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Derek was running late to class. He grabbed a blueberry muffin and shoved it into his face, holding it with his teeth as he closed and locked the door. As he did, he noticed a folded piece of paper taped to the front of the door. He bit down and swallowed the painfully large bite before shoving what was left of the muffin into his messenger bag. He frowned as he grabbed the note from the dorm room door.
Do you think when the Romans were poaching all the Good God Ideas they forgot about Apollo and that’s why they didn’t change his name? Or did they just think “Apollo” sounded so badass, they couldn’t compete? I think they probably kept it so he and Diana didn’t have Twin Names. Ya know, names that are similar or that start with the same letter. They probably wanted to name him Decoro or something, but some smart guy in the back of the room was like, “dude, no. Artemis and Apollo barely work, Diana and Decoro are shitty together. Now Diana and Apollo sounds badass and it’s less work for us. Win win!” and that was that.
He frowned harder as he reread it. It was just as weird as the first time. The hell? He fought the smile that dared try escape in full view of other people. Not many were around, but he gave a cursory glance anyway. Just enough to see if anyone seemed suspicious, but not enough to look like he was looking for whoever wrote the note. He didn’t want to look like he liked it, that’d just encourage it. He’d spent all his time at college so far buried deep in ancient history and mythology and far away from other people and their drama. So far, so good. Or at least until the note.
He shoved the note into his bag alongside the muffin and stalked quickly to class.
*
Exactly a week later, Derek got home to the same kind of note taped to the door. Another one? He pretended it didn’t give him a bit of a thrill. If it was as funny as the first… He tore it from the door and hurried inside. He wasn’t disappointed.
Just call me Dark Apollo
The God of Sick Composure
My rhymes are hard to swallow
But at their core, ambrosia
I can’t control the moon
But the sun shines as I will it
My music makes the Muses swoon
Now hear me as I kill it!
*Boom, boom, beatbox sounds.*
He laughed out loud, and startled at how much he enjoyed this strange communication. People were weird, and they usually just bothered him. But this was his kind of weird.
*
The next week, the door made a small clicking sound as he pulled it closed, and Derek glanced at it to see if there was another note. There was. He smiled.
Okay, so I have no chill. Sue me. I’ve watched you from afar for the last two years and had this huge plan to woo you with random and funny notes about our studies in our Folklore and Mythology class, but I’m impatient so I’ll cut to the chase.
I like you.
You’re broody, and hot, and smart, and you don’t suffer fools. While I’d be the first to admit to being a fool, I’m definitely the sort you suffer through.
I feel like if I don’t give this a chance, I’ll regret it forever. If you’d like, I really want to date you. I’ll be at the Sun and Moon Cafe (how appropriate!) at ten in the morning for a coffee and our first date. I’ll be waiting, and if you can’t make it that’s okay. I tried and that’s all a guy can do.
You’re the sun, man. You’re like a Dark Apollo. You're music and heat and I wanna get close enough to burn, baby burn.
Your not-so-secret admirer, Stiles. (You know, the loud guy in the plaid who sits behind you and borrowed your phone cable that one time?)
Derek smiled. Of course he knew who Stiles was. He grabbed his phone and set his alarm for half past eight the next morning. That should be enough time to prepare for his date.