Chapter Text
For three days, Achilles sees no sign around them of the boy.
When he wakes in the morning and goes downstairs ― there's only his father, absently reading the newspaper.
With two chairs occupied, once the food is set, the silent chewing and soft tinkling of silverware are as familiar as ever.
And, when his father stands to leave, instead of the suggestion for Achilles to take the new boy to play in the hills with him, "Have a good day, son."
It's only the usual sentence he receives, with fingers fastly running through his head before Peleus walks away.
There's also no difference when they both come back in the late afternoon, with two chairs occupied, the dinner's quietness goes the same way.
As their routine keeps absently rolling over, his father never says anything about the boy. Like he's forgotten, altogether, they have a new person living with them now.
Like he's subtly suggesting Achilles does the same as well.
The apparent only concession from his father seems to be the renewed presence of Phoenix, Achilles' former tutor.
But even he only appears scarcely, never in the full range of his vision. Sometimes, Achilles sees his back in the garden quietly pacing alone. In others, he sees the older man just before he walks into Peleus' office.
Achilles has to wonder whether he's been missing something.
He doesn't ask.
Also as usual, he thinks.
At the beginning of the fourth day, Achilles discovers he wasn't too far in his assumptions.
He's dazedly moving through the living room, in the direction where he knows breakfast is ready, when Achilles hears yet another hushed conversation he's sure isn't for him.
"The boy is nowhere to be seen," He halts just before getting in the room, where two men have their backs on the entering. Phoenix holds himself standing beside Peleus.
"Hm, again?" His father sighs, putting his newspaper down, "I thought he merely needed some time, but this is getting out of control. I was hoping maybe you could help him to warm up to us."
"Given his situation, it's normal for him to be stressed; This might take more time than we thought at first."
A nonchalant hum,
"Will it? Even so, what are the odds he's scarred for life?" A pause, "Be honest, Phoenix, my friend: what do you think we should do about him?"
For some reason, Achilles can feel in his bones the following silence. He can see Phoenix evaluating his own next words the same way he can see his father's already made-up mind.
Scarred for life.
"In what terms, sir?"
Scarred for life.
"Should we keep him?"
The boy leaves before he can hear the rest.
Achilles stops silently in front of the bush he knows Patroclus has been hiding behind for the past days, the place directly in the landscape of his room's windows.
"Is time for breakfast," He declares to the greenery in front of him.
There's no response.
"My father's been looking for you," He tries again.
This time, it works. The round-shaped vegetation scoffs suddenly,
"Oh, is he?" Achilles knows this unsympathetic tone. He's heard enough of his parents' conversations, "I'm sure he's worried about my well-being."
Oh, he thinks. Scarred for life?
"He isn't." He admits, feeling strangely small, "He's wondering if maybe he should... see another place for you to stay." He finishes, waiting tentatively for the other boy to say something once more.
He doesn't.
"You should come back." He stretches.
"This is none of your business, Pelides." The other boy spits, briskly appearing behind the bush, leaves clinging to his twirly hair, "No part of this has anything to do with you, precisely like you wish. Get out."
The harsh words struck so sudden that Achilles' feet instinctively moved back, crookedly tracing a pattern on the earth before he could hold his body back.
For a moment, he's too shocked to react, but the boy's eyes burn the same way they did four days ago, and they have the same call over and over,
"Maybe I should," He spins back, lead by the wish to retaliate tugging at the base of his throat, "At least then I truly won't have anything to do with someone as snooty as you!"
"That's what I'm saying, isn't it?!" A fast retort, like he was waiting for it, "Go and spare your royal-self from the chore of enduring me."
"Urgh," He spins in frustration, "You're impossible!"
As soon as the wind carries the words out of his mouth, Achilles feels warmth creep up his cheeks once more, his eyes widening as he fights his hands from flying to cover his mouth.
The boy in front of him stills abruptly, tensed like a wave halting in the middle of its crashing. Unnatural, disturbing.
At that moment, Achilles was sure the Patroclus would go for a strike at him.
But, as he was tightening for the upcoming hit, the fire lighting the boy's eyes died suddenly. Achilles watched the small body deflating as well, feverish eyes dulling to unreadability for the first since he arrived,
"Go tell him where I am and leave me alone."
