"I like you this much" he says pale arms stretched to their limit, fingers extended, gently tickling the air; his face is hardly more than his smile, which he hates but when he smiles I see the sun; it warms me in the cheesiest but most sincere way, I can't get enough; he is the sun and I can't escape his pull, red hair and explosive personality, he is the sun; a week without him is winter, a day in his arms risks a burn.
"I like you this much" he says and this time I don't look for shade
Heliocentrism is the the sun-centered universe theory