The 'he' is Apollo, of course. I thought the 'they' could be his demigod kid's mothers? That bit is up to you.
I'm sort of proud of this one. ;;;
The sun embodied everything mortals held dear. It was warmth and life. It was the comfort of day. It was passion.
"Passion? Well yeah, but…" they started, but were always too scared to finish.
Scared. That should have pained him. But he was far past the emotional kind of pain at this point.
If he had to, he would end the sentence with "not love".
Passion was the heat of the moment. Passion was light headedness during burning contact. The suffocating breathlessness in the dark of the night. it was scalding. There was nothing gentle about it. Nothing subtle.
Love was perhaps, toned down. Toned down in many ways, but strangely heightened in other. If passion was scarlet, love was pink. The pink of rose petals. The pink of strawberry ice cream. The pink of the sky during the dawn, when the world isn't quite sure if it is day or night. The colour of innocence.
Love was the cozy warm evening shared by those who are destined to be 'we'. The fading light of the sun as it made way for the moon. Always warm, never hot. Love was the comfort when it got to be too much, not the distraction. Distraction was passion.
And what was he?
Love or passion? Red or pink? He would have loved to say he was the perfect mix.
But a mix of pink and red is still dark red.