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"I've tasted your name on my tongue many a times since I've arrived here."
And just like that, their near-sacred silence is broken. Achilles might have laughed, thrown a teasing remark, or perhaps even replied with a flirtatious comment; had he still been alive. Had he still been the same man on that battlefield, desperate to shun any sentimentality, no matter how much he yearned it, no matter how much his beloved yearned it, he would have changed the topic in an instant, distracting.
The same strategy lightly claws at the inside of his chest now (Always a strategist, always). The usual responses already prepared, despite how many years they've been apart, that instinct never faded. The bile that rises to the back of his throat is soaked in guilt.
"Pat..." his lover leans into him, tickling his neck with his beard. His breath is warm against Achilles' unfeeling skin. The rest of his words get corroded in the same acid, stuck in his throat. He clutches at Patroclus' arm, nails digging in. A form of desperation, his mind supplies. What he's desperate for? He isn't exactly sure.
Patroclus laughs, quiet and breathy and with so much emotions that Achilles has to shift his feet to keep his balance, dizziness seemingly swirling his vision. His beloved just wraps his arms more securely across his back, pulling them that much closer.
"You foolishly signed a contract with the Lord of the Underworld. Tell me, how much thought did you give it before staining that parchment with ink in the shape of your own name?"
"Just one."
The answer comes easy to him. He mulled over it for every single night since he was set up on that station, guarding the House from invisible threats. The words of Lord Hades ringing out in his ears ever since they've been spoken. How many regrets did he have? About what exactly?
Patroclus scoffs, almost fond. Almost. It reaches into the territory of frustration, touching upon sad, before settling on choked. Achilles thinks he hears the other whisper a curse directed at him, but before he could focus on it-
"Was I the one thought?" Monotony in his voice is not the serenity Achilles came to associate it with. Right now, he'd compare it to the tone of a disappointed parent.
"Who else-?"
"Was it me you wished to appeal to? Or perhaps your own guilty conscious? The one you carry around like a terminal disease." He's not known Patroclus' venom being turned towards him. He's also not known the man being wrong about him.
He wants to move. Patroclus holds him close, not restricting in entirety, but not allowing him to walk away either. Achilles can only hide his face in his beloved's black hair, taking in the feeling of it like starved.
"I wanted both," he murmurs, quiet like he'll shatter whatever composure he still has left if he dares say it any louder. "I wanted to apologise to you, to offer you reprieve after everything that has happened. You deserve this paradise way more than I ever could. Whatever titles they gave me..."
"Were more worth to you than our lives," Patroclus interrupts, purposefully sharp.
"Pat..." He tries again, the letters foreign to his mouth after so long. He hates it, wishing so desperately to get rid of this clawing, tearing feeling that's seeming to spread throughout his body.
He just smiles against Achilles' neck, although Achilles can't tell what it means. "I spent countless days or nights in my little glade, whispering your name. It was odd... awaiting a response. Knowing there wouldn't be one. I don't think I ever heard one in my dreams either."
"Pat-"
"The stranger says your name with such pride. I was almost envious of him for having such a free reign over it." He pulls them down until they are both sitting on the soft grass of Elysium. Patroculs pulls away, hesitant at first, but upon seeing Achilles remaining still, he creates a small distance between them. Going to lean over the edge to stare at the river Lethe.
Achilles remains silent, taking in the appearance of the other. Patroclus seems to have been made to shine, which feels contradictory next to his dark complexion, but the colours... the colours surrounding him would lead Achilles to believe he was meant to walk amongst the Gods. Not amongst the so-called "warriors".
The glow that his brown eyes carry, the twinkle in them despite all of it, the way the blues and greens of Elysium cling to his skin. Achilles could get lost in it.
"The lad is merely enthusiastic and eager to help. Ever since he changed the terms of my contract... mayhaps he enjoys the emotions he provokes." Patroclus slightly raises an eyebrow at the comment, a small grin pulling at his lips.
"If you believe he carries that much intention behind his tone, perhaps you ought to spend more time around him."
It's Achilles' turn to scoff now, quiet and with a genuine laugh. "I raised him. I would know."
"So the afterlife brought out the fatherly side of you, did it? Or was it just the absence of me?" Whether it was a sincere comment, or teasing, Achilles couldn't tell. He couldn't decide how he felt about that relevation.
"Patroclus-"
"Finally."
The man turned to look, their eyes finally meeting. The smile he carries is bittersweet, but real nonetheless. He inches his hand closer, grabbing Achilles' fingers and intertwining them with his own.
"You may be the only one who calls me by a nickname yet... You've no idea how many days or nights I've longed to hear my name said in your voice."
Achilles laughs, tears springing to his eyes before he can stop them. He tugs his beloved closer using their connected hands, Patroclus smiles softly at him; bittersweet, almost like he's completely made of that word.
They don't talk much past that, Achilles whispering his name like a prayer.
Maybe it is.