"Icarus flew too close to the sun, but at least he flew."
-Jeremy Robert Johnson
He was your Icarus, and you were his sun. That's how you saw it, anyway. Together, you formed the wings that would carry you to the top of the world...and then you'd b...
"Suzume started school today. She made a lot of new friends, but she came home covered in dirt and food."
My fingers combed freely through sandy blond, the slight build up of grease not bothering me at all.
"She, uh, drew a picture for you...Would you like to see it..?" I paused, waiting for a verbal response, but all I recieved was a sluggish shrug. Sighing, I turned from my seat upon the arm of the chair and reached to grab the sheet of paper I had entered with, holding it up before my husband.
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Our daughter had begged and pleaded with me to allow her to give it to him herself, but something told me it wasn't a good idea. The man I called my husband wasn't Keigo at the moment. He hadn't been for a long time. I never knew how he would react.
Keigo's dull amber eyes scanned the drawing for a few moments before he turned his head away, releasing a slow breath. "Tell her it looks good..."
Well...at least he's speakingtonight...
Keigo always had his ups and downs. After he had been found amidst the carnage of the Liberation War, he had been forcefully 'retired' due to his injuries, both physical and mental. It had taken him almost seventeen months to even utter a word.
I had given birth to Suzume without him, thankfully having Fuyumi by my side as support. Even when we had finally gone home from the hospital, he didn't seem interested in having much to do with her. He'd watch her, stare at her, but never once made any attempt to hold her in his arms.
When he had finally spoken, it was coarse and damaged by the burns he had endured, but it had still given me hope. That was because he had been speaking to our daughter. At nine months old, Suzume had crawled over to where he had been seated on the couch, pulling herself up to her first stand, just to reach him.
"Good girl..."
When he had said those two words, giving our little girl a light pat on the head, I cried. I cried so hard that I almost threw up, I was so relieved. Even if he rarely spoke, he still had the ability to.
The doctors had told me many things. Countless reasons for his state. Brain injury, post-traumatic stress disorder, catatonic depression, cranial trauma, possible pre-existing health issues. Prescriptions and referrals to rehab, therapy, so many medications and remedies. They didn't help.
The fall had resulted in trauma to both his skull and spine. He could still walk, but it caused him great pain. He had been prescribed Vicodin, but it was rare for him to take it. It almost seemed like he wanted to suffer.
Personally, I believed everything he had endured in his life had caught up with him, and the loss of his wings had been the final straw. The one true freedom he felt he had had in the world had been ripped - burned - away, never to return.
