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The air was sweet and cool in Hyacinthus' nose as he walked through the city-state. It was quiet, as it normally was around this time of night- people rose and retired with the sun for the most part, though such a sentiment could not be shared by Hyacinthus; for him, the night was his time of true awakening, when he could tie his hair back and bind his chest and breach into the world as a whole and complete man, something he couldn't do when the sun rose over the horizons. Upon morning, he would crawl back into his chrysalis and enclose himself inside, miming the role of a dutiful princess to the best of his ability. He was his father's favorite daughter, after all, even if he so longed to be called a son.
This was his trouble, you see- he was a man, in heart and spirit and soul, but to the rest of the world he looked a woman. He had womanly features, softened still by the stubborn lingerings of girlhood; his arms were thin and untoned, his hips wide and waist thin. There was an emptiness between his thighs that he couldn't ever seem to ignore and a weight upon his chest he feared he would never be rid of. But at night, he could relinquish such features- nobody suspected a woman to be dressed as a man, and so even his feminine traits would be overlooked as long as he pulled his brother's old tunic over his head before he left his home. As long as he tied his hair back the way men did, the thin, supple neck that it framed would be ignored. He was an attractive woman, as many a suitor would be quick to assure him, but he was a beautiful man.
On this night he heard music as he approached the training grounds. This was where he mingled with the likeminded folk of this city-state; the rules that were so rigid during the day seemed to shirk from moonlight, allowing men and women to speak on equal terms, to fight one another in friendly competition, for the rich and poor to commune without fear of societal retribution. This was where Hyacinthus found sanctuary- there were even others here like him, though only two. Men who vied for womanhood as Hyacinthus vied for manhood. They were older than him by a significant amount, so he had only spoken to them once or twice, but they were kind, and one of the women who called herself Ambrosia had offered her hearth and home to Hyacinthus if ever he had need.
They were here tonight as he entered, sitting at a table and chatting amongst themselves. They always seemed so happy to be here, though he always saw a sadness in their eyes. He knew it well- it was in his own, as well. The knowledge that in a few short hours they would have to strip themselves of who they were and reapply the facade made it difficult to relish this time. But Hyacinthus did his best to enjoy himself no matter how long or little he stayed.
He heard the shepherd's flute and drums a little ways away, laughter and idle chatter atop it though not drowning it out. He plucked an olive out of a bowl on one of the tables and popped it into his mouth, watching two men with an obvious lack of combat training spar playfully in the sand pits. One, the younger of the two, attacked with a smiling shout, while the other, deflected the spear with the shield in his hand. Others were doing similar activities around them, and for all the attacking and rebuttal there was no malice. It was all in good fun, these fights; a way to blow off steam after a long day. Hyacinthus rarely participated himself, only having combat experience by means of watching his brothers train and replicating the techniques in the sanctity of his bedroom, but whenever he did he enjoyed it. The fights burned the muscles in the most satisfying way and the strain that lingered the next morning only served to remind him of the exhilarating night before. He smiled as the younger man poked the older with the tip of the dull spear, shouting in triumph while the older man laughed and congratulated him.
"Hyacinthus!"
He turned at the calling of his name, a fluttering of happiness going through him at the sound of it. Usually, he was known only to himself as Hyacinthus- it was the name he had chosen for himself and what his soul longed to be called, but the sun was cruel and forced it hidden. Here, though, it was the only name by which he was known. Many frequent arrivals knew him, and though he was called almost every night, every time he heard his name a small bit of joy lit his soul. This time, the wielder of such light was Agapios, an acquaintance of his father's. The older man had introduced Hyacinthus to this place; he'd come to have an audience with his father when Hyacinthus was much younger and had noticed how taken the girl- now, boy- was with the vibrancy with which he dressed and held himself. Agapios was colorful and bright even under daylight- Hyacinthus envied this, his courage to flourish under the sun where others would hide and wait for the moon. He would not, however, resent Agapios for such a thing, as the older man had helped him so selflessly through his journey of self-actualization.