It comes to him at the same pace anger did: he didn't really want to say it; it wasn't his intention to be so mean to the other boy. He looks more attentively at the boy, his still injured mouth and the hard line it's forming now.
Scarred for life.
"Wait, I-" He hurries.
"I know it, alright?" Patroclus responds, resigned past his true feelings, "Why wouldn't I know I'm impossible? Nobody asked for your help, Achilles. Get out."
"I'm sorry," Achilles says, and it's true, "I was mean to you when we first met." Somehow even more true since he heard his father's conversation.
While he started speaking, Patroclus opened his mouth again as if gathering his breath before snapping once more but stopped mid-motion.
For a while, there's only the occasional rustle of the morning wind between them, gentle and fresh.
"It's okay, I don't mind," The other boy sighs, moving to sit and hide behind the bush once more, "And I meant it anyway. You should go and tell your father where I am." A pause, "And tell him to send me away at once."
Achilles wonders if he heard right, but the empty space holds no response. He moves deliberately soundly until he's standing in front of Patroclus once more.
"Why do you say that?" He asks slowly, moving to sit in front of him.
He's not looking at him in particular, but he's not looking away either,
"He's been waiting," Is the response, "To see if someone from my family will ask for my guardianship. But there won't be anyone."
"Why do you think so?" He can't help the frown.
"They think I would be a burden."
It didn't make sense,
"So why do you want to be sent away? If there's no one, you should want to stay here."
A shrug,
"I shouldn't cause trouble," He responds as if this answered all of the rest of the conversation, his eyes lowering to his arms, "If I stay, it will be the same."
Of course, it doesn't.
Achilles opens his mouth to say so, but a loud rumbling sound overruns him. They both look immediately down,
"Are you hungry?" Achilles asks instead, tilting his head to the side.
Then, Patroclus does avoid his look.
"No." He responds, head low as he moves to stand up and walk away.
It lands into him too late: has the boy been eating at all?
"Of course I have," He muffles, still not looking at him, "I know the path to the kitchen, at least. I'm not that much of a half-wit."
Achilles scoffs, offended. He had never told anyone this kind of thing, and he certainly wouldn't do so to that boy, "I never said you were a half-wit. I don't think you are."
Patroclus looks puzzled at him but doesn't say anything, and the blond boy scrunches his eyes once more before swallowing a disgruntled groan.
"Come with me," With a push, he's out of the grass before Patroclus.
The boy blinks, still on the ground. For a moment, he appears to be pondering, and Achilles stays as still as he knows how to, fearing any movement might scare him.
"No, thank you," Patroclus decides at last.
Oh for god's-
"Please," He says before getting control of his mouth once more, "It's already past breakfast, and I'm hungry."
"So... go eat something?" Patroclus responds slowly, as if he doesn't understand the point of this conversation.
"I will. When you come with me."
"No."
What a strange concept, he thinks, scarred for life. What could it mean entirely? The pattern over his mouth would fade away.
He sits on the grass once more, legs crossed and facing the other's direction. But the boy is surprising.
"Then, I'll stay with you until we go together."
Achilles is willing to figure it out.
In the end, between nags, eye rolls and subtle suggestions of him going away, Achilles has Patroclus sitting on his side on the small wooden table in the kitchen.
They're quiet as they chew fruits and bread, but it tastes good.
There's a subtle movement behind the kitchen doors, and he could identify those pair of polished leather shoes anywhere.
Is his father there to take Patroclus away?
Then, Achilles makes sure to give a big smile at Patroclus.
"I love playing that too!" He says to the other, voice close to a yell, startling the boy to an almost jump, "We should do it tomorrow! What do you say, Patroclus?"
Patroclus blinks at him with wide and confused eyes,
"Huh? What are you...?" Following Achilles' eyes, he notices the shadow of Peleus before he can finish, and his eyes grow twice in size.
And Achilles laughs, just a tad reckless as he stretches to put his arm around Patroclus' shoulders, playfully,
"But there's no way painting is cooler than playing music. Come, I'll show you. Have you ever played the Lyre?"
"I haven't." He responds after a long moment.
Achilles doesn't miss his pace,
"I'm sure you'll love it."
