Page 116 of Icarus

Helios was lying on his side and looking vaguely green.

“So, it turns out my ribs were just lightly cracked and then when we fell they actually broke so I had to have surgery,” he said, eyes bright. “I’m not sure what medication they gave me for it. But I’m so awake and I have so much energy, but I also feel like I’m going to throw up. How are you doing? How do your arms feel? I’ve never heard a scream like that in my entire life. Did you know you set off some car alarms?”

“Helios,” Icarus whispered, exhausted.

“That diner guy was super nice. He brought us some food and coffee, which the nurses aren’t letting me have, unfortunately. They won’t let me get up and feed you either because of the rib situation. So you’re going to have to let me know when you want to eat so I can press a button to call them. Since you can’t press any buttons.”

Helios took a second to breathe then soldiered on. “Anyway, your friends are really worried, but they had to go home because it’s not visiting hours and they’re not family. I think they called your dad and I told them not to call my dad. But I’m worried they didn’t listen.” Helios got quiet then.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’ll figure this out,” Icarus said. He could feel another wave of sleepiness washing over him. “Can you come a bit closer?”

Helios looked thoughtful. Then, he curled his ankle around the rung at the bottom of his gurney and reached over with one arm and pulled himself closer using the curtain. He paused, breathing fast through the pain. Then he managed to snag the edge of Icarus’s bed and pulled himself even closer, until the tops of their gurneys were touching. He wrapped a wrist around his IV and slowly dragged his saline over until the line wasn’t stretched tight.

“Okay,” Helios gasped. “Hopefully they won’t push us back when we go to sleep.”

Icarus smiled softly. “Hopefully.”

“Can I use your phone to call my mom?” Helios asked.

“It’s in my clothes, wherever they are. Call a nurse and they’ll get it for you.” Icarus could feel himself fading fast.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he mumbled before the dark took him. “I missed you.”

Fly

When Icarus woke up again, Helios wasn’t in his room anymore.

There was a Post-it note on his chest with the text facing him that said “getting moved to a different room. They’ll come for you too in a bit! laterrrrr” He smiled. Helios’s handwriting was terrible.

Unlike the first time he’d opened his eyes here, Icarus felt fully alert. He took a good look around the room. His clothes were in a neat stack on the chair by the window and they had left his bags and harnesses there for him too.

Icarus kicked the blanket off his feet to check if he was cuffed to the bed, and he wasn’t, which was a relief. The food the diner owner had brought was on the nightstand next to him and probably stone-cold. The clock next to it said it was 4:03 a.m., but it was still dark out.

He closed his eyes again, even though he wasn’t sleepy anymore.

“Son.”

Icarus kept his eyes closed for a moment longer before facing his father. He looked at Angus and didn’t say a word. Just studied him as he was: crouched in the hospital window, gloves, braces, harness, and socks. Dressed for stealing, silent as a predator.

Angus stepped down into the room and closed the window behind him.

“Did you know we have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome?” Icarus mentioned, looking at the extra gear his father wore when climbing. “It’s why our joints hurt. Helios taught me that.”

Angus didn’t reply. As he got closer to the bed, Icarus desperately wished he could push him back hard again.

“Icarus, I’m sorry,” Angus said.

There was no apology this man could give him that would suffice, so Icarus ignored it. He was so angry that it had tipped over into exhaustion. He didn’t even have the energy left in him to yell.

“You should probably be fleeing the country right now,” Icarus said. “What are you doing here?”

Angus swallowed. “This is the last time we’ll see each other, I think. There are some important things I need to tell you before that happens.”

Icarus closed his eyes again. “Important to me, or important to you?”

He was sure he was about to hear some kind of lecture about Orpheus’s disc or about how reckless he’d been. Angus never spared an opportunity for that sort of thing.

Angus pulled a chair away from the window and settled into it. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands steepled in front of his face.