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Odysseus really doesn’t know why Polites is still so trusting, ever since the tusked boar incident, surely he should have learned by now? But Odysseus doesn’t really want that. He wouldn’t want Polites to change even for a moment, not even now when he’s trusting some Winions to feed him.
Odysseus prepared to object, to list off all the reasons why they shouldn’t just eat the food without inspecting it first, but Polites, the light of this entire war, too trusting for his own good, took a giant bite out of the golden fruit. Golden… golden fruit.
Ah.
Lotus.
“Polites, wait—” He tried, uselessly. “That’s…”
Polites giggled, wiping his mouth. “I’m fine, Captain!” he saw Odysseus’ expression and raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
“That was…not real food, Polites,” Odysseus took him by the hand and led him out of the cave. Fighting the Winions is not a good idea with a mind-boggled Polites in toe.
Polites hugged him and held him tight, which is not strange behaviour from him, but something felt off. The Lotus is doing something to his brain, and Odysseus doesn’t know what it is. Is his mind altered in a sensory way? Is he seeing and hearing things that aren’t there? He might be knowledgeable on Lotuses in some way or another, but not the full extent.
“My light,” Odysseus tried to reason. “You’ve eaten a Lotus, you’re mentally compromised, but we still need to find food for our men.”
“We can feed off the grass!” Polites excitedly exclaimed. “Or maybe each other!”
“...what does that even mean,” he squinted. “We’re not going to cannibalise our comrades, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” Polites giggled again, scratching his arm. “I just…love everything. My heart is full of so much emotion that needs to be expressed through— anything, really. It hurts. It hurts so much, Captain.”
Odysseus was thrown off by the sudden turn of conversation and decided to sit them both down on the grass, waiting out the Lotus’s symptoms instead of attempting to continue the search alone.
“What do you normally do with all that emotion?” Odysseus asked. “I mean, surely this isn’t only just now popping up due to the Lotus in your system.”
“Most of the time I give you hugs and stuff,” Polites responded, turning in the grass to relax on his side. “It’s not childish, though. I genuinely believe that the world is great if you learn to accept it for what it is.”
That’s the problem.
“Interesting,” Odysseus hums, happy to have a break from all the stress and talk with his friend for a moment. Even if it’s…under not-so-ideal circumstances. “How do you feel, Polites?”
“Awful,” Polites answered, surprisingly honest. Well, not surprising because he’s honest, the world would probably explode if he ever told a lie, but moresoe the answer he gave. “My stomach is killing me and I feel so light-headed.”
“Sorry to hear that, my friend,”
Polites laughs the clearest and brightest laugh that puts the sun to shame. “You sound so serious! It’s not like I died or anything.”
“Please don’t joke about that kind of thing,” Odysseus groans and rubs his eyes. “Don’t want you speaking something like that into existence.”
“Again, so serious!” Polites elbow-nudged him. “What happened to that beautiful care-free man I used to know?”
Odysseus sat there, stunned. If it were anyone else saying this under any other circumstance he’d have them reprimanded, but with Polites it’s different. It’s always been different.
“I…became king.” Odysseus said, with a hefty dose of bitterness in his voice. “Responsibility like that can really mess someone up, you know.”
Polites wilted like the Lotus he ate. “I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“—it’s alright. You’re…intoxicated, anyways,” Odysseus waved his concerns away, immediately uncomfortable at the sad look in his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
A long silence followed, and Odysseus was almost sure that Polites must have fallen asleep or recovered, but turned to look and…Polites was staring at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. And he’s known him since he was a child, he shouldn’t have unreadable expressions.
“Something in my hair?” Odysseus offered.
“Just the blood of thousands of Trojans,” Polites whispered. “Dripping…from your face.”
“What…? Polites, where is this coming from?”
Polites sits up and scooches closer to his friend, taking his hand in his. Mesmerised by this action, Odysseus doesn’t make any attempt to move away, letting his friend trace the scars on his hands from palm to thumb.
