Of Moths and Men
There was fire in his smile, passion in his eyes. He was an inferno, blazing so brightly the sun looked like an old flashlight-yellow and flickering (hardly illuminating.) He was a fire, devouring everything in his path.
Ianto couldn't look away. The destruction was so glorious, the crumbling structures around them so tragically lovely. He was a moth to his captain's flame, drawn so close to danger, just like any other moth in the world.
He was addicted to Jack, such a sweet addiction to his touch, his kiss; anything and everything of Jack's he could get his hands on and never let go. His mind ran a thousand words at once-Jack. Jack. Jack. He was addicted and he was never going to quit.
He had always been addicted to danger; he fell for Lisa back when she had a boyfriend who could make him look like he went through a few rounds with a meat tenderizer. Lisa was her own fire, he supposed. The fire of a million gentle candles, smoky and pleasant smelling and oh-so-beautiful. He got too close, and he was burned; the fire caught on his wings before blinking out. He salvaged what he could, hoping that her smoldering ashes could bring back her pleasant heat and light.
Yet when searching to bring back his beautiful Lisa, he came across the brightest light he had ever seen.
Jack was a sun, slowly burning up planets. Eternal, everlasting, immortal…Beautiful. Ianto? Ianto was just a moth, one of many and not the last, impossibly hoping that his fire could reignite Lisa's and Ianto could be happy again. But his fire just burned the ashes of her, leaving him alone to stare at the beautiful-yet-evil, the wonderful monster that took Lisa from him.
Though even horrified, his light was so perfect and so right. He was a blazing inferno, a terrifying hero, and nothing could stop Ianto from falling into his addiction, (this better-than-heroin addiction.) falling straight into the fire.
And then he was burned.
(So perfect, so right, burnt by heat and yet still sorrow filled him because despite all of his efforts, all of his passion, Jack didn't love him too.)
He's a moth, and you know what they say-play with fire and you'll get burned one day.