Page 56 of Icarus

Angus didn’t say anything to him that night, but he did get into some kind of fight on the phone that he went into the nearly soundproof storage room to have.

Icarus lay in the middle of his bed, where he’d been squished between Celestina and Luca. It still sort of smelled like them. He knew he should change his sheets, get the drunk sweat out. But it felt indulgent, greedy to leave them here.

He didn’t know if all friendships were like this. He had nothing to compare it to.

He wanted to roll around with them like fox pups in a warren. He wanted to nip and get nipped in return.

He understood now, the difference between that and what he felt with Helios.

Celestina, Luca, and Sorrel were so easy. Helios was hard.

Being with Helios felt like chess or a waltz. Icarus was surefooted in many ways, but not this. He didn’t know how to play. But it was thrilling.

Blind

Icarus pulled his pillow from under his head to turn it to the cool side, when he spotted it.

Chicken scratch in the corner on the wall.

He eyed the shelf behind his head. A pencil had definitely been pulled from his collection: #1 lead too soft to write with, really.

Luca Gallo had written his phone number, and Celestina’s and Julian’s for extra credit. The soft lead had smeared and was half rubbed away by the sheets.

The Beginning

Icarus brought Helios more coffee. His hands were cold from the climb in October air, so he held the thermos while Helios drank.

“The party itself wasn’t too bad. I like loud crowded places, but Luca’s house was groaning under the weight of all those people. There was this frenetic energy there that smoothed out the more we drank. Is it always like that?”

Helios smirked. “Most of the time. It starts out a bit spiky feeling, then the more you dance, the more you drink, the world gets blurry.”

“Like going from kaleidoscope to abstract watercolor,” Icarus commented curiously. “I liked it. But, again, things got pretty out of hand.”

“What did it feel like to have them in your house?” Helios took a sip and closed his eyes. “Before you woke up again, obviously.”

Icarus sighed and rolled the thermos from hand to hand. “It was good. It was really good,” he said quietly.

Helios clicked his tongue. “So eloquent.”

Icarus shrugged. “It was such a private feeling . . . I don’t really have words for it yet. It was just good. And then, in the morning it wasn’t. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horrible and scared and upset.”

Helios placed the mug on his nightstand, then reached forward to cup the thermos with Icarus.

“If it hurts so bad, why do you do it?” Helios asked.

“What?”

“Why do you come here to take this stuff from him?” Helios tried again, but Icarus shook his head.

“No, no that was rhetorical. Pause. How much do you know about all of this? Just everything relating to this?” Icarus said.

Helios just stared at him.

“When we met—” Icarus started to raise his voice. “—You called me by my father’s name. How much do you know?”

“Shh,” Helios said urgently, glancing quickly outside the curtain. “I don’t know, dude. Our parents were friends for a long time, so there’s a picture or two of your dad in my house. Like, group family pictures. When I was a kid, I thought he was an uncle I’d never met. I just asked my mom and she told me his name.”

Icarus dropped the thermos and dug his fingernails into his thighs. His head was buzzing and he felt a bit like he was about to throw up.