyes. It’s only now that he meets the other’s gaze. “But, not the same. I’m not going to do that to them again.”
Builderman’s mouth moved, but no sound escaped, not even as Telamon reached for the child and took them from his arms. After all this time, the infant had grown tired, their white eyelashes flicking slower and slower, before their eyes closed, and their breathing steadily slowed.
Telamon cradled them tenderly, ensuring they were comfortable and secure in his arms before they drifted off to sleep. “I will raise them,” he reiterated, eyes focused on Builderman as he continued, “You will rebuild. I’ll help where possible, and you won’t be burdened with my mistakes anymore.”
Builderman’s eyes were wide as he blinked away the last of his tears. This Telamon was one he was unfamiliar with. The endless and unyielding confidence and arrogance, the do-no-wrong, might-makes-right attitude, was nowhere to be found. It was like he was looking at a human person, not a god. He exhaled.
“No,” he replied, much to Telamon’s shock.
“No?” he questioned. “But- what do you mean no?!”
Builderman reached out, his hands finding the other’s clothed shoulders as their foreheads met in the middle, arching over the sleeping tot. “I mean no. They're my young'uns too, even if I reckon this was the dumbest thing you coulda done.”
“We will raise the kid, and we will rebuild Robloxia. Together.”
Builderman said this with such finality that Telamon couldn’t find any place or way to object. The other’s words tore through what remained of Telamon’s walls, and he did nothing but nod, taking in a long, slow breath. “Alright,” he agreed. “Alright.”
They scooched closer, ignoring the filthy floor beneath them while holding the sleeping baby. Their heads remained reliant, resting against one another as they gazed at the child. Telamon smiled, speaking after a moment.
“They have your eyes,” he reminded, as though they hadn’t been the first feature Builderman had noticed.
“And they have your wings,” he replied.
“Naturally.”
The smug little grin that crossed Telamon’s cheeks was nostalgic, and Builderman couldn’t help but smile further at the sight of it.
“But, seriously,” Telamon went on. “The more I look at them, the more I think they look like you. They look a lot like you,” he smirked, pressing his cheek against Builderman’s. “I’m jealous.”
Builderman scoffed, shaking his head and lightly patting Telamon on the shoulder. “Apologies for incurring your wrath,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and earning a sly little snicker from the winged man beside him.
Silence, and then Builderman raised the question that had been lingering in his mind since he laid eyes on the babe in his arms. “What’re we gonna call 'em?” he asked, “The same as before, or…?”
“Only one name is deserving of them,” Telamon answered without hesitancy or uncertainty. “It will always be their name, and they will always carry it, regardless of their incarnation.”
Builderman’s smile faltered briefly, his brow creasing as he glanced in Telamon’s direction. But he didn’t object, only nodding. “Of course,”
He leaned down, planting a soft kiss against the babe’s smooth forehead, the stubble of his chin tickling their face as he hummed fondly at them.
“1x1x1x1 it is."