Chapter Text
Menelaos couldn’t process the words to the music he was listening to anymore. His hair was plastered to his face, sweat dripping down his forehead. It was late at night, around midnight he assumed. From what he could through the kitchen window, it was pitch black. His eyes were blurry and his head spun like the Earth itself shook, and his legs wobbled as if he were standing on a moving boat.
“Getting a hangover at 12am is better than 12pm,” he thought to himself, opening another bottle of cheap beer.
Buzz.
Somebody texted him. Opening his phone and placing it right in front of his eyes, he checked the notification. It was Odysseus. He didn’t even bother to actually read it because all he could see was her blonde hair and bright eyes. She was his light, his purpose. And he was deemed unworthy to be with her. Hot tears streamed down his face, his vision blurred yet again. Turning his head, Menelaos saw his older brother sit down next to him. Agamemnon was much more quiet than usual. His brows were furrowed, jaw tightened, and shoulders tense. He had a slight frown but when he met his eyes with Menelaos, he forced a smile.
Putting his hands on his younger brother’s shoulder, Agamemnon asked, “Are you hungry? I’ll go order some food if you want.”
Menelaos avoided his eyes and nodded. It had been a long time family tradition between the two Atreidae and their younger sister, Anaxiba. Whenever their father had gotten into an argument with their mother or uncle Thyestes, Agamemnon would bring his little siblings to an eatery. While their family was well off, a teenager and two children aren’t exactly choosers. They usually settled for some fast food or a food stand. And so, the three of them would eat their worries away, cracking jokes and recounting embarrassing tales. It became a family tradition of sorts. Agamemnon never knew how to describe that time of his life. On one hand, it was the time where he had to step up and take over as their guardian, despite just being in high school. He had to fully understand the situation his family was in. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. On the other hand, it could be called “the good old days” where he didn’t have to worry about his job, bills, and the stress of becoming a parent.
“I’ll get something easy on your stomach,” Agamemnon muttered, sighing as he observed his brother, “I think some soup will be good.”
Menelaos only hummed in response.
The two sat in silence as Agamemnon ordered food. He knew Menelaos wasn’t in a state where he cared about what he was eating, so he just picked which restaurant seemed closest.
“You can always come to me,” Agamemnon began.
“Only if you want to talk. I’m all ears.”
Menelaos grunted but then replied, “I know,” as he chugged his beer.
Agamemnon sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s drinking.
“That’s it, no more beer for you,” he said as he yanked the bottle from Menelaