Icarus

	He liked to sit there from time to time, just watching the day pass by.  Once a week, perhaps.  There was something about the old building he liked; something familiar, maybe even a little taboo.  It was unmarked, mostly, barring the scrapes where a sign must've stood years ago.

	The adhesive hadn't been strong enough to keep it in place, and he wasn't one to pretend he was clever enough to put together a metaphor about ruined glue and a failed business.  Grass jutted from the myriad cracks and grooves in the sidewalk leading to the boarded up entry, and he found himself parked in his usual spot just across the street underneath a leafy oak tree.

	Typically he'd come once a week and gawk, imagining the stories and lives of the various passersby that didn't seem to give the old place much notice.  Just a musty old place to them, he supposed, what with how undoubtedly busy they were with jobs and families and whatnot.  He couldn't relate, but he could pretend he understood what family meant.  His thoughts were interrupted by a deviation in the norm; today there seemed to be another joining him at the curb, neatly seated a few steps away as they both faced the dilapidated edifice.

	"You seem to come here often, young man," the gentleman spoke softly, his eyes hidden in the shade of the tree.

	The man seemed older, the skin he could see craggy and worn, the hair jutting from beneath the bowler hat white and thoroughly well-lived.  He'd never seen him before.

	"From time to time," he answered, "Yeah."

	"Once a week," the man whispered, "would you say?"

	"I'm not in the mood for anything weird, old timer.  I'm not into men, ancient or otherwise."

	He'd lived and experienced enough in his short time on the planet to know not to trust an overly friendly face.  Especially one given without cause.  Especially from some antiquated pervert that had been watching him.

	"You worry too much, young man.  I'm here to watch.  Just like you."

	"Suit yourself."

	The old man chuckled a bit, amused at something or other.  He didn't really care as long as he was left in peace.

	"Do you know what this place used to be, young man?  I could tell you if you don't know."

	"Don't care, really.  I just like the look of the place is all."

	The older gentleman nodded, seeming to accept his brevity.

	"How old are you, boy?  Fourteen?  You can't be more than fifteen, though I'm not the best at judging the ages of people like yourself.  It's all the same to me."

	The geezer was annoying him now, and in a huff he scooted further down the curb.  Why was this guy so chatty and nosy?  He knew better than to answer, hoping that the street remained at least a little populated in the event the guy got handsy.

	The man smiled a little and coughed, attempting to hide a laugh rather poorly.

	"You know," he began slowly, "I think I'll tell you about the place.  Feel free to sit as far away as you like and listen."

	"Like I said, suit yourself."

	"You're downright charming.  This place was a failure, as you can plainly see."

	He grunted in acknowledgement, spinning an arm to press the point.

	"But it was a great success too, in a way.  I certainly wouldn't be here if not for the efforts of everyone involved."

	"What?" he asked, now a little curious, "You used to work there or something?"

	"Something like that.  This place has been closed for years, but no one has ever attempted a renovation.  Want to know why?"

	He rolled his eyes and nodded.

	"Absolutely charming," the old man chuckled, "It's because I own it."

	That grabbed his attention.

	"You own it?  Then why let it fall to shit like it has?  It's in a good spot in the city, you could probably make more than a little money with the real estate alone."

	The old man smiled.  "What can I say?  I'm sentimental."

	He chuffed at the remark.  "Can't feed yourself on sentiment."

	"No, I suppose you can't.  Still, I can't bear to make any changes to it.  It's a powerful thing for me, a lighthouse guiding me down the path.  If it can stand the test of time, so too can I."

	"You're weird."

	The elder grinned.

	"I'll take that as a compliment."

-----

	The next hour passed in relative silence, the shadow of the tree crawling down the sidewalk.  It seemed as if the man was lost in thought, brow furrowed as he stared toward the old store.

	"I spent a lot of time in that building, all those years ago," the man whispered, "but I was very different then.  I wasn't the same person I am now."

	"Yeah, time will do that to a guy, or so I hear.  I dunno."

	The man tilted his head slightly, digesting the words.

	"Time and circumstances.  I had to do many things I wasn't proud of in those days.  Things I won't tell a young man like you.  Wouldn't want you having nightmares, after all."

	He snorted, offense flooding his features.

	"I've been alone for a long time now, I don't need to be pastryfied."

	"Patronized."

	"Whatever.  You know what I meant."

	"I suppose I did.  In any case, things were different back then.  There was a man that was like a father to me.  To all of us, really.  He looked a lot like you, truth be told."

	"Yeah?"

	"Truly.  He was convinced he would set the world on fire, but his demons simply wouldn't allow it.  At least not in the way he intended."

	"Failures abound in this world, grandpop.  Nothing novel about that."

	"I suppose not.  Still, there was a moment where we all could've achieved greatness.  Maybe even changed the world if not for his arrogance.  He was punished for it, of course.  Slowly, agonizingly over many years.  A death by a thousand cuts, all serving to break him further and further until, well..."

	The man gestured toward their shared interest, just across the way.

	"...it all came crumbling down.  He was a shadow of himself when he finally passed on.  We all saw to that."

	"You're taking an awful lot of credit for some guy running his business into the ground.  Real melodramatic about it too.  Businesses fail, it happens.  There's nothing special about this one."

	The sun was starting to fall behind the horizon, the tranquil blue sky giving way to a violet hue that danced in the man's eyes.

	"It didn't end with him.  We couldn't let it.  We made sure anyone ever connected with him paid the price.  It was the least we could do."

	The old man seemed a bit closer than he was before, though he wasn't sure when he had moved.  A slight feeling of dread clutched at his guts, but something made him want to stay.  He wasn't sure what.

	"Sounds like you're obsessed with the guy."

	"No," the gentleman said softly, removing his hat from his head and turning to look at him, "not anymore.  Just tired.  Tired of the chase and all the hunting.  But that's all done now, you see.  I've finally found what I've been looking for for all these years."

	An icy torrent flooded him as the old man's eyes locked onto his own, ages of desperation and insanity etched into their depths.

	"They tried to hide you, you know.  Shifted you through government systems, foster homes, all that.  But it didn't work, did it?  All it did was delay the inevitable."

	"W-What are you on about, you lunatic?" he cried, eyes scanning the suddenly vacant street for any hope of assistance.

	"You lot always come home, eventually.  It's like a calling.  It's ingrained into you, somehow.  I won't complain though, otherwise this would never have ended.  We'd be lost in the madness forever, searching vainly.  But now we can bring things to a close."

	The man was scrambling towards him now, gangly limbs bending unnaturally as he dashed towards him.

	"Years of work and effort, all for this!  All for the slate to be wiped clean!"

	He shut his eyes, awaiting whatever doom would be visited on him by the strange creature in the bowler hat.

	"We can finally give you this.  Open your eyes, young man."

	The old man stood normally, leaning over him and sniffing his hair ever so gently.

	"Just to be sure.  Just to make absolute certain that we...know.  Tell us: what's your surname?  We took great pains to make sure it would never be taken from you."

	He paused for a moment, breath hitched and heart hammering.

	"...A-Afton, sir."

	The thing smiled, its eyes like saucers of wine twinkling in the dim light of the evening.

	"Of course it is.  Now here, take it.  And be sure not to fly too close to the sun."

	Seamus Afton blinked once and the strange creature disappeared, a light tinking of metal striking the concrete at his feet: a key.  But to what?  With a final push the sun sank into the Earth, casting a desperate ray toward the old building he had long been enamored with.