prolog

So maybe I was Icarus, and she was Apollo, my sun. She, who shone so bright, while I was foolishly mesmerized. My wings were made with wax, yet I'd still soar to reach her. My feathers would melt, my wings would burn- but I'd laugh even if I were scorched, because I fell. My sun would be the death of me.

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Warning; Toxic/Possessive Relationship themed
Jenlisa AU