Like pollen drifting aimlessly across an open field, Izzy was unable to center himself on one specific disposition. His head had travelled through streams of remorse and pity before finding itself confused in the hands of desire. The need for stimulants, the need for relief, and the blatant need for his angel's assistance left him utterly disoriented.
Splayed across the meadow, Izzy could smell the pollen in the air desperately scouring the fields for a place to rest— just like his bustling head. The sun's effulgent rays burnishing his pallid skin wasn't enough to disrupt his inert position, because beside him, Axl was basking as though the concept of 'tragedy' was a mere illusion. With arms behind his head, and legs sprawled before his lanky figure, Axl's head was dancing through a state of serenity. The sun complimented him in such a way that Izzy was just an unadorned shadow lurking in the other man's limelight. Unlike Axl, his hair didn't capture rays of sunlight and mend them into strands of glistening copper, and unlike Axl, his eyes didn't resemble the maya-blue sky hovering above them.
Instead, his hair was of the dark clouds looming overhead the forest afar, and his eyes were of the moribund grass between them. Izzy didn't acquire the beauty of a pleasant sunshiny day, nor did he hold the semblance of life in it's finest pursuit.
But Axl?
Axl exuded life, breathing it through his body as though he was the source of it all. There was something so celestial about the man. He was a metaphysical higher power, granting Izzy a second chance through benevolence and adulation which could only be warranted through his cherubic being.
And Izzy wanted to be jealous of this authority, but sinking into that soft bed of dying grass with his eyes fixated on the angelic being before him, he could only find pure adoration swelling his heart.
Axl turned his head away from the sky, his prismatic eyes meeting Izzy's before crinkling into a smile. "Do you feel it now?"
Izzy sighs. Axl was keen on the belief that exposing the guitarist to nature will open his mind and clear his head from foreboding thoughts— thoughts only compelling him to drugs, as it was something he had done for himself back in Lafayette. Although, Izzy had yet to tilt his chin to the sky and allow the sun to cauterize his face, because he was too invested in peering at Axl.
"Do I feel..?" He allowed the question to trail off his tongue and dissipate into the wind, perhaps venturing off with the antsy pollen.
Axl bared his teeth as he laughed, and Izzy was vividly perplexed by his amusement. He watched as the ginger only shook his head, raising his arm to the sky and closing his eyes. "Try it," he urged softly.
Izzy didn't try it, although he adjusted his position, watching as the singer welcomed the sun's brilliant shine with such modesty.
"Do you feel it now?" Axl asks, assuming Izzy had obliged.
The guitarist hummed a sound of agreement, yet still murmurs the words, "How does it feel to you?"
Axl's plump pink lips curved into that recognizable smile, his lashes glowing as his nose scrunched up. His arm wavered slightly, the short light hair along his skin glowing like copper as they assimilated the sunlight.
"It feels like I've been granted the greatest gift in the world, the sun's radiant warmth beating down upon me, holding my hand and buzzing through me like.. like a—" Axl paused as a dry laugh escaped his lips. "Like a good high."
Izzy smiles, and in that moment, he found that obscure sensation pivoting through his bones coalescing with the words flooding from Axl's mouth like exquisite poetry. He could feel that warmth, each time he caught a glance of his angel. And he could feel that buzz, each time he perceived just how much Axl meant to him.
