He watches him every day from the sky, jesting with the nymphs, watching over his pastures, and listens to him playing the pan flute. He is beautiful, and joyful, and significantly less lonely than him, and he can’t get enough of the sight of him. Sometimes he almost forgets to continue his endless journey, nearly scorching the ground and drying the streams.
He must have noticed, for his affection is hard to miss. He caresses the smooth skin of the other god’s back with gentle rays, turning it slightly darker over time. When he gets bolder, he blows a kiss to his hair and turns some strands golden. He thinks the other god likes the attention, too, basking in the light and caressing the golden crops. But the sun must continue its journey and the pastures and flocks need tending, and there is no time for pleasantries.
Then finally once they meet at Olympus, and the god of nature takes the reins of his chariot from his hands, burning himself but not minding it in the slightest, and lays him in the cold evening grass. It is the longest night the world has ever seen.