I was the moon, with the same orbital loyalty to Icarus as the moon had to the Earth. The power of his gravity would always be far greater than the pull I had on him, which should have been obvious. And yet, I imagined that I had some significance, like the rise and fall of tides—surely, that must have been true with Icarus. 

But lost in the allusion, Icarus was no Earth. Icarus was the sun, and the moon had very little power over the sun.

The sun was a constant, rising and falling upon the Earth—while the moon often went dark against the Earth, shrinking in size amongst the dark backdrop. 

It wasn't until high school that I realized that being Icarus' shadow could have been a bad thing. I favored the shadows, the outskirts of school halls, that it never felt isolating or incriminating before. Because at the end of the day, when midnight rolled around, I'd get to spend the night babbling away at all the nerdy details of the books I read to him. 

A few months into our high school career, it was clear that reading and doing extra research was deemed "a waste of time," according to our peers. It was when the youth's interest in education turned into an interest in social relationships. Either I had a flaw in their eyes, or I was "uncool" for not wanting to pursue relationships with anyone. 

The only exception had been my outstanding friendship with Icarus Melgren. In their eyes, they saw me as an awful pest that had latched onto him, draining and preventing him from other relationships at school. 

"Don't listen to them," Icarus would say after some brute sports player had bumped into my shoulder—suspiciously too convenient and rough to be considered an accident. "They're all just brainless idiots."

"You don't always have to stick up for me," I reminded him. 

He guided me to the edge of the halls, away from the rest of the bypassing students during passing. "Yeah, but I hate how they walk all over you. I think you're plenty cool."

"Thanks." I adjusted the books in my hand. "Even though I go on tangents about some nerdy textbooks on space?"

He smiled. "Of course. I love listening to it. Have I ever looked uninterested in one of your stories?"

"No," I said softly. "I don't think so unless you're that good at faking it."

"I could listen to you rant about anything, Arche. Trust me; you're probably one of the coolest people I've met."

Despite how often Icarus told me that, I still found it hard to believe. He had other friends and peers who were just as outgoing and extroverted as he was; what made me so unique in his eyes that he'd put up with those silly rants? Was it truly the years of growing up together as children?

It was as if I was drifting out of the orbital path, further and further away from him, and the thought of slipping away from him completely sent a fearful chill down my spine. 

☀☾

It wasn't always easy being Icarus' moon, but some days being a moon was far better than being a sun. 

While being popular and friends with many of our classmates, Icarus always said that appealing to everyone was exhausting. I didn't blame him. Although I had been involved in a few clubs throughout high school, Icarus had his hands full, juggling his soccer practices and academic studies like a novice circus performer. Some days he'd admit his failed quizzes and tests during lunch or blame himself for not making a penalty goal when the team needed it. 

Other days, just existing and talking to classmates was exhausting. 

On days like that, I told him he didn't have to listen to my boring stories on the roof if he needed more sleep or study time. 

But in Icarus fashion, he declined, insisting that our nights on the roofs were simply a priority he'd never give up. 

"I'd rather fail history than not hear about the neighboring solar systems," he'd say. "What's a few fewer hours of sleep anyway?"

"You'll need that class credit to graduate. Not to mention you need to watch your grades for sports and scholarships."

He shrugged. "I don't think they'd want me if I can't make a simple goal."

"You've made plenty of goals before, though."

"Maybe," he grumbled. "I'm not sure if I really want to do college soccer anymore."

It had been his childhood dream to play professionally, but like many gifted kids, Icarus wasn't immune to burnout. 

"What would you do if you didn't play?"

He took a long moment to think about it, pondering the soccer-less future he had never dreamt of pursuing. With the pressure of family, his team, and coaches, Icarus had likely never allowed himself the privilege to even think of anything other than sports. 

I'd never forget the moment Icarus Melgren pointed to the sky, his eyes staring up at the stars like they always did, in wonder. "While I wouldn't be the first to get there, I bet the view from the moon would be amazing. Though I'd probably have to be as smart as you to work for NASA, even one night up in space would probably be the best night of my life. Well—it would be different since time is weird there, but you get what I mean. Shoot for the stars and all that."

I nodded, entranced by how he twirled his finger in the air, drawing something I couldn't decipher.