Chapter Text
He doesn’t remember when she first started to fade. Maybe it was around the start of 6th grade, maybe sooner.
All Icarus knows is that he only began to acknowledge it around the end of 7th grade.
He finally killed her during his first year of highschool. He rapped his hands around her throat and slowly, day by day, she died.
And when she finally dropped to the floor,
there Icarus stood in her place, ready to live for the first time.
…
It was horrible.
Better, but horrible.
Things finally felt right, but he still wanted to disappear.
He began to think that maybe, just maybe, if they had both died then things would finally be perfect.
But death wasn’t an option.
Disappearing wasn't an option.
Because Icarus had people and he wasn’t about to leave them behind.
He couldn’t do that to them.
If he left then who would take care of Bone, who would reassure Travis, who would mess around with Scarlet, who would brainstorm with Queeny, who would just be there for Bee.
Nobody. There would be Nobody there.
So Icarus stayed.
And he struggled.