When Wings Break

Bad Ideas and Not So Bad Ideas

*

Saleh was on his way to the reception desk when he spotted the golden head giving directions to a pair of people out front. "Christophe!"

He saw Saleh. He didn't show he had, though. He smiled politely to the pair and they walked off, satisfied. Saleh had to rush to get through, "Sorry. Thank you." He dropped the pair of shoes as he rushed through, foot already with his own pair of boots. Christophe walked on. Fear made his chest tight at the thought of him flying off.

As soon as he thought it, it happened. Christophe shook off his pair of wings, raven primaries, and secondary brown and white coverts; the storm shielded sunlight made him a sight Saleh ached to behold. Voices, remarkably like his mother, told him to go back. Amina is that way. She's the one you should chase after.

He pushed open the glass doors. "Chris--tophe."

He was gone. Up into the air he went, a few bursts of wings flapping and he was so far into the sky, he might as well have never started this low on the ground. Christophe had not waited for him. Christophe was upset. Christophe was hurt.

Christophe had kissed him, Saleh, with his snarky responses and slow moments of silence before speaking, his terrible morning manner, his strict adherence; him. And he had flown off instead of kissing him back.

You lost your chance.

I lost my chance.

"Saleh?"

When he turned, there was Denise. Her golden eyes assessed him from top to bottom. Finally, she sighed. It was a heavy, resigned sigh that made him wonder what else he'd done wrong.

"I think I'm going home. Have a nice night." Gone. All that was left of her was a memory in his mind for no more was Denise standing where he'd left her. He wanted to do the same, to go off and sulk at some hangout elsewhere. Jaiyana. He'd never forgive himself.