Icarus shall fly (the flower long since wilted)

Orange Lillies

Hello my loves! It's slime, I just want to check in with you all before this chapter, I'm going to begin adding TWs to each chapter!

TW: panic attack, emo-ness
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It's been an hour since that weird ass customer graced him with the lack of their presence, and he's finally closing up. It's too late to buy coffee (cause he's not a fucking wrongen that drinks coffee at night) so Tommy is gonna have to deal with lukewarm water on his walk home. Ew.

He puts on his raggedy coat with a feeling of dread- he doesn't know how much longer he can handle going home.

Without him

He cuts that thought at the stem. It's been four months, he needs to get over it. He trudges through the streets, ignoring the hero fights fading into vigilantes fighting. He ignores the pain that grows in his chest seeing them.

Halfway to home, Tommy is greeted by a rather exiting sight (for most, EXCEPT the great Tommyinnit). The 'hero' Dream fighting the villain Siren on top of Tommy's FAVORITE FUCKING BAKERY. These two have never had manners- way to ruin his fucking day.

It takes a second to process in his head.

Dream...?

His lungs are Cotten, his legs lead. Bees swarm inside his ears, their once soft buzzing now holding the obligation to distort his hearing- overtaking his every thought. The sounds of the fight are background noise. He can barely think. He slides down the wall of the alley- when did he go in an alley...?

Everything goes black.

When his eyes open, it's darker. It's quiet, the fight long gone- but when is it ever gone? He has a deep dark in his chest, now risen to his throat and fists; he pushes it down, there is no need.

Hatred
Isn't it...?

*~~~*

The walk was as uneventful as it could be in a city infested with self righteous hero's and villains. It's too quiet, but when is it not...? He can remember. He always will remember.

The barren streets are a haunting calm. As the raccoon of a man he is- he doesn't make it to the door. He grabs the edge of the rusted fire escape, jumping and swinging his leg over the edge. He hoists himself up and ignores the pain as he bumps his head on the railing.

He drags his feet, walking up the stairs- used to the incessant creaking of the rust-ridden metal. Opening the window to his apartment he puts his head and arms through, slipping in like a snake.

"I'm home."

He announces flatly. He doesn't do that joking 'honey I'm home!' Shit anymore. There's no use. He's met with the usual silence that feels like a knife propped up by a hand shrouded in green.

He knows Ranboo is probably in the bedroom. He closes the window harshly, glaring at the wood continuously splintering without any upkeep. He throws himself onto the couch, landing in a half-sitting half-laying position. He slams the remote into the couch repeatedly till the power-on button un-sticks itself.

When the TV turns on, he's met with the news. The rich fuck in a suit is halfway through informing the viewers about a battle between the villain Siren and the Hero Dream that happened earlier today. Huh that must've been the fight he saw...

A chuckle finds its way out of him when he sees the infamous 'scary, evil, murderous' Siren give the hero a bouquet of flowers. Hah, he knows what those flowers mean, it's quite funny.

With that positive end of the day, Tommy promptly passes out on the couch.

*~~~*

Tommy wakes up at the ripe time of 1:23 Am. Fun. He pulls himself up in a sitting position and checks the clock, sighing at the time. He has a little tingle in his hands, feeling the want to use his powers- he hates that feeling.

His head deviates from his common sense as his eyes drift to the far closet. Maybe he could... sure, he left that life long ago but that shouldn't stop him. And who says he needs to be a vigilante this time...?

He's made his decision. He's finally starting to understand what they are fighting for. What he's fighting for.

Ziiiiipppp!

Icarus is back baby!

Looking at the stains on the gloves and chest reestablishes the hollow feeling. He stares at the small Bee emblem on the sleeve, showing who made the suit.

He wills himself to move, time to get back to work... Icarus has been revived, Tommy's dead for now.

He opens the window, but hesitates, a look of dismay flashing through his masked eyes. Not yet.

He pulls a yellow and black gas mask over his face, it's not his- but he feels it's okay to use.

Climbing out the window, he doesn't look back. Hesitation is death, he has learned that lesson. With the creaking of the stairs only slightly dampening his adrenaline he runs out. He runs across the empty and dark streets before turning to an ever-so-familiar alley.

Icarus hops onto the dumpster on the end and climbs up a ladder on the side of the building. He takes a second of breath, wincing at how rusty he's become. Regaining his footing, he walks to the other edge of the building. He stares down, the feeling of desperation when this high up never leaving, and jumps across. He lets out his breath when his feet are both under him in the next rooftop.

He spends the next hour jumping across rooftop. occasionally he begins attempting to start conversation, but looking over his shoulder he remembers- no one's there, no one ever will be there again.

By the time the moon has dipped under the horizon and the sun just begins peeking through the tree line, Icarus sits calmly on the edge. He stares at the sunrise, vacant spots on either side of him. He wonders if they'll ever be filled again, though it can never return to the same.

The soft shuffle of someone sitting on his left is the only thing he hears, he rests his head on their shoulder.

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Word count: 1009

Goal for next chapter: 1500-2000