"Agapios! Hello," Hyacinthus greeted, accepting a hug and a familial kiss on the temple. "I haven't seen you in some time. Where have you been?"
"Ah, well. Life tends to hold one back from the things they truly enjoy," Agapios responded with a curt chuckle. "I had to travel to Athens and only just returned last night."
"Well, I am glad to see you back." Hyacinthus smiled and Agapios returned the gesture, putting his hand on Hyacinthus' upper arm before letting it fall. Hyacinthus looked out onto the training grounds. "It's livelier tonight, is it not?"
"Perhaps. You're probably right."
"What might be the reason, do you think?"
"Mm," Agapios hummed, a small smile playing at his lips. "That would be the man who is approaching the players, I'd reckon. The one with the yellow hair and gold lyre."
Hyacinthus turned to take a look, expecting a search but finding him instantly. It was almost as if his eyes were drawn the the man, as if he couldn't look away as the music stopped and the man spoke with the players. Hyacinthus could see only the back of his head, but the moonlight showed off his toned arms and shining blond hair that contrasted nicely with his dark skin. He laughed- Hyacinthus could hear from where he stood, a melodic, jingling sound- and rested his hand on the shepherd flute player's upper arm much as Agapios had Hyacinthus' earlier. Then, he made a motion for the players to continue their song, and turned with a musical flourish of his hand on the lyre.
The song he played was almost as beautiful as his countenance, which Hyacinthus could only just barely make out. His smile was bright as the sun and his eyes, though Hyacinthus couldn't tell what color they were, shone with excitement. His expert hands were adorned with gold and precious metals telling of wealth or at least deft fingers. His feet were quick as he danced in place, light steps and nimble footwork telling of practice and a great love for the capability of his body's movement. He sang, too, a glorious sound that was almost as if uttered by a god. Hyacinthus blinked at the sight.
"Who is he?"
"You like him too, do you?" Agapios japed, a grin on his face.
"I do not fancy him, Agapios. Stop your jests. I simply want to know who he is."
"That's what they all say." Hyacinthus gave him a look and Agapios raised his hands in innocence, laughing heartily. "You're not the first. Many of the women here were instantly taken with him if their preferences weren't otherwise inclined. He didn't seem to have much interest in their advances, however, so you may yet have a chance. Though, no man has dared try yet. It's his first night here, I've heard, so nobody's sure of his intentions. He seems kind enough, though, and I did see him speaking with Eugenia earlier, so it could be that he has no malice in being here."
"Hm," Hyacinthus responded, turning his gaze back over to the man, who'd danced an excited circle around the other players. There was a growing crowd now around the musicians, some people even clapping along with the drums as he continued to play and sing and dance to his heart's content. There truly was something about him, Hyacinthus decided. The man was unable to be ignored. If he was talking with Eugenia, then there was every possibility that he didn't have the same inclinations as the greater whole of Spartan society- she was one of the two women who were unfortunately born as men, but she was also one of the strongest participants of these little nightly get-togethers. She was fiercely protective of everyone there and if she caught wind of any cruelty within, she would pull the rotten roots quickly and without question. This also meant that she was suspicious and rarely spoke with anyone who wasn't a known frequenter of the training grounds. For her to be speaking with a first-nighter was rare and, frankly, very surprising.
"He certainly is radiant, no?" Agapios mused, his voice contemplative. Hyacinthus looked at him. There was a spark in his eye, one of familiarity though without concrete understanding. Like he knew the man, but from a distant, mostly-faded dream. "Looking at him... I am reminded of something I can't quite fathom."
Hyacinthus shared the sentiment, though he didn't respond to Agapios. He instead turned back to where the man's song ended and he trailed off with another melodic laugh, toothy and genuine joy coming through unbridled on his face. He looked around at the crowd until his eyes fell onto Hyacinthus, locking his gaze and holding it there. The singer's eyes widened slightly- he blinked once, lips parted with an emotion Hyacinthus didn't entirely recognize. Hyacinthus couldn't seem to look away. His body was filled with warmth, that man's eyes burning through his own and melting his body from within. It wasn't unpleasant.
