Are We Alone?

Not Icarus

TW: Homophobic slurs, bullying, fighting

"Look at him," someone sneered in Patton's face as he laid in the dirt in front of a building with fading walls and broken windows. "He's so weird." A flutter of agreement filled the small crowd of pre-teens.

"He's so strange," someone muttered from the back. A girl with freckles and bright orange hair.

"Leave me alone," Patton whispered, drawing himself from the dirt. His voice cracked, brittle and broken.

"Aw, what you gonna do, Pat? Kiss me?" Another boy with black hair drawled, plucking Patton's forehead and shoving him back onto the ground.

"The fag," someone sniffed.

"What a waste," another said.

Patton could barely contain it. The raw feeling palms to release and lash out at them. To show them who truly was a waste.

But he smiled instead. Blue crisp eyes full of masked hatred.

Someone pulled him up, only to shove him back on the ground. The air left his lungs quickly, leaving him gasping for air.

Honestly, it matched how he felt emotionally, like a fish out of place. A misfit.

"What's there to smile about?"

He didn't answer. He focused on breathing and the puffy white clouds in the sky. The floated through the air, unaware of the pain here on the ground.

He felt like Icarus, kinda. He remembered reading about him in a library. He felt caged, desperate to leave, to be free. No matter the consequences.

But he couldn't, because no matter how much he yearned to watch the breath leave his 'siblings' body and the light fade from their eyes, he wouldn't condemn them. He wouldn't be Icarus, reaching for Apollo's chariot only to be smothered by Poseidon's salty castle.

He knew better.

He closed his eyes. Tired of looking through his broken frames and cracked lenses. It was like his lungs were being filled with water and his skin baked under the fiery sun as his 'siblings'  urged him to stand so they could pummel him some more.

"What are you doing out here children? Why is Patton on the ground?" An old woman with more wrinkles than Patton could count asked walking towards them.

"I don't know Ms. May. He's just weird," a boy said, giving Patton a small smirk. Deceitful children. Sometimes Patton hoped some god would strike them down.

He sat up slowly, dusting off his dirty clothes, pulling his gray sweater tighter around him. It didn't matter how hot it was outside, he always wore his jacket.

Ms. May sighed, looking at Patton with pity that he honestly didn't want. She didn't see her demon children. It was amazing anyone adopted the little devils in the first place.

"How about you go to your room, Patton?" She offered nicely, careful to make it seem as if she weren't blaming him. But she was, he knew that.

He stood up, without looking up he responded, "Yes, Ms. May." He stalked towards the orphanage, not even bothering to acknowledge the snickering kids behind him.

The wooden boards creaked under his weight as he climbed the stairs. The door squealed on it hinges as he opened and closed it. On his bed lied a book by Rick Riordan. The Lightning Theif.

This was Patton's favorite series. He loved everything Greek. From Icarus to Hercules. They were strange, misfits searching for a place to stay, that's why he wouldn't he give in to his urges. His fingers danced across his windowsill, small icicles growing from where ever his hands grazed.

He was waiting for a satyr like Grover to come and save him. Tell him that he was the son of Khoine. Not a major goddess, but anything was better than here.

He'd be a hero like Achilles or Hercules or Prometheus. He'd smile in the face of danger, or even be a friend to those who felt like they were strange, like they were alone.

A smile cracked at his lips. No, the sun wouldn't burn him nor the sea drown him in it's own fury. He'd never let out a breathy laugh of triumph as he fell from the sky. He was not Icarus, but Patton.

And he'd save the world.

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I finished, guys! Here ya go, some good old Patton history.