Rain pours in sheets from the sky. It soaks my coat and turns all the snow piled on the sides of the street to slush. The rain is oddly out of season, which is why I left home for school without an umbrella and am now thoroughly soaked to the bone and frozen. I can’t wait for spring.

With the passing of days, I do my best to block out what I heard in the hospital. Of how there are more people out there like me, suffering from the same curse, no closer to being cured. My own curse has grown, inching across my skin to reach halfway up my forearm. Thankfully it hasn’t gone down past my wrist. Yet. If it does, and Mom finds out…I don’t want to think of what will happen then.

I shake the thoughts away. There I go again. I try to turn my mind to more pleasant thoughts. Like how I have now rewritten my entire story and then some. I’m reaching the end, which is a big relief, especially when I’ve only got four months left to get it perfect.

I reach the end of the street and pause, waiting for the light to change. Only a handful of pedestrians are out, the woman beside me holding an umbrella. I feel irritated at that. Why did everyone else know of the rain and I didn’t?

The light changes, and I run across the crosswalk for the opposite street. Someone is coming toward me from the opposite side. I move over, but just as they near me, my shoe slips through a slick puddle.

My shoulder slams into theirs. I feel myself pitching forward. Strong fingers grip my elbow and arrest my movement, allowing me to catch my balance.

“Are you alright?” they ask.

“Sorry!” I shout over the rain. When I look up, the first thing I notice is messy, black and white hair.

Ryuji.

He stares at me with red-rimmed eyes, dressed in what has to be the same hoodie and jeans he’d worn at the hospital, soaked through. His appearance is so drastically different from his usual, cheerful smile, that for a minute, I’m speechless.

What’s happened? Is it his dad? Did someone die? Did he break up with his girlfriend? Did his best friend get in an accident? The questions collide through my mind.

“You’re a mess.” The words slip out before I can think of something nicer to say.

Ryu drops his gaze to the ground and tries to walk around me. I step into his path. Gently, I take him by the hand and lead him off the crosswalk onto the sidewalk. We stand beneath the eaves of a bakery, out of the rain.

I’m about to drop his hand, but he seems reluctant to let go. His hand trembles within my own. Something has shaken him, bad enough for him to stay away.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Ryuji pulls his hand from mine. He stands there, tapping his heel on the ground, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, eyes focused on the buildings behind me. Quickly, he sniffs and wipes at his nose with his hand. The water dripping from my hair soaks my eyelashes as I wait for an answer.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask in a quiet voice. “Ryuji. I can tell you’re hurting. Are you okay?”

For a moment, it looks like he might say something. Instead, he takes a step back, clearing my path, head down, jaw clenched. He clears his throat, then wipes a hand down his face, as if to wipe away all the emotion there.

“How you been?” He finally looks at me, eyes earnest. As if he truly cares about my physical health. “The curse, is it any better? Any worse?”

“It…It’s gotten a little worse,” I admit. “But it’s no big deal. It’s still contained to my arm. I’m not going anywhere yet.” What I don’t say is it’s taken over half my forearm. I can’t tell him. Not now. Not ever.

He nods, back hunched. Clears his throat again. I can see it. He’s definitely lost someone. Why else would he ask about me? That boy at the hospital…it wasn’t him, was it?

“Hey, if you ever need to talk…you know.” I hold out my hands in an inviting gesture. “My sister tells me I’m a good listener.”

Ryuji smiles at that. “I’ll keep that in mind. Where you going?”

“Home. Though the rain’s been a nuisance.”

“Same. Want me to walk you to the station?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Ryuji’s face is serious. Almost desperate. He steps closer until until we’re only a foot apart. “I’m going in the same direction anyway.”

“Okay.”

We start walking, Ryuji placing himself on my right, next to the road. As if he’s trying to protect me from the oncoming cars. My heart aches. What happened to him? Who hurt you? What if he lost his dad in a car accident or something? He told me when I went to his house that it was just him and his dad. I try to imagine losing my own father, but I can’t really summon any kind of emotion. I’m sure I’d be sad. But all my emotions surrounding him are so tangled I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore.

“How’s your dad?” I ask, hoping to get some kind of answer. It’s not the boy. It’s not the boy.

“Oh, he’s great. Yeah. Right now, he should be coming home from work. He’s an assistant principal at an elementary school.”

“That’s pretty neat. How long’s he been teaching there?” I’m relieved to know his dad is alright. So that means…someone else. Or something else?

“About ten years now. He seems to enjoy it, though I think he misses his job at the bookshop.”