The stare was finally broken when someone moved between them, forcefully cutting off Hyacinthus' line of sight. Free, Hyacinthus felt his face heat upon the realization that he'd been staring at a man he didn't even know- he took the opportunity to move away, bidding Agapios a quick goodnight before turning on his heel and stalking back the way he came. He hadn't been in the training grounds for long tonight, regrettably, but he felt he couldn't stay after that ordeal.
He kept walking even when Agapios called after him, and even when the warmth returned, this time on his neck, seeming to almost beckon him back.
---
"Hypatia, are you listening?"
Hyacinthus blinked out of his daydream and looked up from where he'd been staring out the window. His mother stood before him, hands on her hips, eyebrow quirked in the way that meant she was annoyed. Hyacinthus pursed his lips. He'd been thinking of that man again. It had been three days since their eyes had met and Hyacinthus hadn't been able to cease his thoughts of him since. The man with the lyre, that moment where they'd shared a gaze more intense than any Hyacinthus had ever held, the part of his lips, the shine of his hair in the moonlight... He hadn't gone to the training grounds since the incident. He'd wanted to, of course, partly because he wanted to see the man again, but he couldn't bring himself to go for much the same reason. The thought of meeting this man- now an inevitability, seeing as the singer had definitely taken notice and would surely seek Hyacinthus out if he were spotted- scared Hyacinthus more than anything and he didn't know why. He just seemed so unattainable and yet too close all at once. At the same time, however, just the thought of his eyes, widened and sparkling with an inexplicable emotion as they lingered in Hyacinthus', warmed him from the inside out.
"I apologize, mother. What were you saying?" He asked, (unsuccessfully) trying to banish the thoughts of this mysterious man from his head.
"If you had listened, you would know that I was telling you of your newest suitor," She said, her voice sharp with irritation. "A man your age from Athens, Euthymius. You must not scare them away this time, Hypatia. You have done so poorly in the past- your future is wholly dependent on whether you can find yourself a decent husband."
"Yes, mother," Hyacinthus responded, turning his gaze back out the window. He had literally no intention of even humoring the suitors into thinking he was interested. He would never be interested in marrying someone who only saw this side of him, who would be horrified at the truth of his identity. His mother fell silent for a moment before Hyacinthus heard her sigh. When she next spoke, her voice was gentler.
"I know this has been difficult for you. But you are a lovely girl. You have every chance at finding happiness, even if you cannot see it at first. Your father has been generous enough to allow you to pick the suitor you desire, so take your time, but your window will be closing before you know it, and you must find a husband who will give you children soon."
"I know, mother." I'm not a girl. He wanted to yell. He wanted to let his mother know, to make her understand. But she would never understand- she would look at him as if he were delusional, and perhaps he was, but if that was the case he'd been so his entire life.
His mother sighed once more and took her leave without another word, leaving Hyacinthus to stare out the window, watching birds take flight off the branch of a tree.
The suitor came and went without much conversation as the man quickly bored of Hyacinthus' sour attitude and biting tongue. Once he left, Hyacinthus allowed his mind to once again wander to yellow hair and a voice like gold.
---
The man was standing by Hyacinthus' usual table when he arrived at the training grounds that night.
Hyacinthus blinked and stopped, watching the back of the man's head. That pale blond hair, strands blowing in the weak breeze and tickling the back of his neck. Hyacinthus considered turning back around and walking away, but something stopped him. The memory of that warmth, the way it beckoned as he left the training grounds just a few nights before. As if this man were watching him and wanted him to return. He took a deep breath and continued down the hill into the shallow valley in which the training grounds sat.
The man did not turn when Hyacinthus appeared at his side, seeming to almost expect his arrival. As Hyacinthus looked up at him, though, a small smile was curling on his lips.
"Good evening," he greeted, finally looking down at Hyacinthus. "It's good to see you again."
