For months, rivulets of tension seemed to flow between the two, tension that I had never experienced before. What appeared to be a thriving relationship suddenly turned upside down, riddled with so much turbulence; I wondered if their splitting ways wasn't a question of if but when.

At first, it seemed like typical arguments, and for others, I found myself questioning if they had been doomed to crash and burn from the start. 

That despite how picturesque their relationship had seemed, the pure tension and heated arguments ruined that image in a heartbeat. It had been a shock to realize that they were drifting apart after that many years; it had been perfectly normal and fine.

But there was no balance, especially when it came to two suns. Very few solar systems had a stable two-star system. It was a tumultuous cycle of trying to outshine the other, only wearing and tearing on the other until one or both collapsed. 

I could only selfishly hope that Icarus would come out unscathed. 

But that hope was fleeting one afternoon as I headed toward my astronomy class. To avoid the crowds of students heading home for the day, I weaved through different buildings to make it to one of my favorite classes, despite how inconvenient and boring the route was. 

But that afternoon hadn't been like the other times; in the halls that connected the two buildings I needed to pass to get to my astronomy class, the sound of Icarus' voice rang out, stilling me in my tracks. 

I stopped short at the wall perpendicular to their hallway, just out of sight of him. Elion Montague's back was turned to me, barely in view but hidden enough that Icarus could not see me in his line of sight. 

I knew it was wise to turn around and find another route, but this was the easiest, and I'd be lying if I didn't want to see why they were standing there in an empty hall with their arms across their chest. 

"Elion, I can't keep doing this. I'm not going to put my life on hold just for you." Icarus groaned. "I know how important this is to you and your future, but you must understand that I have a life too! I want to work on what I want for my future."

"And we can't have both? Do you think I don't want you to succeed and do everything you want?"

"Not like this, Eli."

"So what?" There was a cold tone I had not known possible from Elion. "Are you saying you're giving up on us? Giving up on what we have."

"I want this—you!" Icarus said sharply. "I do! But I'm not going to just throw away my chance at my future for you. I want this to work, but I can't just pack my life away and move with you."

Elion paced the room, his back still turned, thankfully. "So you are giving up on us!"

"No," Icarus cried. "I'm not saying that. I just can't leave my life, the people I care about, and my school for this. There's always another way, Eli."

"You know I hate long-distance."

"I know, but it's better for us this way. I don't want to move."

"You're ridiculous," Elion said coldly. "If you think I will continue this when we're thousands of miles away, then you're sorely mistaken."

There was a pause, and I couldn't help but wish to see Icarus' face for what? I had no clue. To confirm what I was hearing? To know if he was physically alright? 

"Then that's it?" Icarus' words were faint that I thought I had imagined them. 

"You heard me."

Though it wasn't directed at me, it felt like a hot rod, sizzling with such intensity that I could almost feel the burn make its way through my skin. It was a harsh tone, so bitter that my face scrunched into a grimace. 

The silence that followed was loud, ringing in my ears as I waited for an indication of whether I could move from my spot and make it safely out of their path. Then I heard fading footsteps and the sound of a door being pushed before closing with a clang. 

After a few tense moments of waiting, I counted down from ten to leave my spot. But I had never been that lucky, it seemed. 

Before I could take a step, Icarus had turned the corner, nearly colliding with me with the force of a bull. The textbook in my hand crashed to the floor, falling with my pride. I had been too careless and too close to this very personal conversation.

We gasped in synchronicity as we oriented ourselves. I fumbled for the fallen book, wincing at the bent corner and bookmark that fell out. I'd have to hunt for the page later, along with a shred of dignity.

"Arche," his voice was strained like it always was when he was on the verge of crying. 

I pretended not to notice, avoiding looking up at his face. "Sorry, I didn't—"

"You heard, didn't you?" His voice cracked at the end. 

"I didn't mean to," I told him finally. "It wasn't my business. I'll—I should go."

Turning away from his had been the hardest thing to do then, but I couldn't walk past him and see Elion, even if my class was in that direction. I'd rather circle the entire campus than see Elion again. But Icarus had gripped my wrist, turning me till I was barely a textbook apart from his chest. Instinctively, I took a step away, keeping my eyes down. "Wait. Please, Arche."

His tone was impossible to determine. "I've got class. I really didn't mean to overhear any of it. I'll just—"

My train of thought escaped me as he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into his chest. As I stiffened in his arms, he muttered, "I'm sorry. I just—I could really use a hug."

My mind raced, but my heart raced faster. I had forgotten how comforting Icarus' hugs were, far warmer than my oversized duvet. Despite how much I had tried to set my feelings for him aside, insisting that Icarus was no longer an option now that he was with Elion, I found myself leaning my head against his chest, bathing in the familiar scent and comfort of my childhood friend. 

We had grown too far apart, but in a way, we still found ourselves drifting back to the same place, anchoring ourselves to each other in a turbulent storm—like two drifting pieces of wood brought together by the gentle ebb of waves. 

Once I relaxed, his arms wrapped his other arm around me, leaning his head against mine, and I could feel the tension and heartache fall off his shoulders as if he was Atlas with the weight of the sky. 

And though I wanted to feel angry, to be upset with the years of distance between us, I fell into the steady thrum of our heartbeats, beating against each other like two specks in the turbulent sea we had found each other in.