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Icarus landed in the lake, unconscious. The hiss of boiling flesh meeting frigid water was unmistakable, steam rising from the limp body as it sunk further into the depths. It was quite a sight to behold. A golden boy, wings coated in starlight and promises, fallen from the sky. He'd been so close to the sun. Too close. His once smooth skin was torn by burns, garish red against his pale tone. His magnificent wings were singed and blackened.
And then he awoke. Straining against the strong lull of the current, he pulled himself to the surface and gasped a deep breath. Despite the life still filling his body, he was weakened and almost unable to keep himself afloat. But love was a vicious thing, and some how he swam and swam and swam until his feet brushed against the sharp stones of the shallows and he collapsed, only half out of the water.
Some time later, warm hands scooped up his small, broken body, handling him him with both concern and reverence.
Icarus' eyes fluttered open, and he smiled weakly at the only person he wanted to see. His one secret, his one sin. The only one he'd ever consider running from everything for.
Apollo smiled down at him with sad eyes. "Its okay now," he murmured as he brushed his lips against Icarus' blistered ones. "Your father won't find us here."
