Archive of Our Own

Eliott stirred gently from sleep, eyes blinking slowly in the rays of sunlight that shone through the hole in the roof of his crumbling temple. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep – weeks, months, years. He sighed and pulled his arm over his face. It didn’t matter. He’d stopped counting time in mortal ways when the last of his villagers left.

There had been a time, long ago, when Eliott had actually felt like the god he supposedly was. He used to look over a small village, which in time grew to be a town. Mortals would come to his temple to worship him, leaving him gifts of wine and fruit and the finest cloth they could find. It hadn’t been an exceptionally large or rich kingdom, but he had loved his village dearly. It meant he had a purpose.

The villagers had loved him too. He wasn’t particularly powerful or memorable. No one was writing poems or songs about him. But he was kind and the people liked to have someone to call upon – and for a long time, that was enough.

But then the war had come and he was helpless to do anything to stop it. He was a god, yes, but a lesser god – forgotten, even then, by the gods of the sky, the sea, the harvest, war. The mortals had come to him, begging for his help to save them from their fiery fate, but Eliott could do nothing. He was a god of no particular importance. He watched as his village burned.

He watched too as the mortals slowly forgot the ways of the gods. He listened as his way of life was transformed into myth, as young children were dared to trek through the overgrown woods to his dilapidated temple to tempt the old angry god who must reside there. He tried once or twice to respond when the children called out. But they took off running down the steep hilly slope before the words had fully left his throat. And he was alone again.

So Eliott stayed in his temple on the top of the hill, waiting for the day when something would change and he would feel like a god again. But it never came. And he realized after a time that he was unsure if he’d ever really felt at peace in his godhood at all. Especially now. These days his immortality felt like a curse. He would reside in this world forever, the monotony drowning him, without a reason to keep trudging on.

That particular morning though, when Eliott awoke to the shining sun and the first cool autumn breeze breaking through the impenetrable summer heat, something felt different. He lay there for a few moments, drinking in the crisp air, letting it fill his chest and pull him out of the haze of sleep that clung to him. He would have stayed there for hours, possibly letting himself be lulled back under, if he hadn’t heard a noise at the entrance to his temple-

Footsteps-

A sound he hadn't heard in years.

So he rose silently and walked to the doorway, peering around one of the remaining marble columns. He couldn't help the thundering feeling of anticipation.

A young man was seated on the steps to his temple, his back facing Eliott, looking out across the hilltop. The wind shook gently through the man’s messy brown hair, scattering it in all directions. He looked young, but still a man, and wore clothing from a time and place Eliott did not recognize.

Eliott approached him quietly, curious and wanting to get a better look. Mortals had always fascinated him, with their hearts bound to time, and he hadn’t seen one in hundreds of years. But, as if he could sense him approaching, the young man turned around quickly as Eliott made his way closer. And as their eyes met Eliott felt himself stumble with the way his breath was expelled from his lungs.

The man was particularly beautiful for a mortal, with a round face, plump lips and eyes as blue as the sky on a clear summer’s day. Eliott had forgotten that sometimes mortals could look like that. As much as he had adored his villagers, few had been fashioned from the same cloth as the man in front of him. 

Eliott felt a small smile pick at the corners of his mouth. A bewildered expression crossed the man’s face and he scrambled to his feet. Eliott knew that although he looked like any other man on the surface, his godliness would be rather evident to a mortal – a kind of unearthly sheen gods carried with them. Even if the man could not place it, Eliott’s presence would command respect and reverence. Eliott normally hated it – mortals were always scared off before he had the chance to know them.

Eliott waited for the man to scurry away, to frantically pick up his belongings and run to the safety of his known world. There was a time years before where most men had met a god in the brief blink of their lives, but Eliott knew those times had long since passed. 

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, an uneasy silence settling over them. But the man did not run. Instead, Eliott saw a fire spark in his eyes and a soft smile of recognition grace his face. Perhaps most men had forgotten the gods existed once, existed still. But Eliott knew with that look that this man had not.

“Is this your temple?” the man asked finally, his voice cutting sweetly through the air. “There were stories, of course, but- well, I didn’t think-" He paused, his eyes still on Eliott. "I didn’t realize it was still in use.”

Eliott chuckled lightly, at first, but then noticed the apprehension that had begun to settle on the man’s face. He understood – it was much easier to approach something you had never encountered before with fear. Especially if the only stories you heard of the gods involved wrath and vengeance. 

“It is my temple, yes, but you’re right, it hasn’t really been used for years.”

The man peered at Eliott, and Eliott wondered if the man knew how his skin glowed in the sun. He was silent for a moment, looking at Eliott with a renewed sense of curiosity, but diminished still by a fear of the power that could be lurking under the surface.

