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Greyson laid back on the bed, feeling the gentle rocking of the boat around him. The sea tipped gently, the weather clement and the waves just gently batting at the sides of the vessel. The golden, rising sunlight streamed in from a porthole that was halfway covered with blue-green washes of seawater, seaglass light cast over the pair.
Greyson had one arm wrapped around the figure curled up at his side and one arm extended above his head, his legs tangled in with the figure’s. That figure, of course, was Jerico- his hair was haphazardly tied back, having been done so quickly as a small emergency arose on the boat late the previous night. Greyson hummed quietly at the memory; it couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time for them both. With Jerico’s arms around Greyson’s waist, his hands tangled up in Jerico’s soft ringlets, and the taste of fresh fruit still sweet on each other’s lips and the smell of sea and salt in the air, tearing away from that all so soon had left Greyson almost Dizzy. His heart had beat irregular and fast in his chest, body suddenly cold and his wits returning to him much slower than they had to Jerico. His heart had beat fast, almost nervously, like it had all those months ago when-
Greyson choked.
He had forgotten how fresh the memories of The Toll were still.
He suddenly glanced nervously around the boat, knowing and hating that the thunderhead was always watching, the eyes raking over him because there was no way to escape it. It wasn't like when Jerico would slowly take in Greyson with those dark eyes of his, his gaze loving but still leaving Greyson shaking and nervous and aching in some way he couldn't fully identify without tripping over some odd or end of his fractured memories. No; the cameras were invasive in a way that made his skin itch. So Greyson pulled the sheets over his and Jerico’s heads and turned to face his partner, who was just beginning to stir awake. The two’s noses bumped together just slightly, stale breath mixing and ghosting across each other’s lips.
“Morning,” Jerico shifted to tuck his head into Greyson’s chest, his arms pulling the much lankier man closer. Greyson chuckled under his breath; he always admired how easy it was for Jerico to pull him out of his own mind.
“Good morning,” Greyson sighed as he kissed the top of Jerico’s head. Just enough sunlight streamed in through the blanket that Greyson could see the outline of his partner, and he smiled at yet another memory; every early morning with Jerico, whenever he’d take off his bonnet and the sunlight would shine its golden light on his curls and gave him a shimmering halo. If Greyson could think of anything like it without his skin crawling and dread filling him, maybe he would think that the mortal age had really gotten something right with the whole Angel idea.
“Is this my sweater?” Jerico muttered, one hand tugging at the hem of Greyson’s lilac sweater, the other one rubbing gentle circles into his back. Greyson couldn't see the sweater, but considering the way it hung off him while also feeling too short and smelled like Jerico’s sweet coconut perfume, it probably was Jerico’s.
“Probably,” Greyson hummed. “Do you mind?”
“Nah,” Jerico pulled back, smiling up at his boyfriend. “You look cute.” Greyson was suddenly glad for the lack of light, because the blush that rose to his face was noticeably bright.
The lack of light, however, was soon taken away as Jerico rolled sideways and straddled Greyson’s hips, lifting the blanket with him. In some odd, roundabout way, Greyson thought back to an old memory- a much younger version of himself seeing a picture of Scythe Xenocrates, his ride frame and golden robes making tiny little Grey think of the sun. Except, Greyson knew what the sun was like now; it had a halo of dark brown curls and Raven eyes, and the only robe it wore was the blanket hanging around its bare shoulders. Greyson could also absentmindedly drum his hands on the sun’s thighs as they discussed their plans for the day.
The sun had a taste that varied; from the sweetness of their garden’s cantaloupes or the slight tingle of spiced dark chocolate on soft lips, to the slight saltiness of smooth skin and tentative touches and plenty of nights saying “maybe not tonight; I’m still not ready”, and that was perfectly alright for the both of them because they could never push the other like that. The sun could taste like spiked cherry limeades one day and cheeks covered in salty tears the next, and Greyson would never mind.
The sun had a voice, it had a song. It had a voice that could make Greyson emotional and so smitten with one whisper one moment, and laughing to tears the next moment, and then painfully yearning the final moment. Every once in a while, he’d catch Jerico singing and it would be so beautiful. Greyson truly believed that Jerico could talk him down from any painful moment, and he had yet to be disproven.
The sun was… beyond warm. Greyson had once thought of the sun, high above in the sky, as uncomfortably hot and humid. But the sun he had now, the one he could hold in his arms, had a soft warmth to him. His breath was warm when it ghosted gently across Greyson’s skin; his hands were warm and calloused but somehow still soft. His deep laugh filled Greyson with a sort of warmth that made him laugh as well, his hands always suddenly fidgety. Maybe the sun did sometimes have a solar flare of heat, whenever Greyson would see Jerico internally snap and turn slightly passive aggressive when something truly wore him down.
The sun was a person that Greyson thought he could be around for the rest of his life. And the sun seemed to think so as well, as he leaned down to press his lips to Greyson’s for an early-morning kiss.