"Hi, my name is Ícaro, just like the one in mythology, who made wax wings to fly..."

Ícaro said shyly when the history teacher made you sit next to him in the third class. He had his headphones on, as usual, his autism ID badge around his neck: along with colorful puzzle pieces and a photo of him, he seemed to be quite young at the time, at least a teenager. He moved his chair slightly away from yours as you sat down next to him, a little uneasy from the proximity.