“So you’re a god then?”

Eliott thought for a moment, but didn't see any sense in lying. The man would stay or he would go. The truth they both knew spoken outloud wouldn't change that.

“Well, yes, if you want to put it simply.” The man looked at him like he didn’t quite trust his eyes or his ears for that matter. Eliott understood – mortals these days did not know their gods as well as mortals once did. Eliott half expected the man to challenge him on it, ask Eliott to prove his divinity or simply not believe him. Instead the man simply nodded.

“Thought you might be. You look like it,” the man said, blushing as he realized what he was saying. He stammered on, “I just mean you’re- well, look at you, you know. You look like that and well, my mother always said they had a glow.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Now I know what she meant.”

Eliott couldn't help but smile.

“Did your mother spend a lot of time with gods?” Eliott asked.

“No.” The man smiled slightly. “She just liked the stories. She used to tell them to me all the time when I was younger.”

“And now?”

“She died a few years ago.”

Eliott grimaced. In all these years he had almost forgotten how often mortals had to face the thing that made them something he was not. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s been a long time.”

The man’s cheeks were still flaming red, and Eliott admired the way the flush suited him, bringing all his other features into sharper relief. Eliott was lost in this thought, his eyes roaming generously over the man when he spoke again.

“I’ve never met a god before either,” he said. “I don’t know what to do in these situations. Am I supposed to make an offering or perform some kind of worship?” The man desperately rummaged around in his bag for a moment. “Here. I have a few figs if you want them.”

Eliott shook his head. It had been so long since he'd had an offering of any kind and it felt wrong to take like this from this stranger. Not from him. Not after all this time.

“It’s okay, it’s really alright," he said. And then after a moment, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man flinched slightly, his face remained tense. “But you could.”

Eliott shook his head again. “No, I don’t think so," he said truthfully.

The man look at him with wide eyes.

“But you’re a god.”

“Not one with any useful power I’m afraid. I could just as much harm you as any other man with a knife. And even then, I’m a bit out of practice.”

The man smiled then, his shoulders relaxing and tilted his head. “Don’t you worry about telling me that you have no defenses?”

“I’m immortal." Eliott shrugged. "There isn’t much you could do to me. Physically, at least.”

The man lifted his eyebrow and Eliott felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He looked away. They were silent for a moment, the cool breeze picking up again, blowing between them.

“So what kind of god are you then?”

“I used to be a patron god of a village. But it’s gone now.”

“And now?”

Eliott paused, unsure. It had always been embarrassing having to tell other gods what lot he’d been dealt. It was so insignificant that he had been one of the first to go from the mortals’ minds when they forgot. He wondered what the man in front of him would think.

“I’m the god of stolen time,” Eliott said. “The last bit of summer heat that sweeps in when you think autumn is here, the flower that pushes its way through the snowy ground, whispers in the dark, a brief reprieve from an illness. Confounding fate if you will.”

The man smiled, softly, and Eliott thought he would ask him to elaborate. But he only turned and sat down heavily on the marble steps. He didn’t say anything but Eliott took it as an invitation to join him there. And in any case, it had been so long since he’d had company.

Eliott walked over and delicately folded himself to sit next to the man. He reached for a fig. 

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“People call me Eliott.”

“Eliott?” The man laughed. “That’s not really a godly name”.

“No,” Eliott agreed. “I forgot my god-name a long time ago. Eliott was written in an inscription in a book someone left at the temple for me once. It was a note to a lover I think. Sweet. I took it as my own when my world fell away.”

The man didn’t respond, only turned his head to look at the fig in his hands. Eliott wondered if the man knew how perfectly the light shone on his face, how his long eyelashes glittered in the sun. He felt a longing awaken deep within him – a feeling he had never allowed himself to notice before.

“And what are you called?” Eliott asked.

“Lucas.”

And Eliott knew that he had never heard a more beautiful name in all his time walking among mortals. Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.

Lucas came to his temple often then over the next year, bringing news of a city just beyond the hills. There was an easy companionship between the two of them and between his visits Eliott often found himself simply waiting for Lucas’ return. But gods, in their immortality, are born only to wait.

In the time between Lucas' visits, Eliott waited to see what stories he would tell. He waited to see how long Lucas could stay. He waited for Lucas to open his mouth wide and laugh with a force that sent Eliott reeling. He waited for the sun to dance off Lucas’ hair and cheeks and illuminate him. And he waited for some indication that he wasn’t alone in the irregularity of his heartbeats every time Lucas dared to meet his gaze. 

And then Lucas would come and the waiting would cease for an afternoon, only to start up again when he left as evening fell.

