The nights were no longer too long in the company of Apollo.

His voice was velvety as told Icarus of Greece; his voice was smooth, like silk running across his skin, like the smooth Aegean Sea on a good day. Apollo's voice was a treasure to Icarus, much like the Athena Parthenos in which it described, in its extravagant golden glory. Icarus wanted to hold his voice close to his heart, he wanted to replay it again and again, and he would in his head. He remembered its' calming tones, as it spoke of Lesbos' illustrious poets.

Icarus would also treasure the silence. Sometimes, especially on a low day, Icarus and Apollo wouldn't say anything to each other. They'd sit together, either on the windowsill or in bed, and they'd just keep each other company, because sometimes Icarus didn't want to talk, and sometimes Apollo didn't either.  The silence felt like some kind of peaceful truce between them; a truce of understanding. They didn't always have to talk, they just had to be there for support; and Apollo always was.

The world's weight now seemed lighter on Icarus' shoulders. It didn't seem to burden him so, likely thanks to the newfound, ever-warming company at his side, and Apollo seemed willing to carry part of Icarus' burden; he probably wouldn't carried all of it, had Icarus not insisted otherwise.

Even after spending night after night together, they didn't know much about each other. Icarus knee small amounts about Apollo, but that seemed like a given, since he was a widely worshipped god, (a phrase that'll never sound normal in Icarus' head) and Apollo knew a sparse amount about Icarus, thanks to his frequent prayers: yet there were still gaps in their knowledge of each other, people in their lives left undescribed, years of their lives left unspoken, and yet it was unimportant to them. It seemed more important to know the person sat in front of them, rather than know the person they used to be.

If Apollo had asked, he would've found that Icarus was a carefree child, a boy who lived without consequence. He believed he was going to escape Crete, he believed every word that came out of his father's mouth; he believed in everything. He believed.

These days, Icarus didn't do much believing. He begged and he prayed sure, but before he met Apollo, Icarus thought he was praying to thin air. Before he met Apollo, it felt like he was praying to thin air.

Tonight was different than the other nights, but at first Icarus couldn't tell why. Nothing special or out of the ordinary had happened that day, so what had him feeling so strange?

Around midnight, when Apollo arrived, Icarus found out why. It had not been a 'strange feeling' but rather a 'sense of foreboding'.

"Icarus, tonight I'd like to take you somewhere." He said, as he landed gracefully on the windowsill from wherever.

"You want to take me somewhere?" Icarus questioned, now no longer scared to meet Apollo's warm eyes. "Where?"

Apollo grinned cheekily and walked towards Icarus. He then took ahold of Icarus' hand and began pulling him towards the window. "I want to take you to the sea."

Icarus' eyebrows furrowed and he stopped in his tracks, just before the windowsill. "You want to take me to the sea? But I'm not allowed to leave the palace!" He told Apollo. "What if someone sees? What if someone finds out? I'll be punished!"

Apollo continued to hold Icarus' hand, as if it were his lifeline. "No one will know, no one will see, and you will not be punished. Trust me."

Icarus knew that it would be reckless of him to let Apollo drag him to the sea, because even he could not ensure total secrecy, but he kept ahold of Apollo's hand anyway, against his better judgement.

His heart was dragging him towards Apollo, just as Apollo was dragging him towards the window ledge.

"Stop!" Icarus exclaimed, digging his heels into the white brick of the window. "I can't do this! I'm going to fall!"

Apollo smiled again. "Dear Icarus." He began, as he took one foot off of the brick. "I wouldn't let you fall. I would pick up the sky if it were falling on you. You will be fine, rest assured."

And Apollo stepped off of the windowsill, taking Icarus with him.

Icarus' eyes were stuck shut, awaiting the incoming impact on the chalky ground. But it never came; regardless, Icarus was still too scared to open his eyes. He could feel Apollo's warm body on his, the wind in his hair and the lack of solid ground beneath his feet.

It was a magical feeling. Icarus daren't say he was flying, but it certainly felt like it. For the first time, he felt as if he had earned his mother's nickname: poulí. He was flying amongst the birds, he felt alive for the first time.

Soon enough though, Icarus felt ground beneath his feet once again. But it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before; it was grainy like sugar, only warm. He liked to run it in between his toes and sink his feet into it. It was soft.

Apollo's hand was still holding his, despite the fact that they had landed.

"You can open your eyes now." Apollo said softly.

Icarus did so.

Apollo had well and truly taken his to the sea. His feet were submerged in the dry sand high up the beach, but not too far in front of him was the sea. It was rippling quietly in small, irregular waves, with Selene's moon reflecting coldly on its' surface. The water was dark, so Icarus could see much of the view he usually would from his window, but he knew it was all there; but more importantly, Icarus was outside, he almost couldn't contain himself.

Apollo smiled in the dark.

"This is the sea?" Icarus asked, taking small steps forward towards its' lapping edge. "It's beautiful."

"It's much more beautiful during the day, I must say." Apollo replied as he walked slowly behind Icarus, who's steps towards the shore had now grown in size. "On a particularly clear day, you can see the nearby islands."

Icarus stopped just before the calmly rolling water. He knew it was just water, it wasn't going to hurt him if he touched it, but he hesitated anyway.

