Page 37 of Icarus

When he turned to head back to the bed, Helios was taking a long drink.

“What do you think?” Icarus whispered.

“If you had brought me instant swill, worse than the kind they have at the airport, I’d still be fucking jazzed. But this tastes like . . . it reminds me of Intelligentsia but smoother. Sweeter,” Helios said.

He pushed the mug into Icarus’s hands. Icarus looked down at the rim, still wet from Helios’s mouth. His eyes flickered up without his permission, and Helios was watching him. His gaze liquid in the dark.

Icarus took a sip and it was . . . coffee. Bitter, smoky, rich from what had to be full fat cream, but he wasn’t a connoisseur of these things. He didn’t swallow it slow, like liquor. Like Helios.

He handed the mug back.

Helios took another sip. They traded the mug back and forth until it was empty and Helios put it on the nightstand. Then he closed the thermos even though there was still some coffee left inside.

“Can I . . . keep it and give it back to you the next time you come?” Helios asked, hopefully.

“It’s yours. It’s . . . this is for you.” Icarus cleared his throat. “I’ll uh . . . I’ll refill it when you’re done.”

Helios smiled.

“I . . . keep thinking about . . .” Icarus started then stopped. He twisted his fingers together in his lap.

“It’s okay. What are you thinking about, my friend?” Helios whispered.

Icarus’s heart kicked up and sweat broke out on the back of his neck. But the time seemed right and there was no going back from here. Not when he’d started so strong. Not when he was being looked at like this.

“I keep thinking about when we met. For the very first time.”

Helios grinned, amused. “Oh? What about it?” He crossed his legs and put his chin in his hand.

“You said, ‘How long have you been doing this?’ and you weren’t scared at all. Why?”

Helios watched him for a second before answering. “Because I recognized you. And I’m stronger than you.”

A shiver of some feeling Icarus didn’t have words for slammed into him so hard he had to hold back a gasp. Because I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than you. He’s stronger than you? He thinks he’s stronger.

“No you’re not,” Icarus said hotly.

Helios laughed quietly. “We could test it. Bet on it. Arm wrestle?”

Icarus could hold up his entire body with the strength of one hand.

“Fine. But if I win you can never say anything like that to me again,” Icarus hissed.

Helios’s amusement filled the room, like a cloud.

Torch

Helios pulled the art book from under his pillow and placed it between them. There were new bookmarks sticking out.

They both sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, elbows on the edge of the book.

“You ready?” Helios asked.

“Shut the fuck up.” Icarus clasped Helios’s hand firmly, squeezing it in warning. To his surprise and delight, Helios squeezed back, possibly harder.

“Okay! One, two, three, go!” Helios said, then crushed Icarus’s hand in a steel grip, pushing with surprising force.

Icarus was caught off guard. He fought the incredible pressure, pulling their combined hands further toward his side. Helios seemed pleased. He wasn’t straining at all, which felt so strange. Helios wasn’t stocky and athletic like Icarus was, he was willowy and graceful.