Lucas was interested in Eliott’s stories - about his life before, about the time that had passed. To Eliott, it had only been a blink since his village and the height of the gods. But, from what Lucas had told him, it had been hundreds of years.

In turn, Eliott wanted to hear everything about mortal life now. Lucas explained that the world had gotten bigger, there were more people now, more places to explore. He talked wistfully of the far off lands his father had gone to on his trips and how he hoped he could see them one day too. Eliott, easily persuaded by Lucas’ voice, agreed.

Lucas turned to him then, asking why, in all the years he had been at the top of the hill, he had never managed to venture elsewhere. The question amused him.

“All I’m saying is that you’re a god with infinite time and at least some amount of power.” Eliott rolled his eyes at that. “Why not see the world? Meet more people?”

Eliott hid a smile. Lucas had a way of seeing through him, through his power and his godly sheen and straight to his core. No mortal had ever done that before.

“I don’t think my power works anymore,” Eliott said. “I haven’t used it in a very long time.”

Lucas looked at him, perplexed. “What do you mean, your power? Is that something gods can lose?”

“I don’t know," Eliott admitted. "I used to be able to shape time a little here and there, looking over the stolen moments. But I haven’t felt it in a long time. What use is power like mine in a world like this?”

“You don’t need to be useful all the time you know,” Lucas said quietly. He paused and looked at Eliott. “For what it's worth, I like your power. You make the world more beautiful.”

Eliott sat, dumbfounded, as he tried to figure out how to respond. Lucas must have noticed Eliott’s bewilderment because he blushed, as he often did when he was around Eliott, and turned away. “You never answered my question. Why do you stay here? Why stay here when you could go anywhere?”

In truth it was a good question, one Eliott realized he had been avoiding. He stayed and he stayed, like something would finally be change. But it didn't. At least it hadn't.

“I’m waiting,” he replied finally.

“For what?”

Eliott just shook his head. "I don't know."

In truth, Eliott was scared. Scared that in the centuries the world had changed too much. That he would feel even more alone out in the world than when he sat at the top of the hill in his crumbling marble haven. At least here he knew the loneliness that lingered. At least here he had Lucas. Out there, perhaps even among the mortals Lucas told him walked almost every patch of earth, he would still feel alone. But that loneliness would be foreign, with no sense of comfort. That was a pain he hadn’t yet taught himself to handle. One he wasn't sure he could bear.

“Why do you think I stay here?” Eliott turned away from Lucas as he spoke, looking out at the golden light that was just beginning to color the shadows on the horizon.

“Because here you feel safe. It’s a refuge.” 

Lucas said those words as though they didn’t pierce directly into Eliott’s heart. There was silence, fleetingly, as the mortal looked at the cowardly god on the hill but then Lucas turned back to the rock he was turning over in his fingers and mercifully changed the subject. Eliott wasn’t listening. An ocean was pounding in his ears and a fire was rising in his heart and he thought only of the way the loneliness ebbed slowly away whenever Lucas was near him.

“Why don’t I at least show you the forest?” Lucas asked, breaking Eliott out of his trance. “It’s not too much off your hilltop, don’t worry, but it’s a start.”

Unable to say no to him, Eliott nodded and felt his cheeks flush when Lucas took him by the hand and pulled him away from his temple.

They walked across the grassy hilltop toward the trees Lucas always emerged from. The long, warm rays of sun brightened the path in front of them and a gentle breeze took the edge off the thick summer heat that coated the air. 

“Come on.” Lucas gestured at the lush thicket in front of them. “I promise I won’t get you lost.”

Lucas walked slowly next to Eliott, pointing out this tree that was good for a fire, or that flower that could be used for medicine or that weed that was good to eat. As he pointed and talked, Lucas’ face shone with excitement at all the ways that things could be used and made into something else. At the way he could, as much as any mortal might, shape the world to aide him. 

As they walked through the trees and the brush, Eliott watched Lucas unfold in front of him, showing Eliott a part of himself that had previously been hidden. A wild passion had unleashed itself and Eliott smiled knowing it was the forest, and perhaps a bit of him as well, that had unearthed it.

They had been walking this way for a while now – Lucas passionately explaining all the life in their path and Eliott watching him, nodding and speaking when appropriate to encourage Lucas on. Eliott loved that Lucas knew all that he did and loved even more that Lucas was willing to share it with him. Eliott loved the way Lucas’ passion and emotion stood out on his face, refusing to be hidden away. He loved how Lucas’ eyes shone and flashed with his mood, his brow furrowing in frustration or confusion, his teeth showing as he laughed. They walked close together, Lucas almost whispering in Eliott’s ear, trying not to disturb the wildlife. As Eliott felt Lucas’ breath against his ear and his neck, he shivered and when their knuckles brushed gently, Eliott felt like the path of Lucas’ skin had been seared onto his hand. With each passing moment, as they made their way deeper into the forest, Eliott began to realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t just love all those things about Lucas. Maybe he was in love.

