Icarus

A little writing exercise based off of Bastille's song, Icarus.

     Icarus shouted. That’s all he really liked to do. The rest of the room responded with a cheer, feeding off the energy of each other. People jostled to get by, crowded shoulder to shoulder. A punch bowl had collapsed off the counter, so a large section of the floor was implied to be off-limits, with nobody moving to clean it up. The host was nowhere to be found. The party had spilled out to the lawn. A couple was nearing the bad decision to get in their car and drive where the night took them. Disarray was a couple hours ago, this was mayhem.

   Icarus grabbed another drink from someone he didn’t recognize who was handing them out. He turned around, to be facing a tall, dark shadow inches away from his face. He blinked a few times.

   “Dude, are you sure?” David asked, placing his gigantic hand on Icarus’s shoulder. “You’ve had enough.”

   Icarus jolted his shoulder away, and made a pouty face. He brought the red cup to his lips, when David snatched it away. This didn’t take any necessary skill or cunning, as Icarus was moving at one-fourth speed.

   “You’ll drink yourself to death.”

   Icarus meant to say, “Shut up,” but what really came out was an incomprehensible jumble of slurred nonsense.

   David laughed. “Okay, buddy.” His hand found it’s way back to Icarus’s shoulder. He guided him through the crowd, out the front door, and gently sat him down on the porch step. The air was cold, but there was no wind, so it slowly froze Icarus’s cheeks and turned his nose a squeaky pink. David came back out, with a cup of water, and handed it to his friend. Icarus slurped like there was no bottom. He quickly reached it, however, and gave David another pouty look. David smiled. He looked out to the front yard, where the world existed on a microcosm. A girl was weeping, leaned against a pillar. A couple was making out, another one fighting. Two boys were talking to each other, not seeming to realize how loud they were being, yelling about how exciting the future is.

   “Pretty cool, huh?” David said. Icarus looked confused. “Ah,” David said, “There’s no way you’ll remember this.” He pecked Icarus’s forehead with a little kiss. Though they were the same age, David had a habit of turning everyone into a little brother, always assuming the role of caregiver, marveling at their accomplishments and helping them back up when they fell. He’d been called the “Mom Friend” on multiple occasions.

   Icarus seemed to be gaining a little bit of self-awareness. He winced, and put a finger on his temple. He looked up, and saw David’s little smirk. “Don’t say it,” he reprimanded.

    “What?”

    Icarus assumed a disciplinary character and said in an accent that, frankly, didn’t exist, “You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.” He turned back into himself, “I’m so sick of all of it.”

    David waited for more information.

    “They get mad at us for living the Teenage Rebellion, but what else are we supposed to do? One day I’m gonna get out of here, and I’m going to do everything that they told me that I never could.” He jabbed at his own chest, “My only compass.”

    “Oh wait!” David said excitedly, “I think I have Teen Movie Cliche Bingo!”

    Icarus shoved him playfully, “shut up.”

    The two boys sat in silence, looking out to the darkness, while the neon lights hit their backs.

    “You’re really leaving?” David said, after a while.

    Icarus’s hand surfed through the air. “And never looking back,” he sang.

    David smiled. No one was more certain of himself than the boy in shorts at night in the winter. An advantage and a flaw. “You know, you don’t want to burn out.”

    “Seriously?”

    “I’m just saying, go too far too fast-”

    Icarus stood up. He began to walk inside, but paused. “Would you like a drink?”

    “No thanks,” David responded. “Knock yourself out.”