I spent the week clutching the feather as usual, but it was more from anticipation than desperation. It seemed as though the days couldn't pass any slower. Iggy was surprised by my sudden change of attitude, "It's because of him, isn't it? Fang?"
He chuckled, like he could sense my surprise, "You seemed different after you came back inside that night," he said as an explanation. "Is he your boyfriend?"
I frown at him in silence for a few moments. Fang? My boyfriend? I had never thought of him that way before. He had always been my solace, the only thing tethering me to the earth. Besides, a relationship requires consent from both partners. I don't think he would've of even thought of the possibility of a relationship between us.
I soon realized that Iggy was still waiting for an answer. "Uh, no, he isn't," I say hesitantly. Iggy's lips quirk in a grin, and he shrugs, "Alright, whatever you say." I roll my eyes at his shit-eating grin, but almost immediately go back to running the pad of my thumb over the feather sitting in my pocket. My mind unconsciously drifts off again.
A week passes by unbearably slowly, and for once, I eat more than three spoonfuls of my dinner. In fact, I polish off almost half the plate. Iggy stops eating entirely, blank eyes turned in my direction as he hears my knife scrape against the plate. He says nothing, as though him speaking will break the spell and cause me to stop eating. I don't mind, happily scooping food into my mouth with my right hand holding the fork while my left holds onto the Fang's feather.
Iggy stays behind this time, and I find my own way to the attic, hands shaking in the anticipation of seeing him again. There was also a nervousness, after Iggy's comment. It meant nothing. He was just asking. But there's nothing between us like that, right? I did say that I missed him, but he didn't take it that way, did he? Or maybe I do want him to think of it that way.
I was starting to get confused, so I stop thinking about it and sit in front of the glass door. I take out the feather, and smooth it out, admiring it in the darkness. The moon isn't out tonight. I'm not sure how long I sit there, facing the darkness of the night. It may have been hours, but it seemed like days had passed. It starts to get cold in the room and I shiver. I wonder if he forgot, or if he simply had other things to do.
I would never know, after all, he didn't leave me any means of contacting him. I almost chuckle at the thought of Fang with a cellphone. The chuckle dies in my throat before it even reaches my mouth. I bit my lip hard, and the trembling in my hand gets more violent. The feather shakes, and I clench my teeth, trying to control the shaking. It only gets worse. I'm not sure whether it's out of anxiety, or out of the cold, but I can't seem to stop. My body feels numb, and the feather drifts from between my fingers onto the ground.
A strangled sound leaves my throat and I scramble for it, skinning the heels of my palms on the floor. It doesn't matter. The feather is safely tucked back in my pocket, and I stuff my left hand inside as well, determined not to lose it again like that.
Too tired to do anything else, I lie down on the cold wooden floor and curl up on my side, still facing the balcony. The room gets darker, and II wonder if Fang ever had any intention of coming tonight. He must've. If he didn't, he wouldn't have said so. I frown, and pull my knees closer to my chest. It's getting really cold. I feel shivers racking my body, but I can't find it in myself to get up and leave. One more minute… He'll be here. He'll be here.
I lose track of how many times one minute has passed. All of a sudden, I'm tired, exhausted even. My eyes start to droop close and I almost give in to a blissful sleep when I feel someone shaking me. Fang. I shoot up, and my head collides with something hard. We both cry out in pain, and I open my eyes to see that it's Iggy. My hopes plummet and I mumble an apology to him. He shrugs it off when he hears the mood in my voice.
Iggy doesn't say anything about it though. "Max, it's 3 in the morning. All the nuns are downstairs; they're worried about you." I blink in confusion. They're worried about me? Why?
"They think you've run away. I didn't think you were up here the whole time." A hint of anger leaks through in his voice, "You waited here for him this whole time? Max, it's been seven hours. You're ice cold."
I look out at the empty balcony and my heart sinks lower. "Let's go," I barely whisper. He hears it, and I let him take my limp hand to gently lead me out of the attic. I'm too preoccupied with my thoughts to even mind the contact. Iggy's hand feels warm, and I find myself holding onto it for the warmth it provides me.
It's only when we're back downstairs that I notice how cold I am. The nuns are there, panic clear in their eyes. It's even more confusing to see them panic over me. I don't understand their concerns. I'm just a child in their care. Why would they care that I'm gone? It just frees up another space for someone else to sleep.
Their faces fill with a mixture of relief and anger as they spy Iggy leading me back. I find this amusing. The blind boy is guiding someone who isn't blind.
"Maximum! Do you know how worried we were? We've been looking for you for hours!" One nun looks as though she's about to hug me, but I take a small step back, and she looks as though she's been slapped. She forces it away quickly though, and just breathes another sigh of relief.
"Thank heavens you're alright. Off to bed now, and I don't want to catch you wandering off anymore after hours, do I make myself clear?" Her tone is gentle, but there's a firmness behind it that makes me nod without even thinking about it.
