Chapter Text
“We’re all the stars in the sky,” I tell him. I describe those same stars he’s never seen, the City lights blotting out the tiny pinpricks of light I’d fallen in love with as a six-year-old, through my bedroom window. “The heavens can’t hardly touch you, love.”
He laughs at that, elbowing me in the ribs. “How poetic,” he snorts, “where’d you read that? One of your illegal books?”
“I mean it,” I murmur, serious. We’re sitting in his bed, the blank white sheets wrapped around warm, flushed bodies. “I read this story, once, about this boy who fell in love with the Sun.”
“Let me guess - I’m the boy? Climbing too high? You’re full of it.”
“You’re the Sun,” I reply, taking his face and running my hands through his pale blond hair. He closes his eyes, a pleased smile playing across his face at this. “And you know how the story ended?”
“No.” He knows exactly how it ends - I’ve told him before. He’s merely playing along, his eyes dancing with humor.
“He flew to touch the Sun, and he got too close. His wings fell apart, and he fell into the sea and died.”
“How romantic.”
I straighten up, the blankets falling away. “No, love. He loved the Sun so much he was willing to give up his life for that. I think it’s wonderful.”
“Of course you do, you fucking sap.” He brings his hand up to my jaw, pulling me into a kiss. He’s like stardust, running through my veins. Iron and heat and kisses that keep on drawing me in, even though I’m running absurdly late at this point.
Oh, what the hell. I kiss him back, and we fall back onto the mattress, his hands tangled in my hair and a gasping whisper that I manage to squeeze out - Icarus, the name of the boy who flew too close to the Sun. Me. And this bleached-blond boy with the crooked fingers and the raspy laugh with his head on the pillow, his golden hair making a halo around his head, just like the fucking angel he is, is the fucking Sun. He smiles up at me, teasing slightly, his eyebrow crooked in an unasked question, and I answer it with my mouth.
Heat is practically radiating off of him, his cheeks flushed and his brown eyes warm and bright. He reaches his hand up and brushes my jaw with his thumb, tracing the line where it connects to my neck over and over. He’s so fucking beautiful.
So fucking beautiful. I kiss him again, his eyes sticking shut this time, and lean back a few inches, admiring everything about this beautiful boy spread out on wrinkled white sheets, pale skin spotted with moles and freckles, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths in an effort to regulate his blush (it isn’t working, but it’s so damn cute), his fucking wonderful arms, pulling me closer, tugging at my hips, crooked fingers and knobby knuckles, full, flushed, chapped pink lips, parted slightly as he breathes out and in, long eyelashes fluttering as I lean in to kiss him again, pushing his hair back from his forehead…
“You’re flying too high, Icarus,” he teases, wrapping his arms around my neck as I kiss him harder. “You’re gonna get burned,” he half-sings.
“Oh, shut up,” I groan, and lean in one more time.