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Relief.
That is the first thing I feel, when I see him. Mind-numbing, swelling relief.
Relief, mingled with joy.
He followed me. He followed me, here.
I have never felt such crushing happiness in my entire life, I think. I wonder if it will swallow me whole.
He followed me.
A leaf crunches beneath my feet as I shift over the forest floor, and he tenses. A smile unfurls across my face as he looks around cautiously, and then-
I pin him to the ground beneath my knees- careful, don’t hurt him- and place my hands on either side of him and I cannot stop smiling because he’s here with me and I feel like I could sprint the length of an ocean-
“This is the reason you had not arrived yet, then?” The man who I assume to be Chiron steps out from the trees, and I am immediately struck by how massive he is; his shadow falls across the ground, spilling like tar over the earth, and then he is towering over us, a huge block of muscle and brute strength and cannonball arms. He is the one my mother brought me to see; he is the one who I am supposed to learn under, the one meant to teach me to be a soldier. But he is not a teacher yet. He is a man waiting for an answer.
I nod. “Yes, sir. I apologize- I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I am grateful to be your student.” Beneath my knees, Patroclus is shifting, pressing his face into the ground. I gently lower myself off of him, and he scrambles to his feet. His ears are flushed with red, and his chest is heaving, clothes wet and clinging to him from having run so far. Pride swells inside of me. He ran, all this way. He ran to find me. My face almost hurts from smiling; I was worried I would never see him again.
Chiron nods. His sharp, scarred face is impassive as he turns to Patroclus, who seems to curl into himself under attention. “What is your name?”
Patroclus swallows and stumbles a little, unsteady on sore feet. “Patroclus, sir.” His voice is quiet and trembling. He is afraid he is about to be sent back. He has been afraid of being told to leave his entire life, afraid of being told he is not good enough. Seeing him like this- it becomes an effort not to comfort him, and I resist the urge with difficulty, knowing it would only embarrass him in front of Chiron.
The enormous man pauses for a moment, considering. His dark eyes survey Patroclus, whose own gaze flickers to the ground, and the silence presses down on me like a tangible weight. I do not know what I will do if he is sent back. I do not think I could leave him, even for the opportunity to learn under a professional. He’s Patroclus, after all.
My worries are silenced as Chiron finally nods. “Come.”
We begin to walk. My heart is thundering in my chest, I am so happy. Beside me, Patroclus is still shaking a little. I turn to face him and smile, letting him know that I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad you followed me. Assured, he breathes out, and a small grin graces his own lips.
The trees are thick around us. The morning is cut to pieces as it streams in through the leafy green canopy above. All around us is green- there are emerald leaves and blossoming buds and pillows of dew-soaked moss carpeting stones, and the air here is fresh and thick with cool mountain breeze and the scent of flowers. Somewhere in the distance I hear the rushing of a stream. There is the whispering of branches, and there is the buzzing of insects, and there is the gushing of water over stonebed, yet there is a strange silence pressing down upon us. It feels- peaceful. Like this is our own little corner of the world, cut away from other people and the business of living.
It feels liberating.
But best of all is the look on Patroclus’ face. The widening of his eyes, the little exhale between parted lips, the way his breath catches in his throat as he looks around. It makes me want to take his hand. Lace his fingers through my own, rub circles across his knuckles. I am finding that I have the urge to do this a lot.
“I am happy you’re here,” I whisper, just so he knows. The smile he gives me in response makes everything worth it.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
If I thought I was happy in Phthia, it is nothing compared to how I feel now. There is a joy so profound that I feel like I’m choking on it sometimes; I feel like my heart will explode with the intensity of this crazy happiness. I feel it bubbling up inside me, filling me to the brim, until it threatens to gush out of me like liquid sunshine. The days seem bright and endless, an infinite sea of smiles and laughter and Pelion. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming that my mind almost strains itself thinking about it.
I train. Chiron sees to it that I am bent with exhaustion by sunset. He himself does not fight me- older and retired as he is- but he finds ways to push me nonetheless. I run for miles, sprinting across sloped terrain; I am made to lift heavy weights and hit the punching bag until my arms fall off. It is more than him pushing me- I am made to push myself. I have never been challenged in this way before, and soon I feel my body hardening like stone, muscles tightening and shaping under Chiron’s instruction. I feel like I could fight a lion sometimes.
But I do not know if that is because of training or Patroclus.
At first, I was worried he wouldn’t have anything to do. It was something that gnawed at me the first day as we hiked up the mountainside together- that Chiron would have nothing to teach him, that he would get bored passing time while I trained. I imagined that one day I would return from my morning run to find him packing, and he would look up at me and explain that he did not wish to waste his life away with me here. He would sling his bag over his shoulder and walk out of my life forever.
But this could not have been further than the truth. Patroclus quickly found an interest in medicine, and Chiron has been sharing his extensive knowledge of healing herbs and practices with him while I exercise. He is just as busy as I am- studying while I train, familiarizing himself with anatomy and the inner workings of the human body while I familiarize myself with how best to weaken it. He amazes me every day with his vast intelligence. Having assured him that he is more than welcome here, he seems just as happy as I am, and his smiles are countless and so bright they make me dizzy.
