Icarus

The area had been abandoned for years, just the calming birdsong and rustle of animals breaking the silence. Trees had grown and fallen, animals had lived and died, thrived and collapsed in a vicious cycle. Nothing can live forever, everything always leaves this earth with a promise that is final and concrete and abrupt. And that was a a notion heavier than the humid atmosphere surrounding the clearing. In the centre lay a gravestone. A tribute to a life that would never be forgotten. Remembered, but not honoured.

The ugly truth was that many would love to forget, to pretend that this man's actions had never occurred. They pushed him to the backs of their minds, coving any remaining trace with a dark veil, only lifted on occasion. They attempted to move on and rebuild what this man had destroyed. But his legacy is a thing that few men can forget. And to this day it lives on, a breathing, living, ugly cloud of regrets and failures and successes. No one wants to remember, but everyone does. An action like his was not intended to be forgotten.

To most he was a villain, a one-dimensional bad guy of the story. To some, he was a hero, the man who accomplished something they had strived to achieve. And to one, he was an innocent boy - led viscously and ruthlessly down the wrong path.

~~~

The boys footsteps echoed softly through the abandoned clearing. Leaves crunched underfoot, and the wind whispered secrets to the leaves. He trudged, head down and clutching a bouquet of bright blue flowers, already wilting in the mid-afternoon heat. Trees stood like sentries, always on guard and watching, waiting for someone to approach. He trembled as he passed them, nearly at his destination. His brain told him to turn around, the harsh voice getting louder with every passing step. Sharply, his footsteps stopped. Dark tendrils of doubt crept into his mind, their thorns scratching holes into his plan. But he had decided that he needed this closure, needed to see him one last time before he could begin to move on. With a sense of determination, he pushed his white goggles up to his forehead – a gift from a friend long ago – clearing his vision as he read the engraved name.

Sweeping the mottled grey stone, his eyes watered and he let out a strangled sob. An ugly sound full pf pain and emotion and longing, longing for someone who was never coming back. Dropping to his knees, he gently laid the flowers down in front of the grave. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he mumbled the engraving, immortalised in stone.

"Here lies Wilbur Soot, loving brother and friend, may he rest in peace"

~~~~

The memories came back to him all at once. Shards of glass that hurt him more and more each time he recalled them.

Sneaking out for late night conversations – away from prying eyes. The laughs they had shared, full of innocence and unfiltered happiness. Feasting on cake and exchanging stories in the diminishing light. These memories always made his tears well and his heart throb. They brought out a part of him that only one person had ever seen. But that person was lying deep in the earth under his knees.

And when George remembered that, his heart would break all over again. His eyes would slip closed and his head would fall to his chest. He knew that he would never be able to properly say goodbye to the one person he had ever loved.

He didn't remember when he had found words to describe that feeling. The feeling of Wil's arms wrapped tightly around him. Of the rise of his heart when he saw him. Of the feeling of never being alone. Of having someone to talk to, someone who listened. Wil had filled his days with light when all he could see was darkness, and for that he was eternally grateful.

With every passing day Georges love for him grew. His heart fluttered as he watched Wilbur's expression. Passion and excitement radiating across his face as spoke, as he acted, as he sung.

The music was one of the things George missed most. His eyes lighting with excitement when Wil showed up with his guitar. His fingers gliding over the strings with a grace George could never understand but was almost addictive to watch. It was as if the music had filled him, the soft melodies drifting peacefully in the wind. Wilbur's glasses rested on the tip of his nose, the circular frames refracting the late afternoon sun. His sandy blonde hair was held in place with a beanie, and a soft knowing smile was painted delicately across his features. But what George yearned for was Wilbur's gentle laugh as he caught is lover staring at him.

"You're gorgeous." was all he would say in return to the questioning gaze.

And Wil would smile lovingly, and that was all he had ever needed.

The music had exposed a whole new side of his lover. A side that was filled with vulnerability and rawness. One that made George love him just that little bit more.

~~~

But George knew it could never last. They were on opposite sides of a war - an un-ravelling that was consuming them both. Their days together had been numbered from the start. Slowly, George had begun to notice the twitch of Wil's body, the way a a frown made its way onto his face when he thought George wasn't looking. He noticed their quick departures in place of draw-out embraces. How it was getting increasingly hard to keep him present, keep him focussed, keep him there. Not long ago he had realised Wilbur's fixation on taking down Manburg. Over time, his eyes became manic and his speech, rushed, as his obsession took hold of the last morsel of the man he used to be. The man George loved.

He should have known. George should have known then and there that it was going to end in tragedy. Should have distanced himself from a man that was descending into madness. Should of protected himself from the chaos that was going to endure, from the emotional and physical damage that was inevitably going to occur. But he didn't. Couldn't. So, he stayed. Watched as the boy he loved tore himself apart. He tried to reason with him but was always ignored or brushed to the side, he couldn't get through Wilburs heavy facade, the one thing that separated them. He was a bystander, unable to intervene as his lover became more and more overtaken on the destruction of a nation he had once controlled. And he couldn't do anything except watch.

"It was never meant to be", Wilbur remarked one night under the stars, wide eyes and staring, penetrating Georges small frame.

"Stay with me" George had pleaded, eyes filled with sadness and hope.

"Love, you know I can't, you know I have to go"

George had refused to say goodbye, refused to admit that this might be the end. Holding on to the pathetic hope that he would return from his mission. That he would come back as the same man George knew. The same man he loved. And now he was paying the price.

~~~~

In front of the gravestone, his damp knees indenting the soft ground as the sweet sting of tears flowed freely down his face, he said his final goodbye. And as he whispered the words, whispered the symphony of his guilt and love and longing, he came to terms with a simple fact.

George had fallen for an Icarus, and he had flown too close to the sun.

A/N

hope you enjoyed

votes/comments are pog :]

feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3