"Good evening," Hyacinthus replied. The man's smile widened and he looked back to where he'd been watching men spar in the pits. Hyacinthus watched, too, seeing some familiar faces. He bit his lip. The man who'd plagued his thoughts for the past three days was standing right next to him and he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't sure what it meant, to have someone haunt your mind so thoroughly, to have someone who, at just the mere thought of him, sends warmth through your extremities. It was nice, though, having something for himself in the daytime. If nothing else, he could have thoughts of men who knew him as he was when he could not otherwise consider them.
Hyacinthus chanced another look back to the man, whose eyes- Hyacinthus could now see that they were a honey brown, almost gold- were still trained on the fighters. His skin was dark and smooth and porcelain, cheeks and forehead smattered with freckles. Hyacinthus was surprised- he hadn't seen the man up close before, but he surely hadn't expected freckles. It suited him, though.
He looked down at Hyacinthus, most likely sensing the stare, and Hyacinthus quickly tore his gaze away in embarrassment. To his horror, the man laughed, a good-natured, jingling sort of sound. Then, Hyacinthus was once again surprised when the man offered his arm. He looked up to meet the man's eyes, seeing that smile still pressed into his mouth.
"Would you walk with me?" he asked. "I would like to know you, and there are far too many people here to truly talk."
Hyacinthus blinked up at the man. "I do not even know your name."
The man's eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. "And I do not know yours. Hence, the walk."
The younger man pursed his lips and, with slight hesitation, took the man's arm and allowed him to lead Hyacinthus away from the training grounds. Agapios caught his eye as they left, giving him a knowing smile before turning back to speak with whoever he had been before. The man lead them down to the shore, not too far from the training grounds and leagues quieter, and let go of Hyacinthus once they reached the sand. He bent, taking his sandals off and leaving them on a rock, offering his hand to Hyacinthus once he'd finished doing the same.
"You were watching me sing a few nights ago," the man said as they walked, listening to the waves lap the wet sand. "I am glad for it."
"Glad?"
"Glad that you were there to see it, for how else could I have seen you?"
Hyacinthus gave a dry chuckle.
"Was it not the intention of this walk to get to know each other? Flattery does not tell me who you are."
"Ah, indeed. It seems we must exchange names, then."
"It seems so."
"In that case"- the man pulled from Hyacinthus, standing in front of him to block his passage. His smile was turned slightly mischievous, quirked slightly where it had been kinder before. Hyacinthus couldn't help but smile back- "my name is Thamyris, of Thrace."
"What are you doing in Sparta, Thamyris of Thrace? Surely it isn't only to partake in the nightly activities of the city-state's social outcasts."
The man put his hands behind his back. "A question for a question. I'd like to know your name, as well."
Hyacinthus' smile widened, slightly. This banter, with someone of his age who wanted to know him for more than his family's status, was refreshing. Not to mention that when he looked into Thamyris' face, that warmth still pooled in his stomach. He hoped he'd never get used to it.
"And why should I give myself up so easily?" He swept past Thamyris, linking his own hands behind his back. "Would it not be more fun to let you simmer in my mystique? Perhaps it is my right to be mysterious and unattainable."
He heard a soft laugh from Thamyris and he jogged to catch up, walking now beside Hyacinthus.
"Alright, then. If I guess your name, will you tell me if I am right?"
"Yes. But you will not be able to. My name is quite unique."
"Hm," The man responded playfully. "Let's see."
He looked up to the sky. "Asterios," He said. Stars.
"No," Hyacinthus responded, though a smile made its way onto his face. "I am not a man of the stars."
"The opposite, then, perhaps? Anatolios." Sunrise. Hyacinthus smiled.
"My family worships Apollo, so that is a strong attempt despite not knowing who I am, but you're still far from correct."
"Hmm. How about Chrysanthos? Surely it's Chrysanthos." Flowers. "You seem like you would have such a name."
Hyacinthus hummed. "I like that one. I do love flowers."
"But?"
"Still wrong."
Thamyris huffed a laugh. "Fine, then." He sped his gait and stepped in front of Hyacinthus. "How about Epaphroditos?" Lovely. "It would fit your beauty."