In our free time together, we explore the woods. We are young gods, mapping out and claiming our little piece of the world, marking the earth with our footprints and setting the sky ablaze with our joy. We swim in the ravine. We race through the brush. We climb the trees and pluck figs from their branches. We watch the world shift through the seasons, painting with the changing colors and tasting the dipping breeze. The first time I have ever seen snow is while we are on Pelion.
“It’s so soft,” Patroclus had marveled, as he planted his palms down upon the crisp white surface.
It is not just the days. We shoved our cots next to each other in our shared room and stare up through the roof window at night. Pointing out the constellations- God, I had not known there to be so many stars, not in all the universe- and laughing quietly and whispering to one another our favorite parts of the day-
Playing in the stream-
Climbing the rocks by the waterfall-
Hunting for rabbits-
-and it is perfect, so perfect.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
I am noticing things.
Changes. We are changing.
Our bodies are stretching out like rolled clay. I measure myself in the changes I see in Patroclus- the widening of his shoulders, the sudden protrusion of his Adam’s apple, the sharpening of his jawline as his face loses its softness. He is still thin, yes- I have not yet overcome my fear that his wiry limbs will snap in two while we are climbing or play-fighting- but now there is muscle. His chest is broader; his legs are sharply lined; his back flexes while we swim. His hair is longer, too- an untamed mess of walnut curls, bangs that fall into his face and hide his eyes when he dips his head.
My thoughts begin to wander. Sometimes, while we are together, I look at him and into his wide brown eyes and think, Mine. I want you to be mine forever.
It is foolishness, and I am a coward. I am afraid when it comes to him. I stare at his lips, and I think of pressing mine to them, and I think of my mother. I think of what she would do if she found out about us. And it is that thought- what she would do to him, what she would do to separate us- that keeps me at bay.
He still feels mine, though.
I don’t stop wondering what his lips taste like. I don’t stop wondering how his body would feel beneath my own. I don’t stop wondering what would he would look like if I kissed his jawline, his throat, his chest, below-
It is foolishness, but I can’t stop thinking about him.
He is beautiful. I know he does not see himself that way. I didn’t even know a boy could be beautiful. “Handsome” is the word most use. But when it comes to Patroclus, everything about him- from the soft spray of freckles sprinkling his nose to his long lashes to his gentleness- I look at him, and I think, How could you see yourself as anything but lovely?
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The end of the world comes one day.
We are hiking through the woods when it happens. Buds are exploding into huge blossoms all around us as spring settles upon Pelion. Insects are humming. Birds are chattering away in the high shelves of the trees, and I am vaguely reminded of mealtimes in Phthia, of the boys all vying for my attention, cracking jokes or speaking of their athleticism. I hum to myself a little as I walk through the trees, mapping out the area in my mind for future ventures.
To my left is a deep gorge. I approach and see that it is a ravine, carved into the earth out of stone and roots. The edges slope down sharply to hit a base of jagged rocks and a stream of trickling water.
Then there is a heavy rustling somewhere close by. A boar, maybe? A deer? Chiron would be so impressed if I could snare it the way he’d taught us- maybe he’d even let me skip training tomorrow.
From behind me, there is a gasp and a shout.
My heart drops to my stomach; I turn around-
He’s not there. He’s not there. The flat, solid ground upon which he stood seconds ago is now a wedge in the earth that connects itself to the edge of the ravine.
“Patroclus!”
No no no NO-
Not a full second passes and I am hurtling down the ravine, throwing my body down the stone wall and landing with a jolt on a rock bed. A horrible scream threatens to burst up through my chest and crack open the silence, and I so narrowly manage to bite it back as I whirl around, wildly looking for him, and the panic is so terrible that I feel like I am choking, I feel it seeping through my veins like lead-
All I can think of are the sharp rocks. If he landed- if he landed on his head-
“Patroclus!” I cry out hoarsely.
My heart is leaping back up into my throat. I am about to cry his name again- where is he, where is Patroclus- when I turn and there he is, curled up on a rock, trembling as the stream floods up around his crumpled form.
“Achilles,” he whimpers.
I am there in an instant, and my eyes are sweeping over him, wide and searching as I check him for injuries. My hands are dancing uselessly over his body, and I cannot seem to hold them still for the life of me.
“Are you hurt? Are you hurt?!” I manage, and the words pour out of me like water. My chest is heaving with panic and my lungs are tight with fear and his body is shaking- oh God, he’s shaking- and I suddenly notice that his left arm is bent at a sickening angle and the skin is purple and bloody and I am lightheaded and if he is not okay I do not know what I will do- I do not know-
Patroclus nods his head quickly, face screwed up in pain, and my heart is jumping out of my chest. I have never ever in my life felt so terrified. He’s crying, I realize. Another wave of panic hits me like an iron punch to the stomach; I have never seen him cry before.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I croak. I want him to stop crying. I need him to stop crying. The sound of his despair is so crushingly painful that I feel physically ill.
