Work Text:
《▪︎▪︎》
Their knees against their chest almost feels suffocating. There are multiple inches of space between them - their chest and their knees - and yet breathing feels tight and heavy and hard. Perhaps it's because they're not really breathing full breaths, catching and stuttering on the only thing - beyond the heart that beats in their chest - keeping them alive. Perhaps it's because the tears falling won't stop.
(He had told them. He had. They knew this was coming, and yet some part of them didn't believe it. "You're my best friend." They told him that. A few times. They wish now, trying to wipe their tears and feeling only as they continue to absorb into their gloves, that they told him that more. They wish he knew - really knew - just how much of a 'best friend' they considered him.)
(It was too late now. Part of them blames themself for that.)
The tears don't stop even as the sun sets. It's not the first time they've fallen asleep here. Icarus doubts it'll be the last.
His grave glints under the dying light of the sun, beginning to shimmer beneath the moon. They can't quite see all the intricacies from where they're sat, both because tears blur their vision so much it's like they're underwater, and because they're sitting against the opposite hill. If they glitched that, they'd never fucking forgive themself.
(There's a reason, and intent, behind them not helping build the headstone or help bury him. If they fucked it up they wouldn't have words to describe their feelings to Quixis.)
Their tears slow - not stop, just slow - as the moon takes over the sky. It's quiet, and they pull their wings in close around them. A meek comfort after everything.
It's quiet, and so is the everything. (And so is everyone? Regardless.) It's quiet, and the only thing loud here is their thoughts. It's quiet, and maybe sometime they'll go home and sleep in a bed; today, tonight, was not that time. Their body too tired, and their emotions too spent, and their wings too stiff. (And going home would mean their father. And their father would mean questions. And questions would mean lies and lies and lies. And lies would mean nothing good.)
《▪︎▪︎》
(They blink, reaching up to wipe at their eyes and feel the hand against their cheek slip away. They hum softly, staring at the grass for a few moments before darting their eyes back up. Rae stares them back.
"Hi." Their voice is strained, rough with disuse and harsh with the grit that sobbing always leaves.
"Hey."
They smile, strained. (Their scar tugs uncomfortably at the motion.) Their ear wings pull close, and their elytra only puff and settle against them like a cozy blanket. "You need something..?"
Rae smiles softly, reaching up to fix the bits of hair that had fallen in front of their face. "How long have you been out here?"
"..a bit, why?"
"Mhm." He hums, disbelief clear in his tone. "Have you been sleeping here every day?"
They swallow, attempting to look anywhere but him. "No. I've slept. Other places." More uncomfortable places, but other ones.
He hums, shifting so he's sitting criss-cross in the grass. "Don't really believe that." He opens his arms, raising a gentle eyebrow and tilting his head just slightly.
They hum, shifting and shaking their wings out. His hug is gentle, and their head immediately buries itself in the crook of his neck. One of his hands messes gently with their hair, cleaning old tangles they haven't had the energy to deal with, and the other rubs their spine, gentle and comforting.
"Come home? We got a fairly un-used couch that I don't think anyone would mind you takin' until we can make a little room." His offer is gentle, whispered quietly between the rustling of the wind.
"What if I-"
"No," He cuts them off gently. "Weirder stuff has happened than the floors of our living room changing, Icarus. It'll be fine."
They swallow, slouching against him and loosening their grip on his middle. "Sure. Yeah. I can. Yeah."
"Thank you, Icarus."
"Mhm."
The tears that follow are nearly silent, and they can't help the way they squeeze him tight.)
《▪︎▪︎》