Page 49 of Icarus

Luca hugged him like he had every right to. Like they had ever done it before. Swept his arms under Icarus’s arms, wrapped one around his upper back, curled the other around his waist. Pushed his chin into the curve of Icarus’s neck. Held him full and sweet. Tears sprang to Icarus’s eyes without his permission.

“Come, sit.” Luca pulled back from him. “Let’s do shots once my cousin stops screaming at us.”

“I’m not screaming!” Julian shouted over Icarus’s horrified, “Cousin?!”

“Yeah,” Luca said, like it wasn’t tearing Icarus’s mind in half.

Akeem moved over so Icarus could fit, while Celestina draped herself over all of the boys. She put her feet in Patrick’s lap and her head in Luca’s, leaving her chest and stomach draped over Icarus and Akeem.

Luca placed a gentle hand over Celestina’s box braids and continued arguing with Julian about taking the couch out of the living room and putting it outside.

Eventually, Julian threw up his hands. “Whatever! I’m not going to tell, but if Aunt Margie asks, I’m not covering for you,” he hissed, then turned to Icarus. “See you later, punk. Don’t get too fucked up.”

Luca shook his head. “He’s not going to tell. He loves me.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Icarus.

He reached to the side and grabbed a lime. Unhingedly, Luca bit the top off and spit it into the night, then started passing shot glasses down the couch.

“Who wants tequila?”

Haze

Icarus liked parties and he liked tequila. He liked this couch and he liked sitting next to Akeem, who spread out his knees to survey the party like an emperor.

This was his fifth shot.

Luca’s face swam before him, soft and friendly. Celestina’s hands were in his hair.

“There’s stuff in it,” he mumbled. Warning her.

“I like seeing you try, like this,” he heard Celestina say.

Suddenly, Akeem and Patrick weren’t next to him anymore, and it was much quieter than it was before. Luca’s arm was around his shoulder and Celestina was in his lap and his hands were on her waist and his skin felt so strange. Like everything was muted. Finally, he knew what it meant to feel normal.

“I can’t sleep here,” Luca huffed into Icarus’s neck. “It’s so loud. I just want to sleep.”

“Where are you going to go? It’s your house.”

Icarus giggled. “We’re neighbors you know. Five blocks or so.”

Luca pulled back, grimacing. “Five blocks isn’t neighbors.”

Icarus closed his eyes. “It’s close.”

“Here, here.” A vodka-soaked lemon wedge was pressed against his lips and he opened them, licking the juice.

“You’re supposed to bite it!” Celestina laughed. She pulled it away from him, then leaned back in a beautiful arc, her braids brushing Icarus’s knees as she bit into the lemon and took a swig of the half-finished bottle of rye.

“Wow,” Icarus breathed. “I wish I could paint that.”

“You could.” Luca lay his head on Icarus’s shoulder. “She’d let you. Would you paint me? You have to be nice to your friends.”

“I . . . I am nice. I try to be.”

Blood

The wind blew through his hair as they ran.

Celestina whooped loud into the night, galloping beside him.