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He’s drowning, he’s been drowning. The waves pull him down constantly, him clinging to rocks to stay afloat.
A permanent solution is needed, something to keep him from being pulled down into the cold water. The clouds part for a moment, gold beaming from behind them.
An out. Something to bring back the warmth in his life, a feeling he only knows from fleeting memories.
He needs to reach the sun.
He finally made it.
The sun’s right in front of him, his body warm.
No, not warm. Hot. He can feel the heat from it radiating onto him, his entire body a flame. It stings, but it feels so much better than the freezing waters he’s used to. Getting used to the temperature would be worth it, he’d take the burns anyday if it meant he got to feel this good. The sun started to move farther and farther away, was he too cold for it to be around? Does it know he’s stealing its heat?
Then he realizes, he’s the one moving.
He’s falling, the waxy wings on his back on fire.
He’s warm though, and with the breeze on his back, it’s a wonderful feeling.
The clouds block his view of the ground, were his friends still down there? They probably saw him reach it, and he’ll get scolded on how dangerous it was to attempt it. His wings were still on fire, he’d share the warmth he gained from it with them, show them how worth it it was.
He knows hitting the ground will hurt, but he can recover from it. It’s way better than falling back into the water, where he’ll lose the fire the moment he hits the water and drowns. Maybe one of them can catch him, slow his descent so that it hurts less. It’ll burn them though, or worse, it’ll burn their wings too and cause them to fall with them.
Sure, it’s a good feeling for him, but he doesn’t know about them. They may not enjoy the fiery feeling as much as he does, he doesn’t want them getting hurt to help him with something he caused. Besides, the fall isn’t that bad, at least to him. It feels great, like he’s flying again but with less effort. He may not be able to choose where he lands, but that’s life, right?
One of his friends from the ground showed up, arms out in hopes of catching him and helping him down. Does the smile on his face not show how happy he is? He doesn’t need saving, pushing the man away to keep him from touching him. He tries again, clearly too proud to admit defeat and realize that he doesn’t need to be caught. Hurt and worry stain his face but he’ll understand once he hits the ground that he didn’t need to be doing this.
If anything, he’s doing the right thing, keeping him from being burnt with him. He knows the fire on his back could hurt him too, drag him down so that they fall together. It’s burnt him slightly already, the same can’t happen to him too. He’s worked so hard, harder than him even to be able to fly; he shouldn’t have to lose it all in an attempt to save it.
His friend flies back down, the clouds parting where he flew through, a speck of green peeking through. He grinned, knowing it was only a matter of time before he faced the ground. He had zero regrets, everything he did led up to brightening his life, reaching the sun and soaking in its warmth.
He fell through the clouds, the sun out of sight and the ground not too far away.
Except, it wasn’t the ground under him. The same dark blue from ages ago was below him, taunting him as if to tell him that he can’t escape the cold. That he was always doomed to drown in the freezing cold ocean.
Still, he has no regrets. The warmth he has might be fleeting, but it was worth it. Some may call it a tragedy, a mistake, but what’s wrong with getting what he so desperately needed, even if it was for a moment? He would die anyways, rather from the ocean or the fire, and he’d much rather go out smiling than floundering. He’d hold onto the memory for as long as he can, use it to fuel his escape from the water. Taking in every second, he throws his head back and laughs, the tears evaporating from his fire.
He wonders what he looks like to other people, those on the ground and those in the air. Does he look like a star; beautifully and blazing as he descends to those who don’t know him, and something disappointing, yet predictable to those who do? Is it more like a faulty spacecraft, something horrible and upsetting, doomed to cause destruction? He isn’t one to care what people think of him, he’s just curious though.
Part of him hates his wings, regrets putting them on his back and going high. The other part knows he can’t hate them now, they’re melted onto his back, fused with his flesh. They’re like another limb, impossible to get rid without damaging his body. He doesn’t know who he would be without them now, he’s worked so hard on them that he can’t imagine his life without them.
The water is getting closer, he could feel the frosty ocean breeze under him, sending shivers down his spine. It isn’t the same as the earlier breeze, its wind more exciting, more comforting than the numbing air below him. He could’ve prevented it, taken the risk and let his friend catch him, but he enjoyed the fall too much. It barely even felt like one, he wouldn’t have realized that he was going to fall back into the water at the end of it.
He feels his back hit the water, the fire under him extinguishing under him the moment he touches it.
He’s so cold.
He’s pulling himself under, his wings dragging him down. It isn’t like before, where he could keep his head afloat. There’s nothing for him to cling onto, the only thing around him is freezing cold water.
It was a bad decision to refuse help, he wishes he did. They all probably left him, pushed away with no desire to pull him from the deep end that he sent himself to. He shut his eyes, not wanting to risk getting water in them. Crying was useless, any tears that escaped simply blended into the ocean around him.
Was it worth it? Was the small amount of euphoria worth the despair he feels right now? He didn’t realize just how bad the water would feel again, too used to the feeling of soaring in the sky. He’s crashed a few times while testing, but it’s never been this bad, never this deep.
He reaches his arm out, hoping that someone, anyone would pull him from the ocean onto the land, save him from dying in this ocean. Who would? There’s no one else in these waters, no one he can contact to ask for help.
His own hubris, his need to escape the cold, bitter feeling in himself, was his rise and his downfall.
He didn’t expect to open his eyes again, especially not on land.
He’s still sopping wet, but he’s warm . Not as much as he was before he hit the water, but there’s still a fuzzy, warm feeling in him, like a hug from a family member. Blinking, he let his eyes focus, staring at the group of people nearby, all chattering amongst themselves. He knows some of those faces, his friends being most of them, but who were the others?
Did they know about his fall, how he caused it? Were they simply dragged into it out of kindness?
His closest friend locked eyes with him, realizing that he’s awake with a smile.
“Who are they?” He asks.
“Your family,” he replies. He didn’t realize he had a family, he assumed they all died beforehand. Yet here he is, introducing the ‘strangers’ to him as his family. Did he mean all of them, including his friends from the ground? Were they family too? He stretched out his hand to him, a candle in his hand.
The fire danced on the wick, heating up his hands and face. It wasn’t the same as his wings from before, but it still felt comforting on him. Could he have gotten his warmth from the land? Did he ever truly need to go to the sun? The warmth they brought to him was much softer, much safer than the burning, fiery feeling he had from the sun.
He stared at the family, no, his family in front of him. His vision was clouded, his view of them blocked out as he rose, just as how he never noticed the water below him when he fell. A smile crept on his face as tears pooled under his eyes. He hasn’t cried in a while, there’s no fire or water to stop him from doing it.
Harvard fell in love with the sun, loved the temporary happiness that it brought him.
Maybe he can grow to love the ground too.