Page 72 of Icarus

Icarus looked down at Helios and thought about what he was saying. Thought about his father rubbing his wrists and the joints of his fingers, the braces he wore every day. He thought about how he liked to soak his own hands in the hottest water possible while washing dishes, the ache that sometimes woke him up at night.

Then he knelt on the floor next to him. Helios immediately hid his face in his own arms.

“I’m not going to stop climbing your wall until the year is over,” Icarus said simply. “I’ve been doing it for almost six years. And that was without you being inside waiting for me.”

“How could you do this? Your entire body must feel . . . must feel . . .” Helios’s ears were bright red.

“It feels like an ache, everywhere. Like a good stretch gone too tight. I always thought it was because I was moving in ways that other people often didn’t.” Icarus chuckled. “EDS, huh.”

Helios sniffed. “It might not be that specifically,” he said wetly. “There’s other kinds of connective disorders, but that one seems most likely.”

“Dude, are you crying?”

“Shut up.”

The water didn’t bead on the unfinished wood floors. It just sank in and made the planks dark and spotted.

“Why does this mean so much to you?” Icarus asked, softly.

Helios took a shuddering breath and looked at him, eyes PMS 176, cheeks PMS 708.

“How should I feel, to know that coming to see me hurts you every time? That if we didn’t meet, you might have gone your whole life not knowing? Fuck you, Icarus,” he said, without heat. “Fuck you.”

Icarus knew Helios was upset, but he wanted to grin and grin and grin. His heart sang at the fact that something meaningless like his discomfort brought Helios to tears. No one had ever felt that way about him and it was so fresh and new.

“I’ll keep coming if he keeps you in here another year,” Icarus declared.

“Fuck you.”

“And another year and another year.”

Helios pushed Icarus over with one strong arm and Icarus collapsed onto the floor next to him, giggling.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Icarus laughed until the feeling centered itself in his chest, warm and comfortable.

“If he lets you out, though, that will be the last time I ever come back here,” Icarus admitted.

Helios pulled his arm down and gosh he was so pink and splotchy. He looked terrible. He looked delicious.

Icarus gazed up at him until Helios reached over with one finger and dragged it down the bridge of his nose.

“You grew up in here, didn’t you,” Helios whispered.

Icarus’s smile faltered.

“This is my home, but I didn’t grow up here. You’ve spent your whole life in this house,” Helios said. He caressed the tip of Icarus’s nose again and Icarus shivered.

“Have you ever seen the grand baths?” Helios asked.

He did it once more and Icarus arched up into his touch, helpless. “What is there to steal in a bath, Helios?” he purred.

“Nothing. I’ll take you then. After dinner.”

Foam

The back of his neck prickled with the weight of Helios’s gaze as Icarus shredded charred pork. He mixed the meat with the rice and transferred everything to the deep saucepan. Drizzled it with oil. Turned the flame on low. Covered it. Gripped the edge of the counter and let his head fall until his chin touched his chest.