The nuns let Iggy stay with me for a little while. He hands me a fluffy white towel and sits next to me with the excuse that he wants to make sure I'm okay. My stiff fingers are clenched so hard around the black feather in my pocket that I'm surprised they haven't started cramping yet.
Iggy reads into the tension in my body and touches my forearm lightly. I don't shy away from him, and instead look up to see that his eyes are filled with concern. Concern for me. I find that notion odd, the fact that someone is concerned about my well-being. Iggy's eyes are directed straight into my own. He may be blind, yet he sees so much more than others.
Iggy can't see my small smile, so I just say, "Thank you." The concern in his eyes lessen a bit, and he smiles back, fingers leaving my forearm to rest in his lap.
The nuns shoo him away, and I crawl into bed. I am warm by now, thanks to the towel that Iggy gave me, but I still tremble uncontrollably under the covers.
He didn't appear the next week, nor the week after. I had reverted to the way I had been before I saw Fang here, only now my trembling had gotten more severe. Iggy seems to be increasingly mad at Fang as the days drag by. He can't stop me from going up to the attic every night, and I make sure I'm not caught there after hours again. He sits with me though, most of the time making sure I don't freeze again.
I spend most of my time in the attic staring out at the sky, hoping to see his outline sitting on the balcony, or even in the distance. He isn't there. Iggy sits at the ground, drawing into the ground with his finger, and occasionally muttering under his breath.
Once, I hear part of what he says, and it included a few choice words directed at Fang. I stay silent and keep my eyes focused on the horizon until it's time to go.
It's not until the fourth week that he appears. At first, I don't notice. It's not until the glass door opens that my head swivels around so hard I almost give myself whiplash. There he stands. Iggy notices the door creaking open, and that I haven't moved from his side, so he glares up in the direction of Fang. I didn't tell him about Fang's wings, but he figures that nobody comes up here but us.
"Took him long enough. We've been here for 2 hours now. He could've come out sooner." Iggy gets up and heads towards the door to the attic, "I'll leave you two to talk, I guess." He leaves, but not before shooting a dirty look in Fang's direction.
Fang glances at him briefly before his eyes return to me. I don't meet his gaze, and instead just watch my fingers draw idly on the ground. The door to the attic closes behind Iggy, and he shifts weight between his feet. It's almost as though he's nervous. I almost laugh at the thought. Why on earth would he be nervous? If anything, I'm the one who's had false hopes.
"Hey," he says quietly after a few minutes of silence. My fingers stops on the ground, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Once. Twice. Three times. The pain tells me that this is real. I haven't dreamt him here.
Looking up, I see that there are small red marks around his neck, just above the collar of his sweater. I frown at him a little but return the greeting all the same, "Hey."
When I don't say anything more, Fang regards me warily. I wonder what he's thinking. After a few moments of just silence, he speaks again, "How have you been?" His tone is careful; it sounds like a peace offering.
I stare at him and shrug. There's no way I'm about to tell him that I've been having panic attacks every so often, clutching his feather like it's the only thing rooting me to the ground. "Where were you?" I say quietly instead.
He grimaces and it looks for a moment, that my words have caused him immense pain. Then his face is clean as a slate; I can't read any emotions from it. "I was… caught up in a situation," he manages to say. There's a bitterness in his tone.
"What situation?" It dawns on me now, that I know nothing about him, yet he knows almost everything about me. I've been telling him everything about myself since I was 8 years old, since the second time he's ever met me. But he's told me nothing about himself in return. Apart from his name, I realize with a jolt that I am completely oblivious to everything about him.
He stares into the ground as though he's trying to burn a hole through it and doesn't answer. I press harder, "What situation?" Fang lifts his head and looks hard at me. He opens his mouth, and just when I think he's going to let me in just as much as I have, he shakes his head, "Don't worry about it. It's nothing."
For the first time since I've met him, I glare at Fang. If it was nothing, then he should've been here a month ago. I don't voice this thought though. "What situation?" I ask again, relentless.
Fang gives me a long hard look. I mirror his gaze, and he frowns. "Why do you want to know so badly?" he mutters. Suddenly, he seems disgusted. Is he disgusted at my curiosity? I feel slightly offended.
"I want to know, because you know practically everything about me, yet I know absolutely nothing about you, other than your name, and you've only recently given me that," my voice is steel, and I almost stutter in surprise. I didn't intend for it to come out sounding this way.
"I just want to know more about the person who's been my only friend for ten years," I force my voice to soften.
Fang's expression is one between confusion and pity. Pity? Is that pity for me or for himself? I can't tell. He closes his eyes and releases an inaudible breath that seems to have been pent up for a long time.
He stays like that for the longest time, and I sit on the floor, watching his chest move up and down as he breathes slowly. It's the only indication that he's alive. His image starts to fade around the edges, and before I can tell him, he opens his eyes, his figure snapping back to life.
Fang fixes me in another stare, like he expects me to look away. I don't. Eventually, he heaves a sigh and sits down in front of me.
"How much do you know about the government?" he finally asks.