Icarus's Maelstrom Flight
Memory 15
If Wanda were a more self-critical person, she might call herself greedy. Maybe even petty or manipulative. But she liked to imagine herself as walking that thin tightrope between black and white morality, enjoying the lax nature of the gray space of neutrality. Unable to be pinpointed in the hazy fog by self doubt or justice, blissfully ignorant of either side.
So she didn’t question her own sense of ethics when she found herself unabashedly teasing Vision again, just as they had used to. The high of having a purpose to speak and joke aloud, to exist in the presence of friends and revel in their company, left her delirious with joy. Not only did she have Vision back, but Darcy and Monica welcomed her return as well, along with the addition of Bruce, who rounded out their dynamic nicely. For the first time in however long, she felt happy. And God be damned if she wasn’t going to keep chasing that high.
Her euphoric flights of fancy tempted her closer to the warm, validating rays of the sun. Of Vision’s increasing discomfort from her needling. She might feel guilty, if she hadn’t noticed the way he egged her on, instigating their fluid, practiced banter followed by breaks in character and uproarious laughter that nearly got them exiled from the library numerous times. Settling back into their routine felt so natural, so right, like collapsing onto your favorite spot on the couch after a long day at work.
So she dared to fly even closer to the sun, unperturbed by the slight drip of wax down her spine.
Wanda upped the ante one fateful evening in the study room a few minutes before she had to leave for practice by flaunting her sports attire, endeavoring to capture his wandering eyes by resting her heels on the table, utilizing her bare legs as the bait.
She hadn’t checked the clock, so she couldn’t confirm how much time had passed in this interaction. Wanda had never seen him so silent before.
His body spoke volumes for him.
Vision’s lips were tightly pursed together, his jawline jutting from the tension of his clenched teeth. His usually pale skin bloomed like a crimson rose, the rush of adrenaline and embarrassment saturating his veins with heated blood. She swore that his pupils dilated the slightest bit, darkening his eyes from an electric to royal blue, though Wanda couldn’t be sure from her position across the table.
What Wanda was sure of was that she’d captured his attention. As much as his jumpy gaze tried to allude to the opposite, all of the signs were blatantly obvious before her. And she relished in it, exhilarated by the newfound power she held over him. She sadistically savored his torture, ethically safe in the knowledge that some part of Vision enjoyed it as well, enjoyed being her pawn in this coquettish game.
But it still wasn’t enough. Wanda wanted more. Months deprived of any connection to reality, of any semblance of joy, left her starved for human validation.
Higher and closer to the sun she soared.
One December evening, days into the sobering solitude of winter break, she began to feel the effects of withdrawal. Her drunken euphoria gave way to a post-socialization drop, an isolation hangover of sorts. Without her friends’ chatter, the only sound in her ears was the low drone of her ceiling fan, barely masking the minor tinnitus heckling her sanity.
Music cranked to an obscene volume level proved unhelpful. Ninety percent of her songs had lyrics either about friendship or love. With a groan of frustration, Wanda rolled onto her stomach and stuffed her face into her pillow, muffling her whines as she flailed her legs petulantly against her comforter.
If only Vision was here to listen to her complain. He’d smile at her sympathetically the way a parent coos a tantruming child over something inconsequential. Wanda wanted to be coddled by him, even when she knew she was upset about silly things, simply because she enjoyed the feeling. She relished how she could get him to display emotions for her that he didn’t show to anyone else.
These thoughts are what spurred her plan. While the mutual pining and teasing had been fun, her heart ravenously demanded more. More of his feelings for her. She wanted to push him, see how long he would hold out until he buckled under the weight of his own desire for her.
9:54 pm
I think I have a crush on someone
Really?
Who?
Aw cmon, it’s no fun if I just tell you
I’ll let you guess once a day until New Year’s. Then I’ll spill the beans lol
With the devious gears of Wanda’s machinations whirring in the background, winter break trudged along. Every day, she asked Vision if he had a guess. And every day, he refused to submit an answer. Little did he know that noncompliance was in itself an answer. He would dance around the topic as best he could, presumably loathe to contemplate the idea of her liking someone else. Wanda had hoped it would spark a jealousy in him, but that may require a bit more patience.
She would just have to bide her time.
—
11:52 pm
Group Chat
Wanda:
I want pet pics and I want them now!!!
Monica:
Listen. I’m not gonna die for the pics. Sorry
I love you. But I wanna live. Oliver doesn’t like being woken up late at night
Wanda:
Alright, I’m just JOSHING ya (insert until dawn ref here)
Darcy:
;-;
Vision:
…
Wanda:
No? No one liked the pun and reference combo?
Darcy:
Too soon
Toooooooooooooo sooooooooooooonnnnnn
Vision:
You know how I feel ‘bout puns…
Bruce:
Listen, broski, how long has it been now since you originally cried over your bf rami malek?