Sliding smoothly out of the chair, Achilles moves to the kitchen's door and looks back,
"Well, come on then," He smiles at the confused boy in front of him, "I'll show you the music room."
"You saw him too," Patroclus gasps out as he lets himself get dragged upstairs. He sounds out of breath. Or surprised, Achilles didn't really care for investigating.
He doesn't speak besides it, but he wouldn't have had to. Achilles can feel the question piercing his back anyway.
He grins at the other when they reach the top,
"Do you want to be friends with me?"
The boy seems taken aback, "Huh?"
Not so eloquent anymore, then. Achilles thinks. But he doesn't feel the usual pride coming forth. He finds himself smiling wider instead,
"Hi, my name is Achilles!" He introduces himself the way had people do to him, swaying his hand forward, "It seems we'll be living together for the time being. Do you want to play with me?"
"Look, Achilles, I am sorry for the way I treated you. But you don't have-"
"Oh, did you know? Today is my birthday." Achilles intervenes, reaching for the hand Patroclus didn't offer to him and shaking it, "We won't have a party because I'm sure my father forgot the date. But I am thinking of going into the town and buying a cake later, come with me! Do you bike?"
It takes a moment, but Patroclus eventually speaks, hand reciprocating the shake,
"I do."
He feels the grin on his eyes,
"Let's go together, then! But first, the music room. I can't believe you haven't been there."
When they leave the house, the sun's already high in the sky. Biking through the forest and chirping birds up to the small city, Achilles takes the lead to talk to the boy once more.
"Are you from Phytia?" He asks.
"No, are you?"
"Yes," A pause. Patroclus doesn't seem interested in adding further, "How old are you?"
The distance between trees is more spaced now; they're close to the city.
"12. You're 11 now, right? Odysseus told me you were 10."
Huh, that man again, why did he seem to be everywhere? Also-
"Wait, you're older than me?!" He asks, looking at the boy with shock leaking through his lashes. Patroclus nods, "Why?!"
"Because... I was born first?" The boy responds, sounding as confused as Achilles.
Achilles launches on the reasons this is wrong, and Patroclus, with an incredulous smile, listens to him.
Patroclus is curious, Achilles discovers.
He doesn't ask much at first, but his eyes linger on too many things at once, and Achilles finds himself trying to notice all of them just so he can explain them.
"Oh, there's the library! Do you wanna go check it out?"
"Look, do you see that bridge over there? It connects the other half of Phytia with this side. We have to cross it to get to school, isn't it cool?"
Eventually, Patroclus starts asking his own questions.
"How do I get a library card?"
"Are we too far from the sea?"
It's nice, he decides.
"Not at all! Do you wanna go there?"
When they get there, the place is empty, and the sun is low.
With the wind howling and the older boy's opinion that they shouldn't enter the sea, in the end, Patroclus teaches him to skip stones, and Achilles tries to teach his somersaults.
It doesn't work, but Achilles has his hair tangled with sand and Patroclus' hands are dry with salt. It's fun.
It has been a while since he spent his birthday with somebody, but, in the end of the day, he thinks he wouldn't mind repeating it.
In fact,
"Are you coming with me tomorrow as well?" Achilles asks over his bulky piece of strawberry cake.
The boy looks up from his own plate holding a piece of chocolate cake.
"Come on," He presses, "It'll be fun! And the vacations will be over in no time; we have to enjoy it. We can go to the beach again. But earlier so we can go into the sea. Or the waterfalls! There's some around here as well!"
The curious look is almost intimidating, but Achilles was almost getting used to it.
"Yeah," The boy responds, chewing a bite, "Seems cool."
He grins, opening his mouth to speak again, but suddenly his words are cut.
"Here, have some as well." Patroclus says, slicing a share of his cake and putting on Achilles' plate, "You've been looking at it since we started eating."
Suddenly, his smile is down, and it's his time to look surprised at someone. Achilles feels his cheek heat; he's not used to getting caught out of attention.
But the boy is as calm as ever, and he's never been the one to shy away. He gathers a breath,
"Then, have some of mine too." He responds fastly, messily cutting his piece and mirroring Patroclus' actions.
"Ah, thank you." A smile as he brings a bite to his mouth.
