there is a beautiful boy -
the tooth peeking out from between his lips when he smiles, face split into two by a large grin,
you fighting the urge to press your fingers to his throat when he laughs, trace lines down his throat to feel the way he speaks,
watch the way his muscles move, all sinew and flesh and you want nothing more than for him to wrap them around you,
the way warmth washes over you in waves, waves pooling in your gut into your fingertips,
the way he clumsily moves his hands to talk to you, and you teach him how to curl his fingers and flick his wrists, if only for an excuse to hold them,
putting your hand above his heart with you dancing along to the beat,
the tapping on his wrists morse code for i love you,
tap tap tap - i love you i love you i love you,
the tapping on your cheek morse code for i love you too.

he takes the sun's hand and reads them like braille—
tells him that they're lonely, touch-starved, been living like this for as long as they can remember.
breathing hurts, the sun says, when every part of you is on fire. when the world rests on your shoulders. when you're the light everyone wishes for.
the sun says, how about you?
he says, what about me?
the sun: you must have a story.
and he inhales, burning in his lungs as he says: i'm here because you're here.
(the sun is no longer lonely after, smiling like they mean it, given a purpose for all that it's worth.)