I’ve spent pretty much every night this summer driving around alone listening to music. I’ve been out socially once or twice and haven’t done anything notably exciting aside working all day then driving all night.
I wrote a clapollo thing because I was FEELING IT
Just short fluff with no set time period
Apollo doesn’t know what to do with himself when he sees the stars in Clay’s eyes instead of the sky, doesn’t know how to handle being able to find every constellation as easily as he’d find them above, doesn’t understand how every summer night, every glittering galaxy, and every shimmering star that shines above them can be reflected in one boy’s eyes.
Every freckle is a galaxy, every birthmark a planet, every smile reflects the sun back at him.
Clay is blinding, shining, he’s more than just a star, he’s every star. Apollo knows all this and more, but can never say it. It’s in his thoughts, his actions, his being. Space is branded onto his soul as much as it’s engraved on Clay’s, because space is Clay.
And when Clay looks at Apollo, he doesn’t see space.
He sees the sun.
He sees everything Apollo has worked for, slaved for. He sees how bright he is in the courtroom, when he talks about law, when he’s with Clay. He sees how easy it would be to get burned by him, but they’ve known each other far too long for that.
(It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, either, Clay thinks to himself one night.)
The sun and the stars- they’re two parts of each other. It’s fitting how close they are. The night can’t thrive without the sun, after all.
Apollo is his sun.
Clay dreams. He dreams of space, of stars, of early morning sunlight and stars shining together, and thinks “One day, I’ll be up there. One day, I’ll be one.”
He says it out loud, and Apollo looks confused for a moment.
“A star.” Clay replies, reaching his hand up as if he could grab one, bring it down to Earth to keep forever. He isn’t expecting it when Apollo laughs.
“You already are.”
“I’m…already a star?” Clay’s confused. To be a star he’d have to be up in space, and clearly he isn’t. Apollo flushes and tries to backtrack.
“Well, I! I just meant-!” He stops when he realizes he’s using the Chords. A small laugh comes from beside him and Apollo almost relaxes.
He wants to say it. He really does. He wants to tell Clay all about the galaxies in his eyes, about the way he shines brighter than any star. He wants to say it, wants to tell his best friend that he doesn’t need the stars in space when he has a set all his own-
Apollo’s voice catches in his throat.
He says nothing, freezing in place as he weighs his options.
He’s going to say it, he decides, because this may be the only chance he gets. He takes a deep breath and turns to Clay, opening his mouth to speak.
The only thing he voices is a half sigh half laugh.
Apollo lies back down next to him, upset that he missed his chance but still happy, in a way. “Tell him in the morning, Justice.” He says to himself, getting comfortable. “You have all the time in the world.” He settles, and turns to Clay one last time.
“You may love space, but you’re the only star for me.”
Okay so since you are the prince/King/God of selfies please share your expertise with us dorks~ thanks ;D
Dork Expertise pt. 1: Oreo’s truly are milks favorite cookie. Stars are your friends and they are really pretty so sometimes if you can safely go out when it’s dark go and watch the stars for a while, maybe wish on some. Cause it’s really nice and calming.
These kids probably feel that way, they just do not recognize the feeling or know what to do with it
Jim Bob is too cheap to buy his own, in one picture of the girls doing this same pose, there was a second strawberry shake pushed to the side, but it showed in the picture. I laughed when I saw that. Let’s pretend to share a shake.
Sonic has happy hour after 8 every night all summer and shakes are half price. Get your own Jim Bob, Michelle needs all the calories she can get as she is getting too skinny.
Like every usual night out for Sara, she spent it in the clubs with people she barely even knew. Men lingered beside her, arms draped around her shoulders and waist, while girls threw down shots with her. This night was no different, sat in a booth with the haze all around her before her glass was empty again. “Permesso,” She excused herself, placing a hand on the shoulder of the man next to her and pushing herself up to stand. “I’m gonna get us more drinks.” She served him a wink, tongue between her teeth before she made her way off to the bar.
just found an ishimi future fic outline i wrote in feb and i feel like i’ve really outdone myself
he goes to europe and he comes in third place for the
tour de france white jersey behind two frenchmen and the japanese press love him and ishigaki watches the broadcast on his television every night that summer and cries himself to sleep