The Sun in His Eyes by Daria Voshchatynska

She could never forget his eyes.

Those bottomless eyes, full of life and will, where a living fire flickered, and an endless ocean slowly flowed into the hot desert sand, calling her with the shimmer of sunset.

They whispered to her, melting her in the dim rays of the setting sun. And she melted. Melted like wax, dripping onto the cooling sand, losing touch with reality, dissolving slowly and sweetly, savouring every second of that mind-burning gaze directed only at her.

Only at her. And she, like a true possessor, accepted those looks, absorbed every emotion—his and hers—and still craved more.

More touch.

At first, you thought you could handle his fire, his fiery temper, that you would just be good friends.

But something went wrong.

Maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe foolishness, but you didn’t even notice when you started admiring his strong silhouette bathed in the bright red of the sunset, shadows dancing across his face, dreaming only of being in his arms—arms as hot as the sun itself—burying your face in his thick, long hair, breathing in the scent of the campfire, which reminded you how cold the desert nights could be.

And you melted again. And again.

As many times as needed, as many times as Gyro would hold you close.

And no cold could freeze you, no night could dim your warmth, not while you were in his arms, not while your heart still beat.

And you got used to it.

Used to the terrifying realization that you couldn’t live without him anymore, that you couldn’t last even a day without his smug, yet warm and familiar smile.

You got used to thinking your feelings were unrequited, and that in the end, you’d be alone.

You’d freeze.

Your waxen heart would stop, and no one would be there to melt it.

And you got scared.

Truly scared… and bold.

Your feelings took over. You let yourself go, gave in to the impulse, and were already ready to shoot yourself in shame and heartbreak—

But then you got an answer.

A blurry, uncertain, but desperately insistent kiss.

Gyro took your face in his hands and kissed you all over—your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your forehead.

He kissed you until the ground disappeared from under your feet, until stars danced in your eyes, until there wasn’t a single breath left in your lungs.

And finally, he pulled away.

Looking at you with those endless eyes, he said:

— You really are an idiot…

You got your answer.

A gift from fate.

Its apology for all the pain, all the trials you endured.

You passed the test—and received the greatest reward of your life.

In that moment, his eyes reflected the endless night sky, scattered with thousands of stars glowing like magic.

And you knew—

You would never forget that image:

The evening fire, the night sky, and a disheveled Gyro sitting in front of you.

You’re a lonely, unwanted, burned-out candle. You’re broken. You broke yourself with your own hands. You dug your own pit — now climb, struggle, fight all you want — you won’t get out.

But then Gyro appeared in your life. Dramatically and unexpectedly, he stepped into your world as if it were meant to be — his gaze shining, his dazzling smile lighting up everything around him.

He became your sun. Your salvation.

The one who truly believed in you, the real you. The one who saw that faint light inside before it had a chance to die out.

He lit you up again. He melted your waxen heart, made you believe, made you fight, made you live — not just exist.

He made you believe that love is real.