Thamyris took a step closer before Hyacinthus could respond. "Or maybe Tryphon." Soft, Delicate.
Another step. Their faces were close enough that, if Hyacinthus wished to close the gap, he could do so without even leaning. He exhaled shakily, unable to break the eye contact that Thamyris was holding. As if to punctuate his last guess, Thamyris gently grazed his knuckle against Hyacinthus' jawbone. Hyacinthus shivered.
"Kallistos." Most Beautiful.
Hyacinthus drew a sharp breath and took a sudden step away from Thamyris.
"If this is an attempt to win my favor, I will have to decline."
"Oh? And why's that?" Because I am a woman in body and you believe me to be a man and I do not want to disappoint you.
"I am not in search of a lover at present and do not intend to be anytime soon."
"Is that right?"
There was a sort of humor in the man's tone. Thamyris was teasing him. It wasn't out of place-Hyacinthus knew how he looked. If he peered into a mirror he would surely see himself with cheeks painted rosy pink, eyes shining with hesitant infatuation and joy. He was having more fun alone with Thamyris than he had in years. But he couldn't allow himself to be swept off his feet by someone who didn't know, by someone who wouldn't understand. He looked up at Thamyris from where he'd been looking at the sand, seeing a certain affection in his eyes that felt new and raw, ready to be built upon and reinforced. Hyacinth yearned.
"I apologize, but I- I must go. This was not a good idea, coming out here. It's unsafe." Hyacinthus turned on his heel, much as he had just a few nights before, but this time, instead of warmth on his neck, a hand grabbed his forearm.
"Wait," Thamyris implored. When Hyacinthus turned, the flirtatious gleam in Thamyris' eye was gone, replaced with concern and a gentle kind of desperation. "What is it? Have I offended you?"
"No, I- we shouldn't be out here. That is all."
"I will not hurt you," Thamyris said, pulling Hyacinthus closer and moving his hand to cup his face. "I will keep you safe."
"You cannot promise that," Hyacinthus whispered, though he made no attempt to move away from Thamyris' hand. "You do not know me."
"I want to," Thamyris murmured in response, his voice almost drowned out by the waves against the shore. "I want to know you."
"I want..." Hyacinthus trailed off, looking into Thamyris' patient gaze. "I do not know what I want."
This wasn't true. Hyacinthus wanted this- the warmth, the hand against his face and thumb rubbing kindly against his cheekbone. The intimacy of flesh against flesh, of eye contact deeper than that of anyone else. His heart had decided tonight that he wanted Thamyris, and he wanted him like this- in the moonlight, shadows kissed into the hollows of his cheeks and honey-brown eyes almost glowing. He wanted him like this, standing barefoot on the sand and once again close enough to connect their lips without any effort. He wanted him like this, staring at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted the warmth, and he wanted to never get used to it.
"I really do need to leave," Hyacinthus said quietly. "I need to get home before my parents know that I've left."
"Will I see you again?"
"Yes," Hyacinthus said without hesitation. "Yes."
"Then," Thamyris said, pulling away from Hyacinthus. He felt cold in his absence. "I'll bid you good night. But I ask of you one thing before you go."
"Yes?"
"Your name. Not knowing it has haunted me these past days, and I fear I will not be able to go on if I do not finally learn it."
With a smile on his face, he stepped forward and planted a chaste kiss on Thamyris' cheek. The man's skin was pleasantly warm that it was difficult not to let his lips linger.
"It's Hyacinthus," he whispered into Thamyris' ear. Before the man could react, Hyacinthus was walking away, leaving him where he stood in the sand. The smile on his face felt etched into his lips. He was sure that even daylight couldn't wash it away.
---
"Hyacinthus."
Apollo tried out the name, allowing his tongue to learn the curves and edges of it and allowing his lips to wrap around it, to memorize it, to write the feeling of it into his deepest mind. He watched the man walk away, the feeling of lips on his cheek lingering with a prickling spark. He raised his hands to it, resting his fingers upon the skin where it was left.
How peculiar Hyacinthus was, to make the god of the sun yearn for nightfall.