Work Text:
his name is given to him in hopes of something he never does become. with the passing of the years he seems to have grown accustomed to it, seems to have given into the inevitability that it will always follow him. he does not love it, but he does not resent it.
i quite like it.
truthfully, i do not believe i would pronounce his name with as much reverence if it didn’t belong to him,
but i find that i am unable to treat it with less than the utmost care and respect. for his name, by the mere fact that it is his, is not and cannot ever be sound only; it is a droplet of water in the blistering sands of the dessert, it is a howling gale that both nurtures and destroys, it is a haunting song that drives men to their demises under the promises of tender touch, it is so many things, but most importantly, i think,
it is the richness of his curls, the patient set of his brows, the brightness of his eyes, the graceful arc of his nose, the lovely curve of his mouth, the firm determination of his chin, the kindness in his palms, the carefulness of his fingers, the warm shade of his honesty
it is my better half, it is my humanity, it is my most beloved,
it is him.
it is everything.
so this is how i worship it:
i say his name in happiness, with my hand clasped securely in his, when we talk for hours and find that the sun has set, as he very clearly does his best to fight sleep but finds that it is a losing battle, and whispers “i love you” as his breaths become slower and slower
i say his name in wonder, when his eyes meet my gaze and i am sure that i can see ages and ages of the history of the universe in them, that i can look into his eyes and find answers that no man ever has, that the gods may not even be privy to
i say his name in a haze, with our sheets at our feet and our limbs tangled, when the reality of our bleak lives seems distant and inconsequential, for how important could war be when i am able to explore his body like this
i say his name in anger, in the headache inducing moments where he challenges my reasoning, and i cannot, for the life of me, reconcile with my own shortcomings, and his disappointment is thick in our scarcely furnished tent
i say his name in shame, with my head bowed but eyes firm, when the tight fury i wear as an armor falls off and leaves me vulnerable, forcing me to hear his words, however unpleasant they may sound, and ask for forgiveness
i say his name in mischievousness, when he nudges my foot under the table, and gives me a private smile, like we share a secret of importance, like we are kids playing at the beach, instead of grown men sitting in meetings of war strategy
i say his name in contentment, when the days are slow and seem to blend together, and my mind aches for the bizarre calmness battle offers me, and he distracts me with stories of the gods, never mind the fact that i’ve heard them before, in his voice, those tired words come to life again
i say his name in secret, when we are separated by long endless distances and my mouth forms the words without ever asking my brain, like a man of piety might utter the names of his gods when he asks for their wisdom or is faced my imminent trouble, like he might pronounce them, just because
i say his name in grief, as desperate sobs escape my mouth, as i tear through my own skin and muscle with scraping nails to be awakened from what is surely (hopefully, please let it be) a nightmare, and despite the vast planes of troy i feel like there is not enough oxygen to breathe in. this is not a dream
i say his name in hysteria, as i clutch and caress his now cold body and pray (demand) to all the gods that he may be returned to me, that i shall burn this entire world down if it meant my lovers’ eyes would fill with life again. if his once warm, loving, patient hands would touch my cheek and assure me that my love has not yet left me
i say his name with eagerness, as the arrow tears through my breast and my limbs slowly go numb, as the sand below me fills with my own blood, embracing me in a warm blanket and my thoughts come to a relieving stop. i will see him again
i say his name in sorrow, as i walk through the pristine beaches of elysium and the trees are full of rich fruit and the jewelry is made with the loveliest diamonds and i have searched this entire place and i cannot find him. i am left wondering if i have been sent to tartarus
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i say his name, and every emotion i’ve ever felt before comes rushing through my body and words cannot accurately describe what i feel as his hand touches mine once more, as his kind fingers deliberately caress my own and his forever kind and forgiving eyes meet my gaze and i am sure that he has missed me (forgiven me),
“my patroclus” i say.
he smiles at me, and i cannot help the sob that rocks through my body.
he is everything.
(everything, everything, everything)