"You; the radiant sun — And I; poor Icarus".
It was almost as if Carlos was the sun — no, fuck ‘almost’ — he was certainly the sun with that beaming smile.
And Harry Hook was utterly unfortunate enough to be Icarus — flying too close to the sun; nearing possible danger — which, indeed it was worse — and wrong, that he knew it was bad to continue known of the consequences.
But he jus’ couldn’t help it — to fly towards the blissful heaven; as close to the sun — close as he could be allowed.
Oh, Evil, he was in deep for this pup.
The first time they kissed, the dreamy summer was about to end.
Carlos laid beside the Hook boy on the bulky bed full of junk, staring at the decayed roof of the ship with diffuse tranquility. Harry's room smelled of salt and damp, of a stale coastal breeze. Carlos preferred it — hell; maybe even liked that it was so different from the smell of dust and confinement of his own house; so cold, so silent. The ship was rocking gently.
Harry leaned back next to him — his everlasting; bubbling joy, looking at him longingly with that gaze broken from so much confidence that made Carlos's heart stop.
The pirate moved his head towards Carlos who was all smiles like almost always; enjoying the warmth of the sunset — his lips, his eyes, his curls, shone in the heavy sunlight that came through the hatch. Harry could feel his throat tickle.
They had been like this for several weeks, secret escapades, moments of reverie. Carlos himself wasn’t sure why. They were rivals, opposites. But at a point, along the way, they had understood each other; in the weariness of the fight, and had created little by little, as if woven with the most delicate thread; a truce made from hopes.
But Harry knew why — even if VK’s had never knew what the concept of love was; let alone the feel. Except now; he’s got a clear idea.
He wouldn’t let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Not now; not when Carlos’ on Harry’s bed. “Ay, ye,” Harry cooed as he used his silver hook to lift Carlos’ chin.