The thought floated into his head like it was carried in by the summer wind. Gentle and pleasant, the thought of being in love with Lucas felt like it had always been there in his mind. It felt like he’d never known a time when he didn’t love Lucas. It didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn’t feel like he was suffocating as he looked at Lucas. But something changed all the same then - in a moment - when Eliott allowed himself to face his love head on. Lucas felt like his anchor to the world.

His heart skipped a beat at the realization. It wouldn’t be the first time a god had fallen in love with an earthly being. Eliott knew the stories of the fractured and fleeting romances between gods and mortals. But it had never happened to him. In all his centuries of living among them, he’d never actually fallen for one.

Sure, many a mortal had shown up at his door declaring their everlasting love, but Eliott had always managed to convince them that there were better alternatives (or in the particularly bad cases, wait them out). And there was a reason. Eliott had always been cautious and careful not to give his heart over to someone who could break it so easily. He knew the stories, yes, but he also knew their endings. None of them happy – especially not for a god as minor as him. The mortals almost always met their end more quickly than if they’d never known the god at all. Had Hyacinth, loved by Apollo, not perished by the strike of Apollo’s own discus? A god such as Apollo mourned quickly and moved on. But, as Eliott often thought, he was not such a god. He did not think he could bare to see the light leave his lover’s eyes.

Gods may not die, but immortality is not immune from pain. 

Lucas’ voice pierced through the thickening fog of panic in Eliott’s brain.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” He shuffled awkwardly from one foot to another. “You’re a god. You have no use for medicine or food.”

Eliott blinked, swallowing his panic, and his love, and hiding it neatly behind the careful facade he had spent centuries constructing. He could never let Lucas know.

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said finally. “I may have no use for it, but I like to hear it.”

Lucas’ gaze had dropped to the ground but Eliott could see a smile pick at the corners of his mouth at Eliott’s words. “Are you sure? It’s foolish, I know, but I think it’s interesting. My father always wished I took more interest in- well, not this.”

At the mention of his father, a grimace passed briefly over Lucas’ face. The light in Lucas’ eyes had also begun to fade. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but Eliott did. 

“If you care for it, then it's not foolish,” Eliott said, wishing for the light to return. For Lucas to feel the passion boiling under his skin again. “And whatever your father might say, it’s not his life. It’s yours. You should do what you want, what makes you happy. I’ve watched too many mortals waste the time they have because they’re afraid.”

But the minute the words left his mouth, Eliott wished he hadn’t said them. Because when Lucas looked up to meet his eyes, the light was back – but this time it was a raging fire. Lucas’ gaze was blazing and although Eliott knew he should take a step back, end it before it began, he couldn't look away. It had been seconds since he’d promised himself he’d never tell Lucas how he felt. But as each moment passed with Lucas looking at him like that, Eliott’s resolve began to crumble.

Lucas took a tentative step towards him. He was never far from Eliott, but there was something about his godhood that generally kept mortals at a respectable distance. Lucas stepped into that circle and looked at Eliott, daring him to make a move.

Lucas let out a shaky breath and took another step into Eliott’s space. “I’m not afraid.”

Not afraid.

It was almost enough. Eliott almost swept Lucas up right there, almost grabbed his face and kissed him until neither of them could breathe, but he forced himself to be calm and gentle, remembering that mortals often fear gods’ passions.

“No?” Eliott breathed out and he leant down towards Lucas’ upturned face, his lips slightly parted, his face bright.

He glanced down at Lucas' lips and then back up again, his breath coming faster than it had before. The distance between them was closing achingly slowly, but the anticipation was sweet and both of them seemed hesitant to make the first move. But Eliott should have known that the Fates would never be so kind to him. 

A loud voice bellowed through the forest, seemingly from the well-worn path that Eliott and Lucas had long strayed from.

“Lucas!” It called out, breaking the fragile thread linking Eliott and Lucas and causing both of them to jump and turn towards it. “Lucas! It’s our father. You need to come now!”

Lucas’ face paled. 

“It’s my brother,” he said, apology crossing his features. “I have to go. Can you find your way back on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” Eliott said. “I’m a god after all. Go.”

Lucas turned and ran quickly and deftly through the thicket, leaving Eliott in the last of the golden light as night threatened to begin her reign.

