Chapter Text
It started almost a month ago. November 3rd to be exact. It was a Friday morning and back then Patroclus still thought it was a joke made by Briseis.But now he knows it wasn't - or isn't. And it drives him absolutely crazy. He has to figure out who his secret admirer is and his plan is an easy one. He's going to start by thinking about all the days they had some kind of contact. Maybe he'll find an important detail he was missing up until now.
It started on mentioned Friday; He overslept and almost fell down the stairs because he was running like a maniac to catch the bus. The same bus he missed anyway, leaving him behind in the pouring rain.
He didn't even know that it was raining until he ran out of the house - without a proper jacket or an umbrella. Nope. He was the idiot in converse, ripped skinny jeans and a thin flannel over his t-shirt.
Waiting for the next bus would have cost him 15 minutes. Time he didn't have. So he decided to run to school instead. It wasn't that far, but the ugly weather made him feel like he had to run 30 miles.
On his way he sent a message to his friend's group chat, informing them of his amazing morning. He also sent a picture of himself. He looked absolutely ridiculous; like he just stepped into a shower - fully clothed.
It didn't take long til the first of his friends answered, probably from inside a warm bed, car or bus. He was incredibly jealous of them.
Briseis' biology class was canceled, so her day only started with the third period. Diomedes and Achilles had some competition with the track team and they met 10 a.m. in the school parking lot to drive to a nearby stadium. Only Penelope and Chryseis had to be at school at 8 just like him.
Briseis: tf Pat? r u planning on sitting in school like that all day?! U gonna get pneumonia
Penelope: You're not even wearing a jacket, are you?
Diomedes: dude forget about the stupid jacket
Diomedes: I hope you have ur gym shoes
Diomedes: wet feet r worse than a wet shirt
Patroclus decided that texting them was a horrible mistake. Briseis had to be an overly dramatic sister and because of Diomedes he was now uncomfortably aware of his wet feet. And Penelope just acted like a mum.
Ever since she became part of their group she's the parent-friend. Patroclus is sure that she decided to basically adopt him the first day they met - which is weird because he's a few months older than her. But that didn't seem to stop her.
He actually made it to class in time. It was a miracle. And he only felt like throwing up his lungs for about 30 minutes. He took that as an absolute win.
After an incredibly boring literature class, Briseis had called him and he was finally able to rant about the disgusting feeling of wet socks on his feet. Students around were looking at him weird but he didn't care. Looking back those were the people who knew about his problem. Random students in his literature class and Briseis.
That call was the reason he thought that the next thing that happened that day was her way of messing with him.
Around 10 o'clock he got to his locker and found a pair of fluffy light blue socks inside. He held them in his hand and wondered why Briseis would shove them through the slots of his locker instead of just handing them over during their next lesson together.
But then he saw the post-it on top of his history book; in the same color as his new socks. He turned it around, expecting to see a note from Briseis, telling him not to get sick and enjoy his fluffy and most importantly dry socks.
Instead it was a handwriting he didn't recognize; impersonal and forced to perfection. It almost looked like the person who wrote it tried to copy Times New Roman.
But the content of the note was even weirder. Only one sentence.
We're not socks, but I think we would make a cute pair anyway.
He remembers his confusion. Briseis wouldn't write that. She is - in her very own words - really fucking gay. But then he thought that she probably did it anyway, just to mess with him. So he decided to ignore it.
He put on the socks and went on with his day like usual. Briseis didn't say anything and neither did he.
Over the weekend he had almost forgotten all about it.
Until he found the next of many post-it notes to come on Monday.