Wanda:
Vision, you just can’t appreciate them!
Darcy:
Seconds
Bruce:
ORIGINALLY
The primordial sob
Darcy:
A couple months…..
Wanda:
6 months isn’t too soon!
Darcy:
No, I’m still mourning
Wanda:
Vision, cmon, help us out. How long do you usually need to recover from your fictional crushes being crushed?
Darcy:
Our love was real!!!!
Monica:
You all need jesus
Darcy:
Yes ma’am
Vision:
Maybe a few weeks?
Months…
Years…
*cough* Decades…
Wanda:
Vision, the secret fanboy. 10/10 approve
Vision:
;)
Wanda grinned giddily down at her phone, her lively conversation with her friends giving her a rush of endorphins. Normally, Vision and Monica would be asleep by this hour, but since it was New Year’s eve, they were all awake. They texted and joked with each other while they anticipated the annual ball drop on TV.
While Wanda wasn’t particularly impressed by the event anymore, she would take any excuse to talk with her friends again, so she readily savored the opportunity.
Vision seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Apparently, he’d chugged a few sodas on a dare from his older brother who was home from college for the holiday, and he was acting particularly excitable in conversation, responding at a higher velocity than usual, which amused Wanda to no end.
11:58pm
Now you’ve got me curious. What fictional crushes have you had?
To be honest… I haven’t really had any.
Whaaaaat? Cmon, that cant be true!!
It’s true, I swear
You can tell me! I won’t tell Darcy or Monica, I promise
12:00am
Actually, I think I ought to be asking you that.
It’s now officially New Year’s, remember?
Wanda’s thumbs halted above her phone’s touchscreen, her brain temporarily frazzled by his sudden demand. She’d nearly forgotten the plan she’d set in motion a couple weeks ago. She’d given up asking Vision to guess, as he seemed adamant to not play her game. Vision, apparently, had remembered. And he seemed dead set on receiving an answer, his blunt confrontation somewhat unlike him.
She was too close to the sun now. The scorching rays of Vision’s inquisitive counter-offensive melted the last of her wax wings, sending Wanda plummeting to the ground below. Her stomach dropped as she fell, faster and faster, her heart racing at the anticipated impact with the earth, of possible rejection.
What if he actually didn’t like her back? While it seemed improbable, it wasn’t impossible, and it would crush her if that was the case. Would their friendship be repairable from such an awkward blow? It had already taken a lot of damage, so maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
But it was too late to turn back now. Wanda had already promised him an answer. And lying would only make the situation worse. There was no choice. It was now or never.
12:01pm
Right. I promised, didn’t I?
Well…
It’s you, Vizh. You’re the one I like.
Memory 16
Vision was a fool. A hapless, bumbling idiot.
The ins and outs of social interactions continued to mystify him. Some aspects, he easily grasped. The rules surrounding cordial conversations with teachers were fairly straightforward. Interactions with peers in clubs and social settings proved navigable as well, as long as he stuck to the topics at hand. He knew how to stick to the facts, how to generate a bit of laughter here and there.
But how to behave in a relationship? Vision had no clue.
He frequently reminisced on the night Wanda confessed her crush for him. The elation that diffused into every cell in his body, the widest grin he’d ever grinned stretching his cheeks so much that it hurt. Fuzzy elation circulated in his veins, fueled by his palpitating heart, senses already overloaded by way too many cans of soda. The combination of Wanda’s revelation and the sugar rush left him light headed, his high so intense, he wondered if this was what “speed-balling” felt like.
His drunken stupor was short lived as anxiety sobered him up. While Vision definitely wanted to date her, Ultron still had no idea they were even friends again. Even though it had been nearly a year since the incident, it didn’t seem likely he’d approve of their relationship.
They decided to date in secret.
While it was far from ideal, they agreed it was better than nothing.
So when school resumed, not much changed between them. When people were around, which unfortunately was most of the time, Wanda and Vision behaved as they normally would, maintaining appearances to the world. They had deliberated telling the others, but had decided against it for the time being.
Even when it was just the two of them, not much was different. Except a few minute changes.
Instead of sitting across from him, Wanda now sat beside him in the study room. A small move in the grand scheme of things, yet it felt like bridging a gap between them, crossing an unspoken barrier. Now, they were closer than ever before. If he were a braver man, Vision could reach over and touch her. Brush her arm with his fingertips, lace their fingers together, maybe even hold her face in his palm, feel her smile expand under his touch. But fear of both discovery and his own incompetency prevented him from acting on his daydream.
The atmosphere in the moments they shared was charged, like a looming thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. The dry January air between them felt static; it only took one touch to shock him. When their banter grew particularly lively, Wanda would occasionally slap his arm or shoulder in protest at his jests, and the contact jolted him out of the academic haze of constant responsibilities for just a few seconds, as if she was his earthing system, discharging the excess voltage from his worries.
