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They are whispers, always, they slipped on Achilles’ skin, like raindrops. Raindrops made of cod acide, sharp as clouds, soft as ice.
And in those whispers, he hears his voice. He recognizes each and every one notes that sing when he speaks, every color in his voice. He recognizes the soft words filled with love in the moonlight, he recognizes the muted angers under the blossom of trees
He recognizes the mumbles of the earth, the rage of thunders, the metal of the blood, the whispers of the blades.
He sees, under his closed lids, pictures of death and terrors. He sees the fear in the eyes of his victims, the deceptive glance of his lover. They do not know each other anymore, their love was some souvenir from the past, but they are still together. Being so distant would have killed them, they know it.
But Achilles was alone, now. He was alone in the west hall, as always, standing up between those two faded pots. From there, he can see Hades working and see Thanatos appears when he feels like it.
He sees the door that leads to the Prince’s chamber, from where he never sleeps but always fights. With time, Achilles has learned to recognize the footsteps of Zagreus when he comes back from the Styx after he dies : He recognizes his voice, losing itself between the whispers of the Shades, sometimes, Hypnos’ voice answers him with some amusement or cynicism. He recognizes love taking place between those two, without seeing anything. Then he recognizes the whispers filled by desire.
He learned to recognize the reddish color on the checks of Zagreus and the flowers borned in his neck. It makes him smile, because the Prince now knows what made Achilles’ heart beast until his dead,
“I will find him, Sir. And I promise you that you will love him again.” he said, once. And Achilles gave every single bit of trust he had to Zagreus, almost naively, with the same innocence that a child has when he is promised sweets. He drank the Prince’s words and now he waits.
Sometimes, Zagreus speaks about Patroclus. He speaks about his broken back, the sadness in his voice, the emptiness in eyes and the false smiles that he barely gives. Achilles knew that, Patroclus was no good with words : When Zagreus laughs about the Stranger that Patroclus gives him, Achilles follows.
[...]
Fear is for the weak.
But he has to admit it, Achilles is terrified. He only hears the voice Patroclus, crying, speaking to himself, with harsh words that go straight to Achilles heart.
He is terrified because seeing Patroclus again means a thousand of things; and if back then when he was still alive, Achilles knew how to lead armies with a word, but knew, he can not seem to find a way to speak with his lover.
Maybe he should let love speak for the both of them, letting exaltation and impatience take over, Or maybe, they should talk calmly, with a plain voice that will hide everything. But he knows that it is impossible. Even when anger lives into his voice, he could not hide love in his words.
He takes one step, and another, without even realizing it. He does not take the time to look at what is around him, the calm and relaxing river, the perfect green of the floor.
The only thing he sees is Patroclus. Patroclus and his eyes. Patroclus and his lips, Patroclus and the tears that are dancing, almost falling off his eyes.
And Achilles smiles, with one of those smiles that eats his face, from ear to ear. The same smile that the one he had as a child, when he had all his life ahead of him, when he was still a naive and innocent kid that threw figs at Patroclus. He remembers his childhood, the first time he met Patroclus. The lyre that he always kept with him, he is missing it right now. He has stopped singing after he died, but he knows one thing, if Patroclus asks him to sing again, he would sing again.
But it is not what matters right now, Right now, all that matters is Patroclus that stands up to open his arms for him.
And Achilles’ heart just explodes. He feels the skin of his lover right under his fingers, he recognizes the warmth of his body, the smell of his skin. Nothing changed since their last hug. Except for the blood.
They are like two kids in love, loving each other like it was their first date, the time that passed does not matter anymore. They are in love, like they were for their first kiss, like they were for their first time, protected in Charon’s pink hideout.
Their lips do not have anything new to discover, but they missed each other. And now, they can not stop meeting again and again, with no words, just love. The hands touch, and the bodies fall in the grass, they fall in love even deeper.
And then, Achilles heard his laugh. His pure laugh, modified by time, but so beautiful, so brilliant with the color of the sun, his heart starts to beat even faster.
In the end, he does not need to talk, nothing changed. There is no remorse and the regrets hide themselves far away, where they can not hurt.
Achilles looks at Patroclus and his lover whispers, for his ears only :
I promised you I would follow you even in death. I told you so, and now we are here.
Achilles starts to cry.