The heat around his face isn't any better, so Achilles moves to shove a piece into his mouth.
"Why is yours better?" He whines.
When they come back to the house, bicycles on the garage, hairs tangled and stomachs full, the sunset is already fading on the sky, and Peleus awaits them by the entrance.
It's only because of the proximity they're holding Achilles can feel Patroclus tensing when he notices his father as well. Other than that, Achilles peeks to his side to see the same neutral face of the first day.
Achilles walks in front of him, greeting his father first.
"Hello boys," Is Peleus' response, and Achilles can read his impatience, "I have been wondering where you two were."
"Father," He says lowly, looking down, "I am sorry I forgot to warn you, but I took Patroclus with me to the city. To celebrate my birthday."
As Achilles hears his father suddenly clearing his throat, he knows he's won. Still looking down, he barely manages to bite his smile.
"I see." It's the most of acknowledgement he's going to get, he knows, "And what did you do?"
His teeth dig harder on his mouth, "We biked to the city, and I showed him around since he's not from here. Then, we bought cake at the bakery."
He sees a pensive look on his father and seizes his chance,
"We're going to the waterfalls tomorrow."
There's a moment of silence, and Achilles can feel even more tension from his side, but he lifts his face to meet his father's gaze,
"Then," Peleus states, calm tone despite curious eyes, "I suppose dinner is out of question for you both today. Go wash and rest."
Like this, he's gone, and, once again, the shocked look is there, directed at him ― Achilles turns to beam at Patroclus.
"Waterfalls it is, then."
When they enter the house, the day's activities suddenly claim its share of their bodies. Both boys walk side by side slowly, dragging their feet heavily on the floor.
They bid their goodbyes tiredly by the stairs and start moving to their respective rooms.
When Achilles climbs to the middle of his path, weary and considering the true need of stairs in one's life, a voice calls him.
"Oh, I forgot," Patroclus says, turning suddenly.
Achilles halts and looks back curiously ― but the boy, through heavy lids and dirty clothes, only grins at him.
"Happy birthday, Achilles."
The smile in return might be disproportional to the small one directed at him, but it's nowhere near to the warmth spreading in his chest.
"I'll see you tomorrow!"
From then, Achilles' father seems to put the idea of sending him away aside, and Patroclus stops disappearing.
Partially, at least.
Patroclus will appear in the morning for breakfast, but only after Achilles goes to his room to call him. They share their night's dream while Patroclus changes his clothes and Achilles lays sprawled on the boys' bed.
"Everything was so cold, and there was a pink cave as well!"
A hum,
"A pink cave? Like meat colour? That seems unsettling. Are you sure you're not hungry?"
"Urgh, Patroclus, you're not listening to me at all! I told you it was crystal pink, not flesh pink. And there was a centaur carrying a bow!"
"Because that's better." The boy is starting to speak more now.
Phoenix soon stops appearing once more because he still can't get a hold of Patroclus during the day. But the reason this time is because he also has no idea where young Pelides is. So, he lets go.
And Achilles has found a friend.
Patroclus, Achilles notices, is fond of the music room. And he won't ask for it when they meet in the morning ― but he is always so relaxed when they sit on the floor after Achilles steals their breakfast from the table.
He looks comfortable when they eat there, surrounded by instruments, when Achilles plays the Lyre afterwards.
"What happened to you?" Achilles asks Patroclus one day.
"You don't know?" Patroclus asked, surprised. Then suspicious, "Truly?"
Achilles nods firmly,
"I truly don't," He asserts, then remembers the man Odysseus and his father, and his cheeks heat. He hurries forward, "Not everything, at least. Oh, but I've heard some things already, so you don't have to. I mean, I don't need to know everything."
"Oh no, it's no problem," Patroclus affirms, eyes widened, "I just assumed you - everyone knew. The news kept buzzing about it like a holiday."
Achilles nods carefully, the only response he regards suitable, and Patroclus eyes him one last time before his voice comes back,
"My father was used to doing dirty business, that much you've heard, right?" Achilles nods again, leaving Patroclus not to lose his pace, "As far as I know, he has always done it. But he got caught, and things got really bad for him since then."