I gently scoop him up in my arms, careful not to touch his injured arm, and I hold him against my chest as I sprint back through the ravine until the ground evens out. I did not see anything wrong with his legs, but I do not want to take any chances. He is not half as fast as me, either, and I need to get him back to Chiron as soon as possible. In my arms, his body is convulsing with tiny, silent sobs, and I squeeze him closer to me and whisper soft things to him as I take off through the trees.
Please, let him be okay- I can’t- I do not know what I will do-
“Shhh,” I rasp. It is all I can manage. My heartbeat is roaring in my ears like a machine.
Chiron can fix him Chiron can fix him Chiron can fix him-
The world around us is a blur of greens and browns as I fly through the trees, feet barely touching the ground. The branches whip my face and snag my clothes, and some of the sharper ones slice small cuts in my skin. I do not care. I barely even notice.
My muscles are burning like they are on fire, and my chest is collapsing. My eyes sting with the pure effort of how hard I am running- each step is like a jolt up through my body, a punch that reverberates up from my heels to my chest. I have never in my life moved this fast before, and I wonder if my heart will give out before I make it back.
Patroclus cries out. I have been run through with a blade, I think. Why else would I hurt this much?
“Sorry,” I gasp. He just nods.
It is agonizing. I am trying so so hard not to hurt him, but I do not know the full extent of his injuries, and some degree of caution must be sacrificed to speed in my race back. God, the journey back has never taken this excruciatingly long.
Patroclus twists in pain, clutching at his swollen arm. I glance down briefly and see that his hands and knees are sliced open. The sight of his blood registers in my brain like an electric shock, and a burst of heat ripples out from the top of my skull down to my feet.
I almost choke on my relief when I finally see Chiron’s cabin. I barely refrain from kicking down the door.
“Chiron!” I shout. “Chiron, come quick!”
The door swings open. Chiron steps out, and his gaze immediately drops to the boy crumpled in my arms, quivering in pain. His eyes widen in recognition.
“Bring him inside,” he orders.
Patroclus is a mess, when I gently lower him into a chair inside. “I don’t- I didn’t mean-” he is gasping, almost sobbing, as he clutches at his arm. The arm itself is hanging loosely from his shoulder, the bone of his forearm nearly opening up the skin. All over his bruised body are cuts and gashes.
I am dizzy. I don’t think it’s from the run. Looking at his face, broken down in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight with the effort not to cry anymore- it does something to me. It’s like- a knife is twisting through my stomach. Like I’m being gutted. Vomit suddenly rises in my throat and my knees want to buckle-
“Achilles, get me a stick,” Chiron instructs me. “A thick one, if you can.”
Eager to get out of the stifling room but scared to leave Patroclus, I freeze.
“Quickly!”
I hop to my feet and race out through the door. I almost don’t feel my body as I spin around in the clearing, scanning the ground.
It’s- it’s just his arm-
So far as I know, it’s just his arm. But I did not get a good look at him- there could be something else- something even worse. The terror I felt when I did not know if he was alive at all, right after he first fell, when all I could think of were those rocks, has not yet left me. I steady myself against a tree, telling myself: he’s okay he’s okay he is okay because he’s Patroclus, he’s Patroclus and he would never ever leave me, not even if the world was ending, and certainly not because of a fall down some stupid ravine.
When I finally feel the ground beneath me steady, I seize the first stick I can find and hurry back inside.
Chiron has moved Patroclus to the floor. He takes the stick from me and sets it between Patroclus’ teeth, and a block of ice slides down into my stomach as I realize what it’s for.
“Achilles, hold him down,” Chiron mutters.
I set my hands on Patroclus’ shoulders. He looks up at me with big, scared eyes. Then he takes my hand.
“Patroclus,” I whisper. His body relaxes a little.
Chiron takes his upper arm delicately. “One-”
“Wait,” I interject, voice strained. I try not to sound panicked for Patroclus’ sake, but I’m sure he catches the way the word cracks as it leaves my mouth. “Don’t bones heal themselves?”
“I’ll put the arm in a sling, yes, but his shoulder is dislocated as well. That I can fix myself.”
Patroclus inhales sharply. I do the same.
“One.”
He’s Patroclus, and he will be okay. He will be fine.
“Two.”
Breathe. He’s going to be fine.
“Three.”
There’s a sickening pop. A wrenched scream. Fingers crushing mine. For a brief moment, a blinding, blood-curdling rage surges up within me, and I am seconds away from punching Chiron in the gut. No, that is not it. I want to murder him. I want to gouge out his eyes. I want to crush his windpipe, rip out his goddamn throat-
But then my hand is released, and Patroclus is easing back down to the floor. He offers a weak smile up at me. “That feels better,” he says, and the world is no longer ending.
That night, as we lie in bed and count the stars, I think about the smile he gave me. The way everything instantly seemed to repair itself as soon as he was okay. That same urge wells up inside me, the same one I always feel, but this time I do not repress it. I lace my fingers through his. A moment passes, and he squeezes my hand.
Mine, I think. You are mine.