“This one came from your training with Athene, you told me yourself,” Polites pointed to a specific scar on his forefinger. “And this one came from tripping over a rock.”
“Oh, you don’t need to patronise me,” Odysseus shook his head, snorting. “The O-So-Great King of Ithaca, scarred from tripping over a simple stone.”
“I think it’s cute,” Polites grinned. “My light, your body tells a story of vulnerability and love. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He dropped Odysseus’ hand. “If anything, it’s something to be proud of. Look at me? Barely any scars.”
“Most of those are because I took them for you.”
“Yes, thank you by the way, but it also means everyone thinks I’m some naive soldier who hasn’t seen war!”
“But you served side by side with them in the war, Polites, they love you.”
Polites pauses, as if the thought of someone loving him the same way he loves everyone was so unfathomable. Loving Polites is as easy as breathing, really, it shouldn’t come so much as a shock. If Penelope met him before she met Odysseus, she’d surely choose Polites over him. Although, that thought sends his stomach churning so he doesn’t dwell on it too long.
“My head…hurts so much,” Polites rubbed his temple, suddenly debilitated. “Downsides to being a healer is when the one who’s hurt is…myself.”
Odysseus sat up to apply some pressure to the sides of his head, careful not to mess up his headband. Polites hummed in delight, and shut his eyes, he mouthed a silent ‘thank you.’
“Anytime,” Odysseus ran an impulsive hand through Polites’ curls. Once he realised what he was doing, he awkwardly apologised and untangled his hand away.
“Hey, I was enjoying that!” Polites protested, finally opening his eyes.
“Bossing your King around, now?” Odysseus teased. “Bossing your Captain around?”
“More like pouting that my dork friend — Odysseus — won’t continue a comforting gesture to a sickly man,” he made a dramatic motion to his forehead, faking offence.
“An overly-dramatic and incredibly annoying sickly man,” Odysseus corrected, but returned to running a hand through Polites’ hair anyways.
“My legs feel like jello,” Polites complained, rubbing uselessly against his knees in a soothing motion. “And my mind feels so foggy.”
“You seem to be acting normally, though,” Odysseus pointed out. “So no clouded judgement, hm?”
“It feels clouded,” Polites hissed, a sudden pain piercing his head. “Augh. It’s a…bad headache.”
Odysseus continued running his hands through his hair, hoping to calm him. Well, not exactly hoping, he knows that Polites likes his hair being played with. ‘It’s a good distraction,’ he once said when Odysseus had asked about it. Two thirteen year old boys playing in the garden, not a care in the world for what’s ahead. Polites still doesn’t seem to have those types of cares, still bright-eyed and hopeful, believing that everyone and everything deserves a chance. This broken and war-filled world doesn’t deserve such a sun-ray of a person.
“You know,” Polites began after quite a long silence. “This is just like the old days, really.”
“Except we’re in the middle of a war,” Odysseus commented, gloomily. “Starving. And you’re under the influence of a Lotus.”
“Hey-a!” Polites objected, hitting Odysseus in the stomach, lightly. “I’m trying to be hopeful at the moment!”
“You keep doing that,” Odysseus laughed, threading his hand through a new-found knot in Polites’ hair. He added, after a small bit of silence. “You have to.”
Polites looked up at Odysseus with raised eyebrows. “Have to, Captain? Is that an order? ”
“An order to what?” Odysseus prodded. “To always be your bright, usual self?”
Polites squinted. “Odysseus, why do you smell weird?”
Ah. So the sensory changes must be settling in now. He was beginning to think that they might not show up.
“No, the Lotus is messing with your mind.”
Polites didn’t seem convinced, determined to find out the sudden change in his perception. He moved in closer and tried to gain a better sense. Odysseus, predictably, pushed him away, ala ‘Don’t try to smell me, that’s strange.’
Polites huffed. “Please, Ody,” Ah. Calling him Ody, now. “I want to!”
