“Hey, have you ever hear of the story of boy with the wax wings, Icarus?”

Two shadows were casted over the maintenance platforms on the Lexis tower, the central landmark for tourists to see the city at the highest point possible. Although the moon was brighter than usual, no one seemed to notice the two conspicuous boys sitting dangerously outside of the tower. Their attention was supernaturally ‘reflected’ towards the rest of the city, which to most was already the most eye-catching scene.

The boys sitting with their swinging legs hanging off the edge enjoyed the view just like every night they have done so. Their conversation switching randomly from nonsensical topics to more nostalgic memories as they admire the scene. At least, that’s what usually happens.

Tonight was different, Blake could feel it. His friend was quiet, if not almost completely silent unlike the usual talkative buddy he hang out with at night. If not for that single sentence from him, Blake thought they were going to be silent the whole night.

”You know what, I don’t think I have,” Blake thought for a while before replying honestly. He had heard of the name, but never the actual story. Thinking of breaking the ice, he decided to continue the conversation.

”Icarus, the boy who yearns for the skies was given a pair of wax wings by his father Daedalus, only to fly too close to the sun, melting the wings and fall to his death.”

Blake was shocked by the sudden ending in the story. The usual nonsensical tone in his friend’s voice was practicallynon-existence!

”Why did you ask me about such a sad story?” Blake was confused; this isn’t like his friend at all!

Yet, his friend didn’t immediately say anything, only staring out at the city of the night that’s as bright as the day. Various thoughts flowed through his mind, but none were something he wished to share, nor could.

”...It might be time,” the other boy turned his head to Blake. A sense of sorrow could be felt in his eyes.

Blake wanted to ask what might be the time, but the fear within him stopped him. He doesn’t want to know, at least, he doesn’t want to hear it from his friend’s mouth.

”O-okay,” Blake only said such and looked down, “can we fly around the city one more time?”

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”Yeah. Let’s enjoy the scene while we still can,” he stood up, pulling Blake up with him before he spoke one last word on that tower, “aviation.”

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 “Where do you think you are going?” Ivan paused with one step inside the bedroom upon hearing the familiar tone of anger. He’s used to this. He was alright with it. He’s expecting the punch in his face or chest.

”I bet you went out with that no-good slum boy again! How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him!” The slum boy, Blake was his best friend who he first met back in primary school. Abid both of them went to different schools, they still somehow bonded outside and ultimately became the best of mates. Ivan had never betrayed his friend and treated him like family, even if his father objects.

On the other hand, Ivan hated his father’s words, but just can’t come to hate his father personally. It was strange, like having a traumatising scar that reminds you of the past, but you can’t do anything about it, only maybe look away. Every time he was hit, he would curse the situation for happening, yet never the person doing the harm. Every second his father looked at him in disdain was a second he regretted his heisitation, staying in the moment, but never about staying with him. He had already realised it was an alien feeling different from what others felt, but he didn’t say anything to anyone, not even Blake. This was a unique feeling, he had once thought, which he than came to the conclusion that no one must know about this in his own mind; a twisted logic never discovered, hence never corrected.

After a long time, Ivan simply stood there in silence, enraging his father even more to the point he was about to smash his bottle over his head.

The sound of glass breaking echoed throughout the house. Ivan still stood by his bedroom door; his expression showed a minor trace of surprise as small glass pieces and liquor fell onto him. A small patch of brown now stained the ceiling with bits of glasses stuck into it as well.

Ivan aviated the bottle.

”What?” His father, shocked by the sudden force, fell onto the ground with his hands supporting his back and looked at his son dubiously, then fearfully. ‘Who are you,’ his eyes seem to say as he stared at Ivan as if he was enstranged; no, he is, and has always been enstranged. Ever since his wife left him, he felt that Ivan was not his son, but a stranger living in his house instead.

Ivan closed his eyes. He realised he screwed up and revealed his secret to the one person he does not want to know.

Walking into his bedroom, he pulled up his window and climbed through, intending to escape the situation. Turning to his father, he now has a new regret in his mind.

”Sorry,” Ivan apologied; to what, his father was not sure; “...actually, I should have said so earlier.”

Lifting his legs out of the room, he sat by the window and jumped.

”No!” Ivan’s father instantly sobered up and jumped at Ivan, but it was already too late.

”Aviation,” a single word raised Ivan into the sky as he disappeared into the night sky. No one saw a figure flying across the stars except one man.

Daedulas could only fall in hysteria as he watched his son fly away.

Neither noticed the other boy spying from afar nor when he spoke a word when Ivan was about to get hit.