the sun looks good on you - solangelo

17- i dreamt we were young gods

"why me?"

"what do you mean?" will asks even though he knows exactly what i mean.

"i want to know. why me?"

i stare out into the streets below as i talk on the phone. the night is vibrant as always. my thoughts are full of him.

"well there's lots of reasons. i couldn't possibly list them all. i like all the things about you." will's voice is distorted through the phone, but i still recognize its familiar cadence and sound. i could hear pages of his textbook turn as he was doing homework. he's really good at multitasking.

"what a cop out answer," i scoff jokingly.

he laughs and my heart flutters. "well it's just that i've been living sorta just in a trance ever since i started school. the world was so dull and and monotonous. you're... no offense... kinda detached from all of it. talking to was the only thing that felt real."

there's not much to say to that. i rack my brain for words that would be fitting as a reply, but nothing comes up. the words are only just sinking in.

"nico?"

"i'm still here,"

"oh, good. i was worried i said something wrong."

"no. it's just hard to comprehend."

"well, why me, then?" i hear him clicking his pen nervously. click, click, click.

i close my eyes. the night was growing late and i felt tired. i don't feel sleepy often, but his voice sounded like a gentle hum and it was making my eyelids droop. and i've felt so much in such a small span of time lately. it's exhausting.

"because you're everything that i am not." i don't know what it means, but i say it and it feels true. in all honesty, it's hard to place what it is about will. he just is. and that is more than enough for me. that's the power he has. he could just be and it would be enough.

i couldn't ever just be. i feel like every gasp of breath is a fight for me. every word i say is a directed attempt at being something or someone. i don't know. my brain is fuzzy from the tiredness and the warm hum of his voice. i want to sleep with him near me. it feels cold without him here, but at least with him on the phone, my thoughts are not warring in my head.

"nico, are you falling asleep?"

"no," i answer. there is a carousel in my mind. the golden horses drift in circles as music gently plays. it's nice to have such a familiar pattern in your head.

"okay," will says. i can almost hear him smiling. his vowels always sound different when he smiles. it's quite lovely. i'd love to see his dimples. my eyes have been closed for too long.

i drifted asleep. i had a dream.

there's sunlight bathing the whole earth in warmth. even the cool stone under our feet felt warm to the touch.

i'm running, my legs flying. it hardly feels like i am, though my breathing is labored. the air is dry and the morning is calm. i don't know how, but i know where to run and who i am chasing.

him.

i see him running. his barefoot feet carry him high into the air. his neck turns to look at me and he is grinning wide. i see that quick flash of gold as the sun hits his hair. he weaves in and out of the columns. sunlight shines through the leaves causes dancing light and shadow on us. i pick up my pace and extend my arm. my fingers brushes his. then our hands meet. i grasp it tightly, holding him back.

"got you!" the voice is mine, but i can hardly recognize it. it sounds happier. younger.

he laughs and we both stop running. his white tunic ripples in the light breeze. he has freckles up and down his tan arms and spattering his pink cheeks. we are both breathing too hard to speak. there is an olive laurel in his light hair. the leaves are dark against the brightness of it. the contrast steals my breath.

"you are fast. and quiet, too. i could hardly hear you approaching." he tells me after catching his breath. the compliment warms me from my insides. the warm air and running has made our faces very pink. his hand still clutches mine.

we lean against a tall, white column as we catch our breath. the fig trees sway over us as we watch the morning. the air is arid and warm. trees hand heavy with the burden of glistening fruit. the sound of light wind.

"look," he says to me as we looked upon the greek city below us. the sun rises higher in the sky. "apollo on his golden chariot."

"what of it? he does that every morning," i huff cynically.

"yes, but this morning is especially good,"

"why is that?"

"the sun looks especially delightful when i am with you," he says to me. my chest swells. apollo means nothing to me. but him? will's god like features turn towards the horizon. his hand tightly grips mine. i smile.

we feel like royalty, up on the hill overlooking the rest of the world.

princes of something ancient and something young. we laugh and chase each other in the morning, through leafy trees and shrubbery. the pillar anchors us here.

i wake up and it is three in the morning. the sounds of new york city stirs below me. i feel disoriented. my apartment is dark, with the lights of the city dimly lighting it. my phone is laying next to me and will had long hung up a few hours ago. i could've sworn that it was all very real. that we were chasing each other under a fig tree, weaving between tall pillars of cool stone. he had an olive laurel in his hair. we were laughing so innocently, but our hands clasped together felt so powerful and endless. we were infinite and immortal. we were like young gods.