Then the thunderstorm arrived, and the rain downpoured.
Vision entered the study room one evening after school, a time when most students and staff had gone home, to find Wanda already there. Though even before he opened the door, he knew something was wrong.
She was hunched over the table, palm smushed into her right eye. Head hung low, her veil of curly hair obscuring her face, draped protectively over her features, shielding her from onlookers. Her other hand was pressed into the table, fingertips white from digging into the surface, as if trying to anchor her in the storm.
Vision silently took the seat beside her, the only sound the occasional sniffle that twisted the knife lodged in his chest. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but they hadn’t discussed boundaries yet. He had no idea what she was okay with, what she wanted, and he didn’t want to make it worse, or unknowingly betray her trust.
He had consoled Wanda many times over text, but in person was an entirely different beast. Before, Vision had the time and space to gather up his thoughts, articulate himself properly and carefully. He could distance himself a bit from the image of how she might look when she cried.
But now he knew. Knew how wilted and defeated she looked. How her sniffles cut through the stagnant air, violently carving itself into his memory. How her arms wrapped around herself so tightly, as if trying to strangle the sadness inside. How small she looked, folded in half under the weight of her despair.
Wanda was before him, in tears, and he was paralyzed.
The downpour of emotions emanating from her stunned him, overwhelmed by his proximity to the raging storm. The reverberating thunder of her trembling exhale felt powerful enough to crack his chest open.
While Vision had been sad before, he had never felt anything close to this.
A part of him couldn’t help but be in awe of the raw force of her sorrow that engulfed the whole study room, barely restrained by its glass walls. With barely a sound, her tumultuous energy consumed the room, nearly drowning him in the onslaught. While it pained him to watch her suffer, there was a morbid beauty to the chaos, the destructive lash of the gales stripping her down to her most vulnerable.
Despite the waves of negativity rolling off of her in swelling tides, he also felt a magnetic pull to her. Empowered by her voiceless wails of agony, his opposite charge craved to gravitate closer, to cling to the source of her pain and help her bear it.
But self doubt and hesitancy rooted him firmly in place.
Minutes passed in complete quiet, silent emotional gusts from her inner maelstrom swirling in the atmosphere. The air crackled with the electricity of her strife, of the unresolved tension pushing and pulling them apart. Vision fiddled with his hands on the table, anxiously mulling over ideas. How could he ever hope to quell her force of nature? Any aid he could hope to contribute would just be another drop in the downpour of her misery.
Then finally, lightning struck.
Wanda unlatched one of her hands from herself and grabbed his still fiddling errantly on the table. She smacked her hand on top of his, her movements jerky from her waning self control, and she threaded their fingers together, intertwining them. He could feel her squeezing him, struggling to keep herself from gripping too tightly. Vision knew she could crush his bones.
He would gladly let her if it was what she wanted. If it would make her feel better.
Breath hitched in his throat, he admired how they fit together. Her hand was so small, yet it held so much force. Calluses and scars coated her knuckles, almost glowing a scarlet color from the strain of her grip. Smooth rings glittered in the room’s artificial lights, the silver reflection of his flustered face staring back at him. The cool metal contrasted the warmth of her touch, heightening his receptors to the feeling.
Emboldened by the slight tremble of her frame, Vision gently moved his hand beneath hers. Turning it over, he offered it back to her, palm up, quieting the nervous shake snaking up his arm by resting it against the table.
Face still obscured behind her frizzy curls, Wanda snatched up his offer, letting out a small sigh of relief at the renewed contact. Even though her hand dwarfed his, just like the books and movies say, their hands truly melded together perfectly. As if they completed each other.
Gnawing on his lower lip, Vision kept his gaze on their joined hands, still not fully believing this moment was real. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, rubbing soothing patterns into her knuckles, stroking and twisting her rings. He mapped her skin with the tips of his fingers, wanting to familiarize himself with how every inch of her felt. He didn’t mind starting slow, only chartering the grooves between her knuckles; it was already more than enough, more than he’d ever dreamed of.
Vision then understood the nature of fleeting beauty. While he would’ve gladly held her hand forever, would’ve gladly perished until dust in her palms, the discrete essence of time limited them to mere seconds and minutes together. His mind grappled with its passage, hastily preserving every neuron of this feeling. The slight slick of precipitation from the combined heat of their union, gluing skin to skin. Their threaded clasp, weaving them tighter together, bearing each other’s burdens. Idle fingers consoling each other, exploring, promising of a further adventure on a day with fairer weather.
In the wake of her lightning strike, the echo of its thunder finally caught up to his ears.
“Thanks.”
Vision placed his other hand over theirs, attempting to squash her pain in between his palms, subdue the vitriolic despair wracking her body, if only a little.
“Of course, Wanda.”