Page 74 of Icarus

“Can you stay?”

Many emotions flew across Helios’s face in quick succession before he settled on something like resignation.

“Okay.”

Tazienki Park

It was less frightening than many things, to be naked in this room.

Icarus put his clothes in a neat stack against the wall and slipped easily into the bath. It was a little over five feet deep, good for standing in. The water was warm enough for him to gasp on contact.

He looked up at Helios, who had his back to him. Helios seemed to be having some kind of struggle. He had the large bath towel draped over his shoulders as he got undressed, kicking his pants messily to the side to keep a firm grip on the cloth. Even holding it close with one hand as he wrestled his shirt over his head.

It was curious.

Icarus ducked under the water and scratched his fingers through his hair, then popped up, wiping the drops from his eyes.

At the very moment when he could see, Helios dropped his towel and moved to quickly get into the water.

“Wait.”

Helios froze. Crouched on the edge, his arm tight across his chest, knees pressed too close together. He looked scared.

Icarus crossed the basin in a few short strides until they were near.

“I want to see you,” Icarus said plainly.

Misery, then determination, and Helios slowly stood with his toes at the edge of the pool.

From this angle he was as large as a god, backlit and gleaming, goose-bumped hair glowing ember. He was hard in some places and curiously soft in others. The curve of his chest was unusual, his hips were trim from dance but still, unusual. He looked different, where he should look the same as Icarus. Not like a girl, exactly. But . . . different. Unique.

Icarus’s gaze passed Helios’s shoulders and he stared up into his face. He could see shame there starting to turn to defiance, then into anger. So, he placed a hand on Helios’s ankle. Slid it up until he was holding Helios’s calf. Ignored the way it made him feel and persisted.

“There is a statue like you in Warsaw,” he said.

He wondered at the picture they made.

Icarus dark and small, in the water, head tilted back in devout wonder. Helios, red like the sun, gold in the light, standing above him.

“You were made the same way as the angels.”

Icarus would know.

Helios looked away from him, still nervous. But he stood there, like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“I can’t be the only person who’s seen you,” Icarus breathed.

Helios shrugged and put his arm across his chest again. “I used to get around a lot. People like it, if that’s what they’re looking for.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t like it? Fuck, you’re trembling.” Icarus was starting to feel bad for asking for this. “Come here. Get in.”

Helios crouched immediately. Icarus took a step back, let him slide into the water. But he stayed close. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Helios’s humiliated skin.

“Intersex,” Helios said, stubbornly. “I’m not trans. I was born like this, though it shouldn’t matter either way.”

“There’s no one to fight here. It’s just me.” Icarus raised a hand and traced the edge of Helios’s shoulder in the air above it. Near enough that water dripped from his fingers to Helios’s skin, but not enough to touch.

He reached, stroking the warmth of steam across the dark hidden place of Helios’s under arm, then across his collar and up to his throat. Helios tilted his head back, giving Icarus more room.