"invisible" a OTGW Gen fanfic

Warning: The beast is more of an OC of mine, and I'll develop his origin story further later. This is a Gen Hurt/Comfort and based on a MoonValley episode. The story from my AU "The Beast of Spring and the Beast of Winter." You can find the same story on AO3. And if you'd like to know more about the beast's backstory and the AU, don't hesitate to ask in the comments (if I have time).

There's a curse that says when you are so deeply entrenched in your sadness and fears, and you don't know how to get out of the situation. You become someone invisible to the human eye. An invisible person that you don't want anyone to see. This curse is so common in the woods of the Unknown. Thanks to that curse, the beast can become people in trees more easily and efficiently. 

However, it does not help much when your hunter at your service enters a panic and can't do their work because of an invisible curse. 

The beast has to admit that, although he tries to escape and do his daily task, with a depressing mood. His hand was efficient, more efficient than his last hunter. He obeys when he has to obey, he doesn't complain when he is told not to complain, and he doesn't question him. It was the perfect hunter he had ever had. 

But as the months pass and they lose track of time, Wirt starts to feel more and more sad. Sometimes he didn't eat or drink. He just does his work and then sleeps a lot. The beast will never admit it, but he was starting to worry a little, but just because of fear that he might not be able to do his job,obviously. In all his years as the beast, he had never seen a hunter with such a deep sadness before. 

Thanks to this curse, Wirt has fallen further behind in his work. He has seemed quite discouraged and weak. He wouldn't even touch the food the beast offered him. The young woodcutter was afraid he would remain like this forever. Invisible to everyone, a mere specter, visible only by his navy-blue cloak and axe.

The two walked silently through the forest. Wirt's invisible hand pulled a cart full of firewood while the other lit his way with the oil lantern that contained his soul and the beast’s soul. The beast glanced at him a few times, unsure whether to say anything or not. Wirt had always been quiet; his silence was comfortable, but now all he wanted to do was end this torturous silence.

—Umm…—he stammered, a little uncertain. —Are you feeling better, pilgrim? —It was a stupid question. Of course, he didn't feel well. But at least he could tell if it hadn't gotten worse, and he was calmer than before. Last night he was inconsolable. So much so that the beast had to starve himself a little to take care of him, since he couldn't leave the bathroom without crying.

—A little — he replied softly, continuing on his way. —It's still difficult, I don't have much hope of this passing. But I appreciate you helping me, beast. It was...strangely kind of you.

If he had pupils, he would have rolled them. —You know perfectly well that-

—Yes, yes, yes — he interrupted. Already knew the beast's obvious response whenever he saw a kind act from him. —You only do it because I'm your labor force. Blah, blah, blah. I wonder if anyone doesn't believe you?

The beast remained silent, not wanting to say anything that might damage his manipulative and heartless image. Wirt knew his manipulative and strategic nature so easily that he no longer cared about falling for it. The invisible man stopped in his tracks. The beast looked at him a little avertedly.

—I... I've been thinking... and... I think I know the reason why I became invisible, Beast. If you'd like to listen.

The Beast nodded gently, his cold and imposing temperament returning. —Yes, I think I'd like to know why my new lumberjack got himself so tangled up in such an emotional mess that it's hindering his work.

The young cutterwood sighed shakily. Even though the Beast could only see his navy blue coat, he knew he was trembling. It was a nervous tic Wirt had due to his anxiety. Not only that, but the words hurt as they left his throat, as if daggers were stabbing him.

—I think... I think I'm afraid of becoming unrecognizable.

The Beast would have been offended. But he understood the feeling. He, too, had been like Wirt, and still was. Only that this young boy was lost in the darkness. In his early days as the lantern's guardian, he was afraid of the transformations and deformations that appeared on his body. He didn't want to be something unrecognizable to his people. The beast stared at a fixed point, unwilling to seek Wirt's invisible face or the coat that was the only thing that made him visible. It gave him a strange pang in his heart to remember his past.

—I don't want to offend you, my beast. But... fur is growing on my arms, and this tail was the last straw. I'm afraid, I'm afraid of transforming into something unrecognizable. Into a beast that even my little brother fears...into someone without a heart or feelings.

He heard sobs coming from his voice, which grew more fragile as he continued speaking. The beast's offended feelings turned to alarm. He was terrible at comforting others, which was why he didn't like it when Wirt cried like a little boy missing his mother, although the boy's way of crying was quiet, soft, and sometimes with a few sad cries or moans. The beast placed his large hands on the flowing coat that creased the place of his shoulders.

—Young man, listen to me...

—I can't! I'd rather be invisible, so no one can see me in the monstrosity I've become! I don't want even my mother to see me... for... Greg to see me."

The sobs worsened until they became inconsolable cries. The beast felt a tightness in his chest; that anguish, that anguish belonged to someone else... that someone was him. He had felt that anguish. He also missed his mother, his family, his friends, and the life he had. The regret he felt every day, remembering how he had become a beast, the pain he felt at that. It always hurt the old boy from his past, and it used to hurt the large beast he was now. The beast fell silent, his grip tightening a little as if digging his claws into his shoulders.

How could he comfort someone who felt the same way he did? Simple, there was a difference between them. Wirt had someone, and that someone was necessarily him. This wasn't just about work; this was personal. Trying to be there for someone who felt the same way he did, and perhaps being able to comfort and heal a little of his pain. Something no one else could ever do for him.

If the townspeople do it, the beast could try too, right? Feelings were something old he hadn't felt in a long time. As if he'd had an illness that prevented him from feeling them. Until the arrival of the pilgrim, it seemed as if a magic syrup had been injected into him, and now he could barely feel them. Just a tiny bit. But they were there, and all thanks to the pain the woodcutter and he shared.

—You have nothing to say — he finally said —I completely understand you, pilgrim. I know it's hard, but... I promise to be there when that happens. You'll be strong when you transform into a beast and when everyone turns their backs on you. I'll be there by your side. Obviously, I'll give you more work, but... I'll be there when you need me.

—As a coworker?

The beast found it hard to get those words out; he said them with a slight distaste. As if he were eating a bitter candy and trying to stop himself from spitting it out. —Yeah... as a coworker, I guess.

Suddenly, Wirt's mixed skin face began to become visible. Only his cinnamon eyes were too large and watery. As his face became more visible, you could see his new fluffy, pointy ears and his cheeks flushed red from crying.

—Pilgrim... you're crying-

There were no more words; the Mortal no longer cared how powerful and respectable the beast was around here. He sank into his arms, his knees losing balance, and he let himself fall into the beast's embrace. The beast wanted to protest, but when that simple "thank you" left the pilgrim's thin lips, he couldn't complain anymore. He had fulfilled what he might have needed done for him a long time ago. It felt...comforting? Was this what feeling happiness about a good deed felt like? It wasn't anything like what he felt when he turned the children into trees, but it felt just as good. The pleasure of seeing the pilgrim stop crying and become visible again with a few words.

Mentally promising himself never to feel this way again and to suppress these pleasant feelings for the next time he helps the pilgrim. He returned the hug, wrapping himself around the pilgrim's small form to keep him warm while gently stroking his back with his claws. As if it were a large blanket, which, surprisingly, was quite warm for Wirt, covering his entire body.

—You're welcome, Pilgrim.