The Boy who loved the Sun ✓

| the sins we have committed |

I was naked 

I laid there with nothing 

no blanket 

just my pulsing heart

rapid flapping wings 

trying to escape 

the cage of a body 

to soar and explore 

what exists beyond words 

or illusions the eyes can see 

what can only be felt 

to be free 

*trigger warning*

Daedalus had not realised it was terrifyingly calm and a dark silence enveloped their house until he walked up stairs with cautiously measured foot steps . The hollow doorway gave him goosebumps , and he was not really sure why he felt that way in his own house . He was taken aback when he stepped foot on the threshold of his son's room . He shrugged at the unforseen icy cold water that had come in contact with his toe and he immediately withdrew it . The forcefully flowing water from the tap , had overflown the waterlogged bathtub . Daedalus walked inside , and he called his son's name once . 

" Icarus ,  it is almost dinnertime , are you not hungry yet , my boy?" he asked . 

No body answered . 

The windows were wide open and the downpour let alone aware of its existence , the atmosphere teeming with grave silence . The denser and greyer clouds caulking the vast stretch of the eternal firmament , imbuing Daedalus' mind with assorted undesired postulates , his heart skipping a beat at each and every one of them . 

" Icarus?" he called once again in a timorous manner . 

No body answered .

The sound of the running tap was distinctly louder than the torrential deluge outside , and a hundred times stronger as a matter of fact . Cold water flowing through the room , under the unavoidable presence of powerful gravity that no one could possibly defy . Daedalus walked farther inside the room , switching on the lights Icarus had switched off at the beginning , to examine and analyse the situation better , only to come to terms with the most devastating shock of his lifetime . 

The bitterly freezing water continued to flow off the bathtub , and a wounded pale hand , with raw uncured callow scars , was relaxed from the metallic edge . A painfully scarred arm covered in blood , still warm admist the dead cold surrounding . Daedalus saw the cynical portrait of sadness and vulnerability and agony his son had painted , using his own fragile body as a canvas and the red blood from his palette of opened veins as his diverse copious colours . All the stardust in his flesh was on the damp floor , like the shiny glitters little children accidentally get on their fingers and giggle about it , out of sheer happiness .

Icarus was perhaps smirking at his father right now , sarcastically lauging at Apollo and rolling his pretty blue eyes at the world , this is my rhetoric answer to all the questions you never even cared to ask.

But no one saw that . All they saw a seventeen year old , naked boy , skin terribly cold and pale , drowned himself . His identity was reduced to a mere body , with no name , no background , just a dead body . A body lying in a bathtub , water mixed with flower petals , scented cologne , candles floating and a lot of blood . The boy's entire cold lifeless body , looking so frail , including his face which was underwater , his captivating eyes had been blindfolded by the skilled hand of death . His lips were somehow in a curve . The blood on his fingertips , touching the marble moistened floor , fell one drop after the other . And that was the only sound Daedalus could hear anymore . The sound of the blood dripping on the floor was louder than it should be . As the water from the bathtub washed away Icarus's blood , it took away with it all the deeds and sins he had ever committed  , leaving him behind as the virtuous protagonist of an unfinished tale . A book that abruptly ended mid sentence .