Page 77 of Icarus

Helios snorted.

“Are you afraid of clowns? Do you sing horribly in the shower? Come on, give me something to work with here, man.” Icarus nudged Helios with his shoulder, hard. “I’m grasping at straws.”

Helios began to laugh. “No no, there’s nothing.”

“Oh no, it’s gotta be something,” Icarus said darkly. “We’ve already gallivanted through medical trauma, abuse, addiction, my weird joints, extracurricular genders, almost getting off from your touching my face, a dance recital, Roman baths in the middle of Michigan—”

Helios was laughing hard now.

“There’s nothing else!” He gazed up at Icarus, eyes crinkled with fondness.

“Are you sure?” Icarus demanded.

“I’m sure!”

“Okay, good. I have a surprise for you.”

Swallow

Helios looked at the $800 bottle of wine Icarus pulled out of his backpack.

He rubbed the last of the tears from his face and shrugged helplessly.

“I can’t have that. I . . .”

“Oh—oh shit. Well. It was gonna be a gift or whatever . . . Do you want to go pour it out with me instead, then?” Icarus asked, shaking the bottle at him like that was more exciting than drinking it.

Helios went downstairs to grab a bottle opener and they reunited in the bathroom next door.

“I had to buy this from my dad, otherwise I knew he wouldn’t give it to me. He’s a bit of a tight ass about anything besides art, art supplies, and clothes,” Icarus admitted, while Helios twisted the cork out.

“We should really make a Horrible Dads club. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find members.” Helios tossed the opener with the cork still attached into the sink.

“It smells good.”

“It should, it cost me almost a grand.”

“What?” Helios shouted.

Icarus grabbed the bottle and upended it into the sink before anything else could be said about it. They watched the wine gurgle out in spurts, red, rich, and fragrant.

Icarus turned on the faucet and rinsed it away. Then he swirled a bit of water in the bottle, poured it out, and stuck the cork back in.

Before Icarus could turn to head back into the bedroom, Helios caught him by the cheek and kissed him on the forehead, long and sweet.

“Thank you. This was . . . a very nice gift.”

Nightshade

Helios fell asleep eventually, but Icarus couldn’t.

He watched the rise and fall of Helios’s chest and thought about the horrors he’d heard tonight.

He didn’t know if he could handle the responsibility of this, but he wanted to try. Besides, Icarus was sure that someone else, in this same position—hearing about the life he lived—would be awake while Icarus fell into a fitful sleep.

It didn’t feel fair.

Earlier, Helios had thought hard about what he would do to make Icarus comfortable. Icarus could do the same. Together, they could do the same.