apollo watched icarus.

the god watched as icarus was melting wax, skin tight over his knuckles, voice strained as he yelled out after the hot wax dripped onto his pale skin.

oh, i’m sorry, my dearest.

the god watched as icarus was melding the metal frame together, arms taught and muscular, working over the flame, cursing as the flame grazed his palm.

oh, another one.

apollo watched icarus.

the god watched as icarus sat at the cliffs edge, staring out at the grey ocean below, grinning when the water sprayed into his golden hair.

i wish things were different.

apollo was a prophet. he knew icarus was going to burn, he knew that icarus was going to drown. still, he couldn’t seem to put an end to his fascination. apollo knew that he’d be the demise of his lover, but he couldn’t help himself. once he began to care, he just couldn’t let go.

im sorry, darling. i wish that i was different. i wish that you were different. i’m sorry for falling in love. i’m sorry you fell in love.