Chapter Text
It was a bright night. The moon was plump and full. It shone off the sea waves like the white feathers of the wings I was checking over. Making sure they worked. Making sure they would work. My father had spoken of no other subject for the past 20 years. We were wrongly imprisoned here when I was an infant, and now we would use our wings to fly away. Or at least that's the basic rundown of the story. He lay in the corner of the room, fallen fast asleep while inspecting his wings. His tan skin was lit by the few candles littered across the room. I wondered about so many things about his plan. It was certainly desperate and a little faulty, but it seemed just as believable as the physiology of the minotaur my dad assisted in defeating. I loved my father, but not as much as I figured a son should. He was kind only sometimes, and though he kept me alive, I found his emotional comfort left something to be desired.
I was broken from my thoughts by a warm voice. " Do you think they are ready?" I turned to the one solitary window where the voice came from. There he sat. Crouched like a feline on the sill. He could almost pass as human if it weren't for his milky white gaze and the rays of light that shone from it. Apollo. " I hope so. I replied. The sun god had been visiting my prison since my 21st year. When the wings were in their final stages. He said he admired my craftsmanship and found it impressive. He said I was a resilient and interesting character, whatever that meant. He turned and sat, legs dangling from the precariously high ledge, and pulled out a stringed instrument he had called a lyre. " Well. Good." He said, gently plucking the lyre's strings into a sort of melody. I leaned on the edge of the opening and stared up at him. He was of the most picturesque beauty. Not that I could give a fair opinion on the appearance of anyone since I had only met two beings. But he truly looked as if he were born from the sun. He had freckles that shone like gold. Though the books in the tower did not have truly justifying depictions of gold, I imagined that's what it looked like. And though I had never seen someone who had blonde hair, I was without a doubt that his short, fluffy tufts of hair were the best. I had never told him this; I didn't think he would realize it as I did. As far as I could tell, it was purely platonic; I could find him breathtaking and extremely intelligent without being in love with him. Right? It was completely normal for humans to enjoy the idea of being intimately close to a higher deity without it being romantic.
" Will you be here tomorrow morning?" I asked quietly. " Perhaps." He stopped playing his strings to think about it. " I would not want to interfere with your performance." He thought aloud. " Why ?" I half mocked. " You think you would make me 'perform' differently?" He snorted with a slight smirk. Something about him, maybe his quiet, or the constant gaze he held when staring out at the sea, told me he was solemn about something. Maybe a loss, or a stress that plagued him. But it was certain that he could be happier than he was. So it was always interesting to see him smiling. " Do you wish me to be there?" He asked quietly. " You are my dearest friend," I stated. He looked at me with something like shock. He broke his gaze. " Yes, well..."
" Maybe I shouldn't come then."
The words stung. He was quiet for a few moments, and I thought he would leave. But instead, I was met with a peering face. " I've never noticed your eyes in the moonlight." He observed. I looked back at him, my face becoming hot. " They're pleasing." He commented, preoccupied with them. " So are yours." I returned. Pulling in closer. " I meant what I said, about you being my friend," I muttered. " And is that all it is?" He mumbled back. We both drew in closer again, he bending down. To better meet my face. It was silent for a moment. I felt a gentle breeze blow across my face. I closed my eyes, and our lips touched. I was shocked to the bone with ecstasy and warmth. It was terrifying and wild and beautiful and terrifying again. After what felt like minutes, he pulled away with a gasp. I backed away a step. I blinked, and he ceased to be on the window. Just blipped out of existence. It was just me. Just my soft breaths and the wind and the waves. My face was still flushed. It was over. Something in that moment crossed his face. A look he had never given me before. I knew he would not return. Something deep in my gut told me this.
I felt hot tears prick the sides of my eyes. I was an easy crier. I cried when I was two after falling a few feet from the ground. I cried when I was ten after a dove hit the side of our tower and plummeted into the sea below. I cried when I was fifteen because I was without any other company than my father, who had no goals in mind but to leave this stupid tower. And now, twenty-two years old and I was crying after my first kiss. Because I had ruined the only real friendship I had. It was all so stupid. I was stupid for doing that. I could only console myself in our escape tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything would change. That's what I told myself as I sank to the floor of the tower. As I held my head between my knees and let my tears fall. I decided that I would make two escapes tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.