Boy in the skies

Chapter 4 - Meet Boy

'The fuck, you never told me taking care of a kid takes this much money you slimy bitch!" The older woman shouted to the smaller women, who was crouched on the floor, holding her little boy tightly against her.

With all the remaining courage she had, she shouted back, 'No! The old you would've never said that about our kid! The drinking, its the drinking. You have to stop, we can still make this work, I'll be there for you p-pleas-"

The older woman interrupted by taking a half full bottle of liquor and smashing it down, the glass and alcohol threatening to come near the younger woman.

"P-please june, stop, he's so young, you can't make him go through this- please-" The younger woman said, her voice quivering with fear. The older woman seemed to consider this, eyeing the sleeping boy in the latter's arms.

Seeing how the younger woman; her lover slowly relaxed, she grinned and grabbed another bottle. And through her clenched grin, she eyed the boy once again. "You'll be mine again sugar, all mine. That useless slug can go die. Thats all I can offer." The older woman said.

The younger woman stared shocked at the words of her lover, she opened her mouth to beg again when the latter spoke again, "And actually sweetheart, I'd like to kill the bitch myself." She moved to the latter and the boy and raised the bottle.

"Sweet dreams."

I opened my eye's immediately. Blinking my surroundings in, I realised I was staring at a face. Dark, Brown skin, dark eyes and white hair stared back at me. "Julian Sayeed." I mumbled, fully opening my eyes. The boy that was crouched over my face moments ago immediately jerked back as I said his name.

I watched, not saying a single thing as he quickly sat back in his wheelchair, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. I was amused at how flustered he looked, I'd caught him looking at me (and possibly violating).

"Julian Sayeed." I said a little louder, my head suddenly pounding. I watched amused as the the boy lifted one lid only to see my watching him and closed it again. I saw his mouth slightly open and then close immediately, his eyes still shut. I chuckled and watched one, silently too.

He tried again and this time something did come out, and it sounded something like, "dafuckareyou?" I almost let the laughter building inside me come out but one part of my being restrained and told me that the boy would probably get annoyed and murder me on the spot if I did.

Then again, I had wings, I could quite literally choose flight. Then it finally hit me, he wasn't supposed to see me. No one did. No one could. And I was his guardian, I had to protect him from the shadows, not have a conversation about what I was. To be honest, even I didn't know what I was. Fallen angel? I could cry at that.

I made a mental note to ask Graye that again, for the Julian's sake. "Uh, you ain't dead right, like I really don't feel like burying a body today- I really can't bother to-" The boy started again, which threw me off from the railroad of thoughts I was having.

"Mm yuh I'm alive-" I said simply, glancing at the boy who then opened his eyes to look at me, sighing as he clarified that I didn't actually die. He looked into my eyes and I did the same with his. Suddenly, a memory of a younger looking Julian rushed into my mind, blurring my vision.

"huh?" I mumbled absently as I saw the miniature Julian running around with what looked like an engine part, his face was stained with some black liquid and so were his hands. He ran in circles before running to a man in a long white thobe, one of his small hands holding the engine part and the other clinging onto the older man's thobe.

"Baba! Where do I keep this?" The miniature Julian asked the older man, who took the part from his small hands and placed it down beside the boy and picked him up. "Jules, my son, don't touch baba's work stuff. Instead, go clean up, okay my little boy?" The little Julian giggled and nodded, jumping away from his father's embrace and running towards the field adjacent to the work shop.

I blinked, And I could see Julian's face zoomed in again. But this was the present Julian, the one with dyed white hair, not the small dark haired boy I'd seen moments ago. "What-?" I said, and Julian stared at me blankly, "You have a really bad habit of zoning out weirdo." He said, annoyance tinkling his voice.

I mentally slapped myself, "Sorry, I just- I have this- thing- well- I-" I paused when I felt warm fingers graze my lips. Before I could even comprehend what was going on, the boy pulled away and raised a brow. "Shh- Can you speak now?" He asked point blank.

I felt myself getting red and cupped my hand over my mouth. "I- I have to go-" I managed and got up, the boy seemed stunned at my sudden departure and sat still, staring at me with wonder. "You still haven't told me what you are." He whispered so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

"You'll- you'll know kid, but not now." I said, turning to him and catching his eyes. He's gorgeous, a part of my brain told me and I blushed and looked away. Then I  could hear the boys laugh ringing from behind me, every note clear in the air, the air rippling itself to support his beautiful laugh.

I was fawning over a laugh.

As soon as his melodious laugh started, it ended which felt me frowning and wanting to hear it more. "See you next time Icarus."

-

Julian Sayeed-

I stared at the homework on my desk, then glanced at my bed. The two most opposing things in my room. One that would bring me comfort, but would aid in all my parents theories of me being an absolute bedbug and the second would be torture, but would get me some appreciation from said parents and teachers.

I made my choice and moved my wheelchair to my bed, I got up from it steadily and landed with a thud on my bed. The soft covers of my bed caressed my being, warming it as it was. I grumbled at the warmth and reached my fingers to grab the end of my shirt and pulled it over my head.

As I did, pain drifted throughout my body. I couldn't even take off my fucking shirt without my goddamn injury reacting. To be honest, it was more than an simple injury, an amputation was accurate and the pain, was horrible. As suggested by the amount of damage in my left leg.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday, only that it wasn't. It was a month after my seventeenth birthday, my dad had painted his old jet plane with clouds, painted due fully with my favorite colour, orange. With the my initials J.S marked proudly in the corner. Safe to admit, I was a crying mess, a happy crying mess.

I rode that beauty like it was everyone's business, from some simple straight line flying to doing some heart wrenching, crazy moves. I was estatic to do more all the time.

And as if faith had decided it was time, my dad hosted a small gathering, rather a race than a gathering but you get the gist. Literal, world renowned jet plane racers were invited, them being my dads friends. It wasn't a shock however, since dad has a jet plane race track and a whole show anyways. But still crazy.

Craziest part was that he invited me to it, to get me on my feet. And long story short, anxiety hit me like a brick quite literally and I crashed.

The pain that it bought me then still bought tears to my eyes, and it wasn't just the pain of losing a leg. It was the pride I felt before and the tears I shed later that affected me the most. My mental health dropping to its bare knees.

The next morning after my hospitalization, looking as much as I could at my broken leg, a part of me knew I'd never fly again.

                                          (Word Count)
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