If Luca had been the Sun, Giulio would have chosen in every life to be his Icarus - flying too close to his lover, he would have smiled as he fell.

Rome was cold at night, even under the layers of the sweatshirt Luca had placed gently on his shoulders.

‘What do you want to do?’ his friend asked, with his back to him. The scar his bite had left was still visible - just above his collarbone.

Giulio nodded. Without looking, he traced the outlines of their writing from memory - so close that they almost overlapped.

‘Make love, not war,’ Luca murmured. ‘Signed, the dreamer.’

Giulio laughed. "But if you want to do both, at least make sure you do them well. Signed, Nastenka."

Luca's eyes looked so familiar to him, when the boy turned around, that they seemed part of his body. The same colour as the sky as Icarus watched him slip beneath his death grip.

‘You have not changed since last time.’

‘Luca.’

The other looked down at the toes of his shoes and nodded. ‘I just wanted to say that even though you've been away, between us-’

‘Lù-’

‘I missed you, Giù,’ whispered Luca. The boy stood in front of his friend, who was still sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. He held out his hand and the other boy stood up; the step gave him a slight advantage over Luca, who had to crouch to place a clumsy kiss among his blond curls.

‘You knew I would do anything to come back to you and Rome...’

‘Yes, even though for a moment I was afraid you would leave me here.’

Icarus looked at the sky in his best friend's eyes. He could never fall in love with the Sun.