A boy finds freedom, wearing a parody of bird wings on his back.
"You'll burn if you get any closer,"
"I don't believe you," Icarus says, every syllable a prayer in their own right. "I can't believe you," Nothing that beautiful could ever hurt him.
Apollo's smile curls the edges of his lips. Godly limbs meet mortal flesh and they tangle, together. Apollo desperately catalogs every detail, burns it into his memory - the scent of sweat and seawater and wax; the deep hazel stare; the way freckles bloom when he runs his fingers, feather-light across the boy's cheek. When their lips meet, Icarus feels distant flames.
He watches as the wax holding those wings drips, drips, drips down the boy's naked shoulders. No matter how tightly they clutch at each other - Icarus falls into the ocean below.
The loss of a two-second lover.
If only they'd had time.
still at it w tragic gay greek couples. no i will not stop.