Whatever Will I Be Without You?

Plead

{Hi all!

I'm so sorry for the delay in this story update! I'm trying to get on a more sturdy schedule. I will hopefully have a response out every one to two weeks depending on length! I hope you're all staying safe  and taking some time each day to keep your mental health in the right place! Please enjoy!❤❤

-Berry 🍓}

Rays of the moon shone upon pale lids. Reflected off a marble complexion, illuminating skin to an ethereal look. He shifted, stirred, mind lulling back into something of a more conscious form as he settled his head back into the lap of the other, a firm hand threading through silken locks of hair. All was silent save a faint rustling of the treetops as they shared this calm moment, the two souls intertwined in peace. 

As Sam rested unbeknownst to the admiration of his significant other, he thought to the snippets of paragraphs he managed to read – no adult sat down to teach him how, not formally at least, his mother and his step dad, Demritus too unimportant to be grouped into a singular term of 'parents', too involved with his sister; but Sebastian managed to grasp the concept immediately; though his handwriting suffered the first two years of schooling when he began to attend, the adults of the household decided it best to force a proper education upon him for appearance purposes, he was convinced.  He was a quick learner. There were columns in the papers that his step-father used to leave lazing about on the kitchen table: about events, discoveries, the apparent winter season floating about, none of which caught Sebastian's attention the way they were intended to, instead the advice columns seemed to snag him.

 He remembered one that he read, in the dim lamplight on an unpleasantly warm summer night, perhaps a half decade before he would meet his one and only, on that singular perfect day. It was about love, which Sebastian assumed he didn’t care about, figured he never would, but the proverb stuck with him despite it: “Find love with one who feels like the sunlight, and you’ll never be cold again.” He forgot about it until they met, Sam and him. Yet, as the recent months passed, the quote was coming up in his thoughts more frequently than ever.

Sebastian figured that he’d always been a person to go above and beyond, in an aspect at least. If he had an extra cigarette or two; he would pawn them off to the occasional villager who dared to speak with him.   If he was looking for a meal, having escaped away from home for a gasp of fresh air; well, once he found a whole basket of day-old-apples, sure they’d been a bit aged, but they were delicious nonetheless.

 And here, when he was told to find some sunshine, some romantic metaphorical proverb that wasn’t meant to be taken so literally, he had fallen for the Sun.

 The center of his universe, that is what Sam is, Sebastian not thinking himself so important to compare himself to the Earth or  Venus,  just Mercury as he watched the model of the solar system spin and spin in his Science Classes,  – an unimportant little half-a-planet, barely the size of Earth’s Moon, easily swallowed up by the sunlight though it clung to the rays anyway, the Sun’s tiniest admirer.

 Maybe he needed to be softer on himself, but it was hard not to feel unimportant besides Sam, who seemed to be the perfect sort of person, amazingly clever and expressive, in ways that Sebastian struggled with. And truly, who else could be the Sun, besides Sam? 

Sebastian had learned in his education that the old civilizations, the ancient humans, the Greeks, thought that all of the Gods lived on the top of the highest mountain, they thought that Apollo – the most dashingly handsome God, sometimes it was the equally striking Helios -  pulled the Sun across the sky in golden chariots. Yet, there seemed to be no patron of the Sun, not the way there was a patron of the sea or the thunderstorms. Just a traveler of the sky.  Sebastian figured that if there was a personification of the Sun, it’d be the strong willed, protector of him before him now.

 He loved to watch the sun rise and set, that Helios or Apollo tugging it across the sky, because it was always the same sun that Sam saw, that he saw in Sam,  it reminded him of his anchor. His rock. His love. When he was off in hiding of the extremes of life, lonesome meetings his boyfriend couldn't attend, he always found his eyes moving, finding a window, gazing at the horizon, searching for the Sun, and without the presence of the man he is near now, it always seemed to shrink only a little bit. But it was still impossibly big, dusting everything with its light.

He seemed to have a sense for Sam, and he wondered if the random feelings of dread he felt during the day were related to anything he experienced – as silly as it sounded, Sebastian would force himself to feel happy, an emotion hard for him to muster, hoping that it may somehow transfer over to his partner,  as if they were bonded like that. And in a way, they were. He is drawn to Sam like sheet-white moths to a flame, he is drawn to Sam like the mountain peaks long to pierce through the sky, he wants nothing more than to bury himself entirely in Sam, the essence of the lad. The warmth that he radiates is more than enough to keep others than just Sebastian warm, but he wanted it all to himself. Sam is more than fire, he is more than sunlight like the article suggested, he's the entire Sun, only difference being that Sam is more pleasant to look at, and a great deal younger.

Stars shone above in the inky sky, while the air danced around them slowly.  “Hey, look up,” the sound of Sam's voice shattered the serene atmosphere, yet simultaneously made it so much more so, the volume still seeming inappropriate in the peace nevertheless. A broad hand moved, carefully cradled his chin as he tipped his sight upwards.   “Look there," his sight moved, and followed the finger that now was pointed, "That’s Cetus, and that’s Corvus,  and right beside Corvus is Cassiopeia.” Sebastian loved the passion that leaked into his voice as his boyfriend pointed out the constellations; they've spent many a lazy evenings like this, Sam playing with his hair and telling him each and every tale of the stars that he could; of the epic battles and the lost lovers, romance and tragedy spinning off his tongue. Suddenly it become all too apparent that Sam is no longer looking at the sky, rather gazing downwards at him, and he felt his cheeks heat at the admiration. 

"Someday I'll get them all for you, did you know that?" The man spoke in his rugged voice, yet it whispered like the soft, cascading winds, "I'll wrangle up each and every one to weave within your hair, adorn you." Most wouldn't peg his boyfriend as very eloquent, but as he spoke poems that touched the others heart, he could sense tears of love seeping into his dark eyes, "Someday I'll get you the stars. " his words had the finality of a gunshot. He said it with so much confidence, with so much tenderness. And yet, he knew it wasn't needed. Why should he lust after the stars when he already has the Sun? The brightest of them all. 

He stirred, moving his spindly frame so he was sitting before Sam, legs intertwined ever so slightly, "I don't need them," with a throat thick with emotion he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together  softly and feeling the warmth bloom as it always does when he feels Sam's touch upon his skin, "I don't need the stars or the clouds, the moon or the sky," downcast eyes matched the dreary forecast pulling in, "I don't need none of it. Why should I? I've got the Sun. And that's all I need. I just need to have you.". 

There's a deep chuckle as Sam captured his lips for a far too fleeting moment, not pulling back enough when he finished to separate their resting. One cold drop, two, shattering on his forearms unprotected by his short sleeved shirt, "and you'll never not have me," his hand is enclosed by the others as Sam hoists himself up, standing, helping pull his boyfriend from the now dampened shingles of the roof as the droplets became more frequent, "I swear it," those kind eyes lock with his own and a sense of peace and perfection replaces his blood, flows to every part of his body, "but, c'mon, Sebby," he cooes, "it's time to go.".

He feels as wet as when the sky finally opened up and began to pour down, brutal sobs wreaking havoc as he scrubs fruitlessly at his cheeks, more tears only coming to replace the ones dried. Muddy waters soaks through the fabric of his jeans as he curls further into the woodland floor, screaming out to the open air to bring his love back; but no godly power dared to answer such a plead.