He sighed as he stargazed that night.
This was the third night this week that he hadn't slept. Well, honestly speaking, it didn't matter much. He was accustomed to his regular sleep deprived routined, it never really bothered him . Besides it wouldn't exhaust him either. He would walk out of his house the following day looking as if he had got eight hours of sleep like the rest of us. Then again who needs sleep anyway? Why would anyone spend their precious time sleeping instead of admiring those thousand stars in the sky? Those fascinating balls of fire that twinkle from a thousand light years ago. Icarus stays up talking to those stars.
And then there was the Moon. The waxing crescent of the lunar phase, so majestic. He loved how the moon was not always "full" yet he loved her in every form. And that was the concept of love for him.
Just because Icarus was fond of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the earth, doesn't mean time would halt for him. The waves hit the shoreline as usual washing away the sand like the sins of mortals being washed by their tears of remorse. The seventeen year old boy rubbed his blue eyes, eyes with the depth of their own ocean in them. He blinked a couple of time to stop seeing the phosphenes, and turned his head to glance at the clock at the corner of the room. It was four in the morning. Icarus once again looked out of the frosted translucent glass to notice the arrival of the Sun beyond the mist of dawn. The Sun revealed slight bits of himself, the light scattering throughout the dark firmament above. The bright hue reflecting on the dew on the limpid clear leaves. And the way a single drop of dew drops into the lap of the earth, and she embraces him like a mother affectionately envelopes her new born child. Icarus reaches out his hand to touch the tender part of life but it all disappears leaving behind a silhouette.
"Good morning Icarus, how are you?" asked Achilles.
Icarus replied with his customary subtle nod.
Achilles took the cue to not ask further questions. They walked to class together, maintaining the very overrated comfortable silence that they shared. Achilles was perhaps Icarus' closest and, as a matter of fact, only friend. He didn't deny that Icarus enjoyed Patroclus and Helen's company but you couldn't call them particularly friends, no. Icarus was very shy, nervous, awkward in a crowd. He didn't have much luck in making friends either. But it was okay because at the end of the day, he had someone like Achilles.
You don't need a very detailed description of Icarus' day to know that he returned home extremely worn out. He couldn't keep his eyes open , surprisingly. Maybe he was going to sleep after all.
His father entered his room at one point of time just to find his son sleeping soundly, curled up into a ball on one side of his bed. He sat beside him, fondly looking at his only son, his lips curved in a faint smile. He voluntarily moved his hand to gently stroke the boy's forehead. He then got up to switch off the lights in the room and leaving his son to peacefully sleep that night.
His father departed. Icarus shifted to the other side of the bed, opened his eyes and clutched the pillow very close to him. There were people who cared. People whose concern revolved around his well being, his happiness. Maybe he was just disappointing them. Maybe not . He will never know. All he knew for certain was sleep wasn't the thing for him that night. He got up once again and opened the only window in his room. He stayed up another night talking to the stars.
Word count: 646
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The Boy who loved the Sun ✓
Historical Fiction"Icarus" it came out raw and hoarse. "Apollo" he said it soft and sweet Warning : major character death, mention of self harm, bi polar disorder
