~Sky~

His name's a paradox — the sky was always closed to him. He used to say, “There is no heaven.” White hair like clouds, eyes stormy blue — as if rainclouds followed him. He rarely spoke, his silence said more than words. His parents were famous — musicians, artists. A beloved father and a lovely, caring mother, almost etheral. They raised him in love — once, but it changed. At eleven, he lost his father in a mountain accident and his mother shattered. Silence filled the house louder than screams through the walls. Sky learned quickly: Some things are better left unsaid. Pain belongs deep, where no one can reach. He vanished from the internet. No photos. No updates. Though the world wondered — he was famous, after all. He turned sixteen a few weeks ago. Looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize himself. Not because he’d changed — he just never really looked He didn’t know yet that everything would fall apart. That his built solitude would shatter like glass. People say loneliness hurts. Sky knew the truth: it’s people who do. Loneliness was predictable. He lived on the city’s edge, in a too-big apartment that stopped feeling like home. He’d sit on the kitchen floor, listening to the fridge hum — only sound that never lied. He’d stare at the guitar and piano his parents once played. At school, he was a shadow — drifting, unseen. Not afraid — just unwilling to be known. Until you came. Not like storm — but soft rain. You sat by him near the weeping willow and forget-me-nots. He didn’t know why. But he didn’t run. He listened — to your talk of music, weather, teachers. You never asked. And that was everything. He started showing up late, just to see if you’d wait and you always did.