The waves came in, and the water lapped around his toes, washing away the sand that had stuck itself to him. It wasn't particularly cold, nor was it particularly warm; it was welcoming him, inviting him in.

"Don't go too far." Apollo warned him.

"I won't." Icarus replied as he took one small step forward and felt a shiver down his spine as the water swallowed his feet. He watched it swirl around his ankles for a while, before walking further in, until it came to his knees and it began to soak the edges of his chiton.

"This, this is wondrous." Icarus laughed, as he ran his hands over the surface of the water. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Apollo smiled at Icarus' wonder from the shore. "I'm glad you like it so much." He replied. "You said that you couldn't leave Crete, so I thought about it and decided that you wouldn't have to."

Icarus laughed again. "Thank you! Thank you!" He exclaimed joyously. "I will never be able to thank you enough!"

Icarus felt like a child again. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of new- this was all new to him. He had never known the feeling of sand between his toes, or the feeling of water around his knees until now.

And Apollo had shown him it all.

He knew the stories of Apollo's overwhelming greed, his arrogance and his entitlement, there was no denying that side of the sun god existed, but in moments like this Icarus forgot all about it. In the moments Apollo gave him, he felt like a god himself.

Apollo took Icarus' hands in his after joining him in the knee-deep water. He smiled and ran his thumbs over Icarus' knuckles, just like he had done the first night they met, the night in which they spoke for hours and hours and hours until Icarus fell asleep, though this time there was silence between them. A silence that felt more meaningful than any word that could be said.

"I don't need your thanks." Apollo said quietly. "Your elation is thanks enough."

"Then I can't put my elation into words!" Icarus smiled in reply. "You, truly, have made me so happy, with something as simple as this."

"With something as simple as this." Apollo repeated to himself. "If you are happy, then I am happy too."

Icarus edged closer to Apollo until their toes touched under the water. It made him hesitate for a moment, maybe he was getting too close, but Icarus had long since decided to throw caution to the wind.

Icarus looked up and met Apollo's gaze with a confidence he hadn't had before. He drew himself ever closer to Apollo's warm body, their hands staying tightly intertwined with each other, just as their fates were.

Despite Icarus' welcomed confidence, Apollo's face fell serious. He'd had entanglements with mortals before- Hyacinthus most noticeably- and non had ended well. Icarus was young, he had an entire life to live and Apollo didn't want to ruin it. Icarus had never seen his arrogance, his bitterness, his entitlement- Apollo had made sure of it- he was living in a blissful lie, and he'd lived in one long enough. Apollo didn't want to fool him any longer, and so in this moment he decided to be honest.

Apollo dragged his finger delicately across Icarus cheek. "I'm not a good man." He said, gazing fondly into Icarus' dark eyes.

"I know." He replied, savouring every second of Apollo's touch.

"I'm arrogant."

"I know."

"And I'm bitter."

"I know."

"And I'll only ever leave you behind."

"I know. I know and I don't care. I'll never have a chance like this again Apollo. If I'm fated to be trapped in that palace my whole life, I have to seize every chance I get."

And suddenly, the stars went dark.

Apollo and Icarus met softly and slowly, gently. Neither wanted to rush the moment, they wanted to treasure it because they didn't know when such an opportunity would come again. If it ever would.

Apollo's lips felt soft against Icarus', as smooth as his palms, as warming as his words. He would've known he was kissing a god, even if he had made his move blind; Apollo felt divine up against him as they held each other tightly, like the world was going to end. They savoured every second they had together, in this moment.

The world around them fell away as they kissed. The stars stopped shining, the sea stopped rippling beneath them, and the moon stopped moving in the sky as if Selene had stopped to watch them in their blissful, beautiful silence.

After a immeasurable, incomprehensible amount of time, they finally pulled apart with the greatest reluctance. They were scared that, should they pull away, they'd loose the other forever. And they didn't want to.

"I never want this moment to end." Apollo whispered breathlessly. "But I fear it might."

Icarus smiled, his forehead still grazing Apollo's. "That is the nature of moments." He said. "They always find a way to come to an end."

"Then, I will make it my duty as a god to stop them."

"Then I shall wish you all the best in your endeavour, because I am savouring this moment as well."

During that night, they had many more blissful moments. They met many more times, and many more times did the world stop. It was if Eros had laughed at them long enough, drawn back his bow until it could be drawn no more, and fired it at them. It was as if they were the first mortals being given the gift of sight, and the gift of touch.

Icarus had never felt love such as this. A love that felt as if it could tear through the bounds of time, status and nature. It felt like a blossoming flower in his chest, a heavy weight in between his ribs, like the sky had been dropped onto his shoulders, a sky that weighed less than a feather.

Apollo had felt such love before, this fleeting feeling, but the times in which he had felt it had never ended well. Hyacinthus had died because of his childlike naivety and his desire to keep him to himself. Such a thing wasn't possible. And Coronis- who gave him something he could never replace- died because of his bitter jealously. She knew the gods were incapable of being loyal, and yet when she was not to him, he threw his arms to the sky.

It was as if the gods of love had forsaken him.

And this time, he could only hope they hadn't forsaken him again.