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he was dumbfounded and didn't know what to say. he watched him silently with an evil smirk adorning his lips. his heart made a rebellious lurch forwards. The cruel silence evilly gossiped with his thoughts.
"What...? No," he whispered but his words vanished in the heavy air.
he stood up from his bed and walked out, leaving him prey to his torturing thoughts and tattered memories. he laid on the floor, the cold rug less floor kissed his warm tear streaked cheeks. he thought of summer rains accompanied by its pleasant petrichor. he thought of grandfather clocks and it's dust layered wooden behinds. he thought of glossy oranges that shone in the sun but were too bitter to consume. Random thoughts ransacked his mind for calm. he felt insane.
he thought of his father's steady grip on his shoulders and of the warmth and reassurance they used to radiate. he thought of his onyx eyes that never betrayed his current emotions. his head pounded again. No, he wasn't the one. He didn't kill him.
Frail butterfly wings owned the strongest veins. Frail dandelions knew the dance of the summer winds. Frail Kings had the strongest hearts. Then why did his break so easily?
he never wanted to fall. he held strongly on to railings instead of feeling the wind lighten his body. he stood safely by the shore instead of feeling the teasing waves lick his toes. he stayed away from risks. But now that he has fallen into traps of deceiving lies and harsh truths, it was not even the hard cold ground that cushioned his fall but thorny hedges and barbed wires.
he was broken, bleeding, betrayed and breathing.
he sat up from the floor on an instinct, rotated the door knob, threw the door open, walked out, climbed the ladder and stood on the roof. The snow and sleet threatened to trip him down. The wind and the darkness threatened to chill him to the core. he felt insane. The adrenaline level in his blood turned him utterly insane in mad pleasure. he felt like laughing.
For once instead of feeling his fear grapple his gut, he was mesmerised by the immaculate beauty of that holy night. At ten at night of that glorious day, when celebrations were confined within the warmth of homes, a lone boy stood on his dangerously slippery roof and saw that lone star amidst the fog. Golden fairy lights draped over trees glowed like fireflies in starless nights.
The world was silent. his head ache worsened. his vision blurred. The wind blew again and he thought it felt like a gust of wind sent by the flapping celestial wings of an angel. he felt at peace. he felt as if everything was going to be fine.