"Yeah," He confesses lowly, feeling like he knew a secret he shouldn't, "I heard it from Odysseus. He talked to my father."
"Hm? Oh, no. I meant before Odysseus," He observes Achilles once more, eyes wide, "You truly don't know."
Another nod,
"I don't," Then, "I don't lie."
Patroclus blinks at him, eyebrows raising high enough to crease his forehead. And still, Achilles noticed with distress ― he couldn't read the expression.
There was this thing with the boy ― he kept his feelings too high on his face.
Patroclus didn't comment as much as, eventually, mirroring the nod and started speaking once more,
"Two years ago, another person found out." Eyes to the floor, "My mother. I don't know how, but she caught him."
Oh, that's new.
"What she did then? Did she take him to the authorities?"
A small smile,
"No, she stole him."
"What?!"
For the first time, Achilles watches his new friend chuckle. It's a small sound, contained, and he can't help his own smile in response,
"She stole him back," Patroclus said with an excited whisper-like voice, body leaning forward. "My mother, I have no idea how, got the access for his bank accounts, all of them, and she took a share of every one of them. She ran away then, and when my father found out, he was so mad."
"What happened? Did he go out for her?" Achilles urges, visualizing an impossible scene with black cars and helicopters.
"He didn't, at first. I think he was too stunned to have any reaction," Grin displaying teeth now, proud, "But later, my mother opened an account in my name and put in all of the money there. And he couldn't do nothing anymore."
"But she ran away," Achilles prompted, remembering the day in the garden.
"Yeah, she vanished." The smile tones down a bit, but his eyes still shine, "He never found her, and I stayed with him. My father was... upset with it."
"To stay with you?" He asks, shock uncontained.
"Yeah," A humourless giggle, then a gentle nudge on his shoulder, "Not all of us are loved like you are, you know? My father never liked me very much, and after that - well, I can't really blame him. But he kept me, the money, around."
There's a tense pause ― Achilles doesn't like it anymore, this story, Patroclus' father. And saying so would be careless beyond repair.
"What?" Patroclus asks, playful smile contrasting a low glint, "Are you disappointed with the lack of action?"
Achilles doesn't want to indulge that look anymore.
"Were you two close?" He thinks of his own relationship with his mother.
The boy shakes his head,
"No." He looks back at him, smile growing back, but sad this time, "She wasn't close to anyone. My father was always saying she was stupid." A sigh, "And now only the gods know what am I going to do with the things my mother took."
Oh, the look remains.
Suddenly, running away from his father's lessons on business doesn't seem that much appealing anymore.
"I can help you!" He decides, "When you grow up, I'll be there to help you with your business."
When the response doesn't come for a long time, Achilles peeks to his side.
He sees this: a distant stare, a mouth so pitifully tugged down he can see the boy's chin wrinkling. And this: a pair of eyebrows raising dangerously close to abandonment. And this: the eyes downing back to his own, seeming damaged and old.
And also this: a small, careless smile,
"Yeah, thank you." A tired voice.
Patroclus is a terrible liar.
"Would you play more?"
He sounds almost hopeful, then.
Achilles doesn't respond before resuming his fingers to the tuned strings.
Patroclus was 12 when his life crumbled.
It had never been too much to begin with, he knows. But, whatever little he had swiped right out his reach.
He remembers his father, the face distorted in rage the first time the police came and went away. Then the absolute madness when they came back, this time, to take him away.
He thinks it started with his mother. She was a kind woman, quiet. And she barely acknowledged him.
His father thought her stupid and tried depriving her of conversations with others, but Patroclus couldn't. And so, Menotious had two stupid people under his care.
Or maybe it had always been just one, only him. Maybe, he would be better left alone. Hasn't he earned it already? After everything, doesn't he deserve to stay alone, in peace?
But apparently no, because now there is this blond boy, offering friendship for no reason. And the gods are never gentle because the boy makes it impossible for him to say no. Eyes as insistent as they were honest, feelings on his sleeve.
And, the utmost horror: kind. The boy and his green eyes meant each word.
As Patroclus took the sympathy the other offered to him, he waited.
It was a matter of time until his life oozes through his fingers once more, and he knew it. Independently of sooner or later, this time, Patroclus swears to be ready for when his doom comes.