Ethan locked up everything, stepped out into the quiet street, and began the long walk home under a blanket of stars.
His mind was in complete turmoil.
Now that I know how I feel about Madison... how am I even supposed to act? Ethan thought, staring up at the vast, indifferent night sky.
He let out a long, heavy breath, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.
"Am I even suited for this?" Ethan murmured to the empty street. "For love... and everything that comes with it?"
He dragged his feet up the front steps, unlocked the door, and slipped inside without making a sound. Bypassing the living room entirely, he went straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and collapsing face-first onto the bed without bothering to turn on the lights.
He lay there in the dark for a long time, listening to the quiet hum of the house.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Ethan? It's me," his mother's soft voice called from the hallway.
"Yeah, Mom?" Ethan replied, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Is everything alright, Ethan?"
"Yeah, Mom. Just... really tired after work."
A quiet silence lingered on the other side of the door for a few seconds.
"Alright. Get some rest then," she said softly. "But if there's ever anything on your mind... you can always talk to me. I'm always here for you."
A sudden wave of intense warmth bloomed in Ethan's chest—and before he could stop them, hot tears welled in his eyes.
"I'll let you sleep now," his mother added, her voice full of quiet strength. "Just remember, Ethan... you are never alone. Your mother is still alive and kicking."
A single tear slipped down his cheek, soaking into the fabric of his pillow.
What is wrong with me? Ethan thought, gripping the bedsheets tightly.
I don't even know what I'm feeling right now... What is happening to me?
"Goodnight, my sweet boy," she whispered softly before her footsteps faded down the hall.
Ethan rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
VIBRATE.
The screen of his phone illuminated the room with a soft blue glow. He picked it up and unlocked the display. It was a text from Madison.
Madison: Is everything okay? You looked a little down when I left.
Ethan: I'm fine. Just tired.
Madison: Oh, okay. Get some sleep!
Ethan locked the phone and tossed it away.
"What is going on with me?" Ethan muttered, his voice cracking as another tear escaped his eye. "I'm happy... but there's this heavy, suffocating sadness stuck in my chest."
He buried his face in his hands. "Why am I so afraid...?" He clenched his fists.
Everything changed, after that day... Ethan thought.
Ethan's mind drifted to the past...
The roar of twin jet engines filled the cabin of a luxurious private aircraft.
Seven-year-old Ethan pressed his face against the oval window, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Woah! Dad, look! We're above the clouds!" Ethan shouted, turning back to the man sitting across from him.
Damian sat in a plush leather armchair, wearing his signature black leather jacket. A warm, brilliant smile lit up his face.
"We're going even higher than that, big guy," Damian chuckled.
"REALLY?!" Little Ethan bounced up and down in his seat.
Damian gave a firm nod. "Yes sir. It's going to be a long flight, though. I think it's time for my top operative to get some rest."
Ethan nodded dutifully as his father led him into the private sleeping berth at the back of the jet.
Damian reached into a storage compartment, pulling out a set of thick, heavy winter clothes and laying them neatly on the side table.
"When you wake up, put these on first thing, okay?" Damian instructed.
"Okay!"
"Where we're going... it's extremely cold," Damian warned with a dramatic shudder.
Ethan jumped onto the mattress. "Really?! Colder than home?"
Damian laughed, patting his son's head. "Way colder."
Ethan bounced on the mattress a few times in excitement.
"Easy there, champion," Damian warned playfully.
"Dad, I'm super strong!" Ethan declared, puffing out his small chest.
"Oh yeah?" Damian raised an eyebrow. "Show me."
Little Ethan drew back his arm and threw a tiny punch straight into the padded wall. "See?!"
Damian gasped, holding his hands to his head in exaggerated shock. "Woah! My Ethan is very strong!"
Ethan grinned proudly. "I'm super fast, too! Count!"
Before Damian could answer, Ethan bolted toward the far end of the berth, tripped over his own feet, scrambled back up without missing a beat, and sprinted back.
As he reached the bed, Damian scooped him up into his arms, lifting him high into the air. "Woah! Look at that speed!"
"How fast was I, Dad?!" Ethan asked eagerly.
"Exactly one second," Damian lied smoothly.
Ethan beamed with pride. "I'm strong like Dad!"
"Nah," Damian said softly, ruffling his hair. "You're going to be way faster, way stronger, and way more dangerous than your dad."
Damian then stepped up to the wall, swung a slow, weak punch against the padding, and immediately pulled his hand back, wringing his wrist. "Ouch! Oh, my hand!"
"Dad! I'll beat up that wall for you!" Ethan yelled, stepping forward with his fists raised.
"No, no, Ethan," Damian laughed, holding him back. "You'll destroy the whole plane! For now, get some sleep."
Ethan nodded and struggled to climb back into the tall bed. Damian clapped loudly like a fan at a stadium, making Ethan grin from ear to ear.
Damian leaned down, kissing his son on the cheek several times before switching off the overhead light and stepping outside, pulling the door shut.
Ethan lay in the warm dark, a smile still on his face.
After a while, he decided to change his clothes in to the one's his father put for him. Ethan wanted to surprise his father. Ethan went to sleep.
Then... the nightmare began.
A deafening explosion rocked the aircraft, throwing Ethan against the bulkhead.
"THE PLANE IS OUT OF CONTROL!" a voice screamed over the intercom.
"WE'RE GOING DOWN OVER SIBERIA!"
In an instant, thick black smoke and roaring flames tore through the cabin, surrounding Ethan's room.
"DAD!" Ethan shrieked in terror.
"ETHAN! I'D GOT YOU!"
The berth door was kicked off its hinges. Damian burst through the smoke, scooping Ethan into his arms just as the airframe tore completely in two. The rear section of the jet sheared off into the open sky.
Damian wrapped his entire body around Ethan, holding his head tight against his chest as they plunged into the freezing sky.
"Don't worry, Ethan! I've got a parachute!" Damian shouted, his voice swallowed by the roaring gale.
Then... pitch black.
Pain.
Blinding, excruciating cold.
Little Ethan jolted awake, his lungs burning as he gasped for air. It felt as though his ears, fingers, and nose were snapping like glass.
He sat up, looking around in utter horror. There was nothing in any direction but a endless, white tundra under a moonless sky.
"DAD!" the child sobbed, his voice lost in the howling blizzard.
"DAD, WHERE ARE YOU?!"
He pulled the thick hood over his head, shivering violently. His hands were completely bare, turning a deep, sickly blue. He was stranded in the middle of a vast, frozen wasteland.
Stumbling to his feet, Ethan began to run through the deep snow, crying hysterically.
"DAD!"
The wind whipped harder, blinding him with whiteout powder. Ethan tripped over a hidden ridge and face-planted into the snow.
"WHERE AM I?! DAD! MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?!" he screamed into the storm.
"FAAAAAATHER!"
He forced himself back up, running blindly. But as he looked down, he noticed a crimson trail staining the white snow behind him. A warm, sticky sensation spread across his left flank.
He pulled back his jacket—blood was pooling heavily from a jagged shrapnel wound in his waist.
Terror seized his heart. He tried to keep running, but the massive blood loss took its toll within seconds. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the frozen ground, unable to feel his arms or legs.
"Father..." Ethan whispered, his vision blurring as darkness crept in from the edges.
THUD. THUD.
Then, the crunch of tires. A car pulled over nearby, and a woman stepped out into the freezing air.
"What is a boy doing out here in this cold?" her voice echoed.
Ethan had looked up through blurred, tear-filled eyes to see her face. It was Madison's mother. In the background, he vaguely remembered the silhouette of a boy standing near the car—the first and last time he ever saw him.