And his judgement must be impaired. Not that smelling someone is the strangest thing he’s encountered, but…the look Polites is giving him is setting his teeth on edge.
Oh. Polites is kissing him. Odysseus sits as frozen as a stone. It’s the Lotus, he doesn’t mean it, it’s the Lotus, he doesn’t mean it—repeating around in his head as the smallest yelp comes from his mouth. By the time he remembered he has arms and legs and appendages, he pushes Polites off him.
“I’m…sorry, I’m so sorry,” Polites sputtered out. “I don’t know why I did that, I don’t know what came over me, I swear, Captain, I’m so sorry—”
Odysseus halted the onslaught of apologies with a wave of his hand and a well placed shush. “Alright,” he took a deep, steadying breath. “Polites.”
Polites looked frightened beyond belief, panicking more than Odysseus had ever seen him.
“Polites, you…are not yourself right now,” Odysseus swallowed. “So you’ve got some leeway to work with—”
“—I’m so sorry, Odysseus, you’re my best friend, I don’t—”
“Hey. Hey, stop that,” Odysseus commanded. “You’re my best friend as well, since before I was king and I’ve known you for longer than anyone else in my life. A simple kiss isn’t going to destroy all of that.”
“We need to find food,” Polites said, trying to lift himself off the ground. Odysseus protests but Polites will have none of it, standing upright on his shaking legs, in a profound attempt at willing himself to go through with it. His valiant effort is rewarded, however, with a collapse to the ground.
Odysseus sat down next to his friend, taking his hand in his and simply held it, hoping his presence might still be comforting, despite recent events.
“I love you so much,” Polites admitted, rubbing his tearful eyes. “And the worst part about it is that I don’t want to stop.”
“Why would you want to stop?” Odysseus asked, softly.
“I don’t,” Polites protested. “Even if it is one sided, love is never a weakness. I have never once felt dismayed or betrayed when around you. I know you…will never feel the same way about me, but you don’t have to. I love you, and being around you is good enough. More than good enough. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world, to spend time with you, Captain.”
“You don’t have to call me Captain, Polites.”
“I want to.”
Odysseus is torn in two. Polites seems to be…alright with their current arrangement, but Odysseus isn’t. Not because he’s ‘uncomfortable’ with Polites being in love with him, but because Polites deserves better. He deserves someone who will love him back, someone who will cherish him with all the precious softness he deserves. Everything they do together must be incredibly hurtful for him. “My Light.” Their nicknames for each-other are now painted in a heartbrokenly sweet colour of red.
Because in all honesty, Odysseus loves Polites back. Perhaps, not in the same way—or maybe he does—but had never even comprehended or entertained the thought before, loyal to his wife till the end. All he knows is that if Polites disappeared from his life, he’d be devastated beyond belief. His life would be dark and null without him. Sure, Penelope and Eurylochus would still be there, and they’d support and help him, but it still won’t be the same without him. Polites is his oldest friend, his closest and most dear person in his life, even if he doesn’t feel that way about him, surely that doesn't mean that diminishes the bond they have?
“Polites?” Odysseus swallowed. Polites looked up at him, still smiling brightly despite the tears, with the golden sun shining on his eyes, he knows why he calls him light. “I…love you too.”
Polites laughed, the clarity of it muddled by the crying a moment earlier. “Not the way I do.”
“...No,” Odysseus admitted. “I do not. But you’re still the most important person in my life.”
“The way you’re saying this makes me worried,” Polites stood up, Odysseus wary by his side and ready to catch him if he falls. He doesn’t. “What does this mean?”
“I mean,” Odysseus tried to put his thoughts together. “I mean that you deserve someone who will love you back. My Light, I love you, but not the way you need me to—”
“Now, you may be King, but only I get to say what I need.” Polites stated, with a stronger tone of voice than he usually sports. He dusts his shoulders, confidently, the Lotus-effect having worn off. “Leaving your side is like denouncing everything I stand for and believe in.”
“You deserve better.”
“I couldn’t imagine someone better than you if I tried.”