Work Text:
Jongseob liked looking at the light, even if it was quite oppressive. Even if it hurted his eyes or made him dizzy from staring so much, he couldn't stop devoting his gaze entirely to that single emanating light. It pulled him in like the most melodic flow, urging him to come closer, and closer, to touch its rays. Trace them carefully and gently with his fingertips and feel their warmth on his skin.
He couldn't reach him.
It was too dangerous. Too much to lose.
He could just admire from afar, where he belonged.
But his longing was as desperate as Naiá's, the one who chased the moon. Or more so. He needed to feel him, needed his light inside of him, to bathe his soul. Being a mere admirer perhaps hurted him more than the bright light ever would.
The string of poems he sang without a recipient were his wings. Fragile like a teenager's affection, they needed to be handled with care.
But adoration was something eager, something that didn't care about zeal.
Foolish like Icarus.
He could never reach the sun.