I ask him a few more questions, trying to keep up a steady conversation, but he seems less and less willing to answer. We fall into a heavy silence that follows us all the way to the train station. While on the train, he sits sideways with his wings draped over the side and trailing on the floor, one foot propped on the seat, eyes closed. I pull out my phone and scroll through the latest news on curse cases. His worry has me paranoid now.

At the first article, I freeze. It’s everywhere, this horrible news. A sixteen-year-old boy from the Eyries died three days ago. The guy struggled with the curse for a little over a year before finally giving in. It had manifested in his back. After three months, it had taken over his wings, and they had to be amputated. After being put in a medical-induced coma to stop the spread, he died just four days later.

My fingers slowly go numb as I clutch my phone. A year. That was all the time he had left in the world. And now he’s gone, his family brokenhearted. Just sixteen. Same age as me. Same as Ryuji.

The included photo confirms my worst fears. I was right. It was the boy I saw Ryuji talking with in the hospital. In the photo of him with his family, I can see the curse mark made it all the way down his arm, tendrils of black winding their way up and around his neck. In the photo, he smiles with both thumbs up as his mom and two sisters stand next to his hospital bed, all wearing tired, strained smiles. Their eyes are dead. As if the whole family, not just the boy, were dying of the curse. His name is listed below: Marcus Finch.

I imagine Elsha in their place. How devastated she’ll be. Both of her siblings are dying and there's nothing she can do about it. Tears sting my eyes and I take in several shaky breaths to keep them at bay. I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t want her to hurt. I can’t stand the thought.

I take a peek at Ryuji. His brows are knitted, and I can see the cords of his neck standing out, as if he’s in pain. A tear slips down his cheek. Just how close were he and the boy? They looked like they were close friends. Once again I’m reminded of how little I really know about the icarus boy beside me.

A part of me wants to give him a hug, but I don’t know him well enough for that. And I don’t know if he’s the kind of person who hates hugs. Instead, I remain quiet, closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep, allowing him this moment of vulnerability.

When the train stops, I’m half-asleep, and Ryuji nudges my shoulder to wake me. We step off at the station, climb onto another train, this one taking us back to my hometown area. Ryuji seems a little brighter now, giving me half-smiles every time he catches me looking. Then he asks if I’ve seen the latest episode of Warrior Trials and we lose ourselves in debating over whether or not the character Fuji is going to survive. Somehow, our conversation turns to books, and I’m surprised to discover that we’ve read a lot of the same things. Though, he seems to read more science fiction than me, a genre I can’t seem to get into.

“Have you read Summer of Tomorrow by Suzume?” he asks.

Was that the author’s name? “Yeah, I have. Though I’m not entirely sure if I get it.”

“The daughter, Fiona. When she entreats the spirits to bring her mother back to life, she said something that’s stuck with me.”

I tilt my head to look him in the eye as he stares at the floor of the train, his arms resting on his knees, hands loosely folded. There’s something like nostalgia in his eyes, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “She says, ‘I’d be willing to sacrifice the rest of my days to spend one more hour with my mother. Then, we could step into the afterlife together, hand-in-hand, unafraid.”

Fear cinches my chest. There’s a look in his eyes that I don’t like. One that I remember seeing in my mother’s eyes whenever she stared at pictures of Anwell on the wall before Dad took them down. There was a time, when I was young, and before I knew that she hated me, when I was terrified that one day I’d wake up and she wouldn’t be there. That look. It would plague my nightmares.

Reaching out, I grip his hand in mine and lean close so that he has no choice but to look at me.

“I’m here. I’m right here, Ryuji. And I’m planning on staying here for as long as you need me. I’ll fight this curse as long as it takes. I plan on living for another year, ten years even. I haven’t given up the fight. And I don’t intend to. So as long as I am here and breathing and moving, and, and existing, I’ll stay right here by your side until you don’t need me anymore.”

I squeeze his hand tight, so that he can feel the warmth of me. “Got it? So promise me something.”

He looks at me as if I’m his lifeline in the midst of a raging storm.

“Promise me you won’t go anywhere either. Please. Promise me.” I promised the same thing to Anwell’s sleeping form back when I discovered my curse, and skies above, I plan to keep it. I won’t let this curse beat me. And whatever demons haunt Ryuji, sure as the stars shine, I won’t let them beat him either.

Ryuji swallows and leans forward so that his forehead touches mine. His hair brushes my skin. It’s baby-soft, like the feathers of a chick, or the fur of a kitten. Lacing his fingers with mine, he grips my hand with surprising strength.

“I promise.”

Smiling, I blink back the tears that threaten to return. “I’ll hold you to that.”