It had been a month since the forest. Since Eliott had felt Lucas’ breath on his face, and thought that maybe something would happen. But the interruption had been a blessing and Eliott had taken the time apart to lock his feelings away more securely, promising himself that he wouldn’t get into that situation again. They hadn’t spoken about that moment since – both pretending they hadn’t noticed the longing in each other’s eyes.

Lucas had arrived on Eliott’s hilltop that afternoon with a huff and tear-stained cheeks. It had been like that a lot in the past few weeks. Lucas and his father had never seen eye to eye, but these days their arguments seemed worse, almost always ending in Lucas showing up at Eliott’s temple. Eliott selfishly liked how often he was seeing Lucas these days, but every time he saw Lucas’ pained face he wished he had the power to take it away.

Normally, Lucas arrived in a hurricane of rage, pacing back and forth as he ranted about his father’s failings. But on this day he was quiet, sitting down on the cool grass next to the temple. Eliott leaned lazily against a pillar as the hot summer sun beat down steadily on them. All around the air shimmered, like the earth was waiting to catch into flames. The bees scurried between flowers, the hummingbirds flitted to find more nectar. The world was alive in the languid way that only came in the midst of long, hot days.

Eliott turned to look at Lucas, but found him staring off across the field, his blue eyes searching out a scene that Eliott could not see. He didn’t speak – he knew Lucas would share when he was ready. 

“My brother is getting married,” Lucas said suddenly. 

Eliott started at the loudness of his voice. “Oh,” he said. “That’s good, right?"

Lucas face twisted slightly but he said nothing, looking down at his lap. Eliott kept his eyes on him, the whispers of one of the last of the summer days blowing over him. When Lucas spoke again, Eliott almost missed it.

“My father keeps asking when...well when I’ll do the same,” he said quietly, his voice strained. 

“Oh,” Eliott said again.

“I’ve avoided it until now, but eventually I won’t be able to. Eventually my family will hold me to my duty.”

Eliott felt a sharp pain in his chest, realizing what Lucas meant. He tried to imagine the man before him with a wife, a family, a life he was no longer privy to. “Is that what you want?”

Lucas was silent for a long time. “No,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve tried to think of ways to avoid it but… well, I hadn’t considered most of them. Except for one. And even then, I’ve scarcely allowed myself to...to hope–”

The words died in his mouth as his courage gave out, but he turned back to Eliott and met his gaze with a fierceness that Eliott had never seen before, pleading for Eliott to speak, to understand.

Lucas, for the past month, had been somewhat restrained in their encounters, which Eliott had taken as regret of that evening in the forest, a desire for distance. But looking at Lucas’ face now, Eliott realized how wrong he’d been. That restraint had been Lucas’ way of protecting himself, not from Eliott’s divinity, but from the chance of a broken heart.

“Lucas,” Eliott said gently, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” Lucas cried out, desperation clinging to every word. He stood, facing Eliott. “I want to stay here. I want to be with you.”

Eliott’s lips parted in gentle surprise. He had suspected, but having the words out in the open felt different. Lucas wanted to be with him. 

Eliott wanted nothing more at that moment than to reach out, grab Lucas’ face, bring his lips to his own, and never let Lucas go. He arms moved, just slightly and his face twitched with the beginnings of a smile. But then an image of Lucas’ gray and breaking body flashed in his mind and he knew he could never taste the fruit and then be willing to let it go. It would destroy him – and in his immortality, he would have to make a home in his shell.

“You can’t stay here.” Eliott forced himself to speak, his tone cool and even. The chill in his voice made even himself shudder.

Lucas’ shoulders crumpled but still he took a hesitant step forward. “Why not? I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. This is all I want. There is nothing left for me down there. You’re the only thing I care about in this world.”

Eliott braced himself against Lucas’ shining eyes, against the warmth of his smile, against the ache in his own chest. When he spoke, the words fell sharply through the air. “I’m sorry if I made you think this was something more than it was. I was lonely, and you were someone to talk to. I may have gotten carried away.”

“You can’t mean that–”

“I do.”

“But what about our talks? The forest? Everything?” Lucas's voice faltered. 

“You forget that I am a god and you are a mortal,” Eliott said coldly. “It is in my nature to play puppeteer.”

Lucas looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He opened his mouth to speak but maybe Eliott was better at putting on a mask than he thought because with one glance at Eliott’s steely gaze he fell silent. Lucas stared at Eliott for a moment, tears welling in his eyes before he finally looked to the ground. He took a shaky breath and lifted his bag to his shoulder.

“Then I will go,” was all Lucas said before he was gone down the hill that had brought him to Eliott so many times before.

And although Eliott had tried to keep his heart locked in its steel cage to save it from shattering, a pain gripped his chest unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he fell, in tears, to the ground.

Lucas did not return. Many seasons passed and Eliott was back to waiting, regretting the words that had come from him as soon as he spoke them. But his reasons for doing so were important to both Lucas and himself so he never attempted to change them.

He was free now to travel, to go and explore the world that had been created since he had last known it. He could live among the mortals, move as he pleased. But there was something tying him to that grassy hilltop. Something he wouldn’t allow himself to name but he always knew was there.

Lucas.

Since Lucas had left, since Eliott had sent him away, the hilltop always felt cold. Even in the middle of summer, Eliott would feel himself hiding in the shadows in the corner of his temple, pulling his legs and arms to his chest, the chill seeping to his bones.

Fall was approaching and he knew the real cold would be close behind it. It was his fifth harvest since the last time he saw Lucas. He had never been particularly good at counting mortal years before, but there was something about Lucas’ absence that made every season sharper and more memorable. Eliott had felt the days fall away with sharp clarity.

Eliott was sitting, as he always did these days, in the window frame that faced the path to the city. The path Lucas had worn smooth in his years of visits to Eliott, though the weeds and grasses had mostly covered it up since. He was soaking up the unseasonably warm day for autumn, the last drops of summer that had made a reappearance.

It was something, he’d admit, he orchestrated himself, pulling at the time that had hidden itself away.

The thought of bracing himself for another winter without Lucas had been overpowering and so Eliott had tried what he swore he wouldn't again. HIs power. He hadn’t tried it since he woke up, afraid that it had melted away in his sleep. But it had been a silly worry. What use was being a god if you couldn’t use your power to bend the world to your will? 

He closed his eyes to the autumn-tinged breeze that lingered over his face, drinking in the sun and the smell of a world that was ready for death and rebirth. In front of him several branches cracked as they broke. 

Eliott’s eyes sprang open and he swung himself down from the window ledge to hide behind his temple’s walls, peering over the edge to determine what had made the noise. The sound had been loud, but it could have easily been a wild animal, albeit a larger one than Eliott had ever seen around (larger animals tended to sense divinity and stay away). He was about to brush off the noise as a particularly energetic rabbit when there was a sound of more branches breaking and a loud “Fuck!”

Eliott’s heart leapt into his throat. He would know that voice anywhere. Sure enough a few moments later Lucas appeared at the edge of the hill. It took everything in Eliott not to run to him.

But that didn’t stop his heart from beating wildly, or the butterflies in his stomach reawakening. In that moment he knew he had just been waiting again, for five years, pleading and hoping for him to come to him again. 

From far away Lucas looked the same. The same wild brown hair, the same piercing blue eyes. Even in the distance, Eliott could make out their color. But as he came closer, Eliott noticed the marks five years had etched into him.

Lucas’ face was more worn and tired. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles and down the side of his left cheek, a small scar stood out, pink and angry. His jaw was set so tight that his mouth barely moved. Only his eyes, blue and clear, had been spared the ravages of time.

Eliott almost stopped breathing. Seeing the scar, Eliott felt rage rise in him as he thought about who hurt him. But Eliott couldn’t do anything anyway. And, he remembered with a sharp pang in his heart, he had hurt Lucas too.

Lucas made his way to the steps in front of Eliott’s temple. It took him longer than it had five years ago, his movements stiff and fatigued. Lucas stood there for a moment peering into the blackness where Eliott was hiding.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not here,” Lucas shouted so loudly Eliott jumped. “I know this,” he gestured around himself wildly, “this last bit of summer, is you. You told me it was. God of stolen time or whatever.” The words dripped off Lucas’ voice like poison. 

He stood quiet for a moment and by the time he spoke again his words had lost their venom. It was the voice of a broken man. “I’ve come all this way and now you won’t even come out to see me?"

That was as much as Eliott could take. He felt the pain in Lucas’ voice, a deep chord running through every word. 

“I’m here,” Eliott said softly. He emerged from the recesses of his temple.

Lucas looked at him, drinking in the god that stood before him, searching for something that was different than he remembered. But Eliott knew nothing had changed – at least what Lucas could see.

“You made it summer again,” Lucas said weakly. 

“Only for the day.”

“But it was you. I thought you couldn’t do it anymore.”

Eliott knitted his eyebrows together, confused as to what Lucas meant. But then he remembered their conversation years ago.

“It turns out it still works.”

“It still works,” Lucas repeated, a mixture of sadness and anger dancing on his face. “I thought it had been because I'm mortal, but... it was just me.”

“What was you?” Eliott's brow furrowed. But Lucas’ solemn expression made Eliott realize. Lucas thought that if Eliott still had his power, he could have done something to change their situation those five years before. That because Eliott didn’t, it meant Eliott had chosen to turn away from him. But Eliott didn’t know how to explain to Lucas that the things he was seeking were far beyond what Eliott had ever been able to accomplish – beyond what his powers had been meant for. He was insignificant, a god of no particular importance or power. He always had been.

Eliott wished that Lucas knew how badly he wanted to be able to do the things that Lucas was hinting at, change the way their story had to play out.

“It wasn’t you,” Eliott said, unable to lie to Lucas again.

Lucas walked towards him then, slowly but deliberately until he was close enough for Eliott to feel his breath. It brought Eliott back to the day in the forest.

“Why did you send me away?” Lucas asked, his voice still quiet.

“I had to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because,” Eliott said, as he stepped back from Lucas and stumbled. “Because this can’t happen. There is no way in which this ends well. And I don’t want to face the pain that comes with that. I couldn’t…”

Something changed in Lucas’ face at that, contorting it as he let out a singular laugh.

“You didn’t want to face the pain?” Lucas said. “Well I still had to.”

Eliott looked at the scar on Lucas’ cheek. How Eliott wanted to reach out and smooth his thumb over it and bring Lucas close to his chest. 

“You wanted to spare yourself?” Lucas breathed. “Well what about me? I tried everything. I drank, I smoked, I gambled, fuck I ran away to the ends of the world just to try and make my heart feel the way it did when I was here with you.”

Eliott stared at him, feeling the heart he’d forgotten he had begin to beat against his chest.

“Your scar?” Eliott dared to ask, knowing that he didn’t deserve an answer.

“Some overly enthusiastic robbers on the road,” Lucas said. “They didn’t like when I fought back.”

“You could have died,” Eliott said, panicking at the thought.

“It felt like I already did,” Lucas said. “And running away was the only way to keep my father from marrying me off. That sounded worse at the time.”

Lucas looked up at Eliott again, and Eliott felt like Lucas could read every thought running through his mind. 

“Somehow though, through all of it, you were the only thing I could think about.” Lucas’ eyes flashed as he stared at Eliott, piercing him with his gaze. “I thought that if you had your power, you could do something. And then I felt the summer come back today and I hoped...I don’t know, I hoped that something had changed.”

Eliott looked back and before he knew what he was doing he had pulled Lucas to his chest, wrapping his arms around Lucas’ neck and stroking his hair as Lucas began to cry. 

“I just want to stay with you,” Lucas said. “Please.”

“But what about...” Eliott couldn't bring himself to say it, his words whispered into Lucas’ hair. “You’re a mortal.”

Lucas pulled back slightly, his eyes red with tears, but his voice steady and calm. 

“And aren’t you the god of stolen time?” he whispered. “Steal some time for me.”

Something broke then, a thread snapping in an elaborate work that had been holding onto Eliott for all those years and he found that he didn't care anymore. He didn’t care that Lucas might only be a fraction of his story, because it would still be the happiest he had been in all of his long life. He didn’t care that he would probably end up in pain or that the world wasn’t built for mortals and gods to share it. He didn’t care about the unspoken rules that had governed every action he had taken his entire life. The only thing he cared about was Lucas. Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.

He grabbed the sides of Lucas’ face and pulled him in, their lips crashing against each other with a force many years in the making. Lucas let out a surprised groan, quickly reciprocating, clutching at Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer, closer, closer. They swayed on the spot, hungrily pressing into one another, their kisses messy and desperate, as they tried to make up for the years they lost.

Eliott wrapped his arms around Lucas’ neck and Lucas ran his hand up Eliott’s back, sending shivers through Eliott’s body and clouding his mind. Their kisses were a mess of lips and teeth as smiles stretched across both their faces and all Eliott could think is this, him, is all I need.

They broke apart for a moment, breathing heavily, but Eliott didn’t let Lucas go far, still clutching his face and leaning their foreheads together. Lucas smiled wide, leaning in for another kiss, his arms tightening even more around Eliott’s waist.

“Wait,” Eliott said. “Wait, wait. I can’t do what you’re asking. I can’t make you immortal.” Eliott may not have cared about the rules anymore, but he knew gods who did and that was one they’d never let him break, no matter how good his reason.

Lucas’ face fell slightly, but he nodded. “I didn’t think so, but that’s okay. I want to stay with you anyway. I want to spend my life with you, even if you can’t spend your life with me.”

Lucas leaned in for another kiss, but as Lucas’ words echoed in his ear, Eliott realized there might be another way. The gods would never let him bring someone into their midst, but would they notice if one of them left the dieties behind? Especially one of no particular importance. Eliott had always focused on stealing time, on finding it, guarding it, but he’d never thought about giving it up, setting it free. He doubted the gods would miss him. But would the world take the time he had to offer?

He gazed into Lucas’ eyes and thought about the future they could have together where they both grew old. Lines appearing on both their faces, visiting distant places together, their children running around being taught in the old ways and the new, and eventually the journey they could both make to the land of the souls, together. There they could be together for eternity too, but without the restless weight Eliott’s immortality had always brought him. No longer would he watch the world change and move on without him. He would change with it. And Lucas would be by his side – and that would be worth it. 

Eliott brought Lucas’ lips to his again, but gently this time. Their lips moved against each other in a slow dance, both feeling and holding each other as they trembled. Lucas tasted sweet and Eliott thought about touching him and tasting him in his new definition of eternity as let his power explode into the world. 

The wind picked up around them like the beginnings of a storm, but neither Lucas or Eliott moved, too lost in each other. Eliott focused on Lucas in front of him, letting Lucas anchor him to the world, holding on to the love that made him mortal as he let his divinity go. Take it, he thought as he dealt out the time the world had given him. Use it and make the world a little more beautiful. Eliott could feel it coursing out of his veins and he couldn’t quite believe that it was working, but he also knew it would have never worked before Lucas. He needed something that tethered him to the mortal, the person he wanted to be – otherwise the world would tear him apart.

Finally, Eliott feels a sharp weight leave him and he stumbles back, breaking their kiss. Lucas reaches for him to steady him, looking into his eyes.

He jumps back suddenly, peering at Eliott in confusion.

“You look different.” It isn’t a question. Lucas tilts his head to the side, his eyes darting across Eliott trying to place what has changed. “What did you do?”

A smile breaks across Eliott’s face as he begins to feel the world drag on his mortal body, confirmation that he's managed it. But Lucas has noticed how he’s lost his godly sheen and Eliott nearly panics, mortal insecurities flooding him in ways they had never approached him before. What if Lucas doesn’t want him now that he isn’t a god? What if plain, mortal, Eliott isn’t enough?

He stares shyly at the ground, unaccustomed to feeling powerless. “I gave it up.”

“You gave what up?” Lucas walks slowly back to Eliott and reaches for his hand. 

“I don’t want to be a god if it means losing you,” Eliott says softly and when he looks up to meet Lucas’ eyes, he knows Lucas understands. 

“You gave up being a god...for me?” Lucas says, his voice barely above a whisper, stepping even closer to Eliott, reaching up and brushing a piece of hair away from Eliott’s face. “How?”

It’s Eliott’s turn to bring Lucas closer, his hands trailing up Lucas’ arms, his neck, to gently cradle Lucas’ face in his hands. There isn’t an easy way to explain what had happened just then, the thing that never should have been possible, and yet–

“All that time I stole? I gave it back.”

“Just like that?”

Eliott knows he will never be able to fully understand what had let him walk away from his divinity, but something tells him there aren't many gods who so willingly try to part with it. He had always felt more mortal than god anyway, craving connection, and warmth, and love, and when Lucas had walked into his life, it had been a catalyst. And maybe, in the end, that had been what had made the impossible possible. Gods always had a knack for transformation in a time of desperate need, even if it was mostly plants and rivers.

Lucas had tied him to his humanity, and transformation, when it came, turned into the one thing that could give him everything – a mortal with an ephemeral heart.

“Only because of you,” Eliott says like it's some kind of explanation. But he knows Lucas will never understand what it’s like to let divinity seep from your skin, to let it wash away and feel relieved and so Lucas will have to settle for clumsy declarations of love and skin brushing skin instead of answers. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“That’s good,” Lucas says laughing, the reality of Eliott’s choice sinking in. “Because I’ve only ever wanted you.”

And then they kiss again and laugh and Lucas takes Eliott’s hand and drags him through the field to the sun-kissed grass where they fall, holding each other in their relief.

They may not have forever in the way Eliott once lived it, but forever can be tiring and dull when you’re spending it alone. Even though he will now stare down death each day, Eliott has never felt more alive than when he is with Lucas. His mortal years will be, undoubtedly, the best of his long life.

Eliott and Lucas will get their own version of eternity together, filled with love in all its forms, the most human of any emotion, and one a god seldom understands. Eliott was never such a god, and his love for Lucas flows through him like his divinity once did. And when the time comes, Eliott follows Lucas down to the place where their souls can truly rest and spend a happy forever together.

But neither of them know that yet on this last day of summer as they lay together in the warm grass, drinking in the feeling of the other by their side. But as Eliott lies there, his arms around Lucas, gently running his fingers up and down Lucas’ arms he thinks: every minute with Lucas is a minute he stole. He knows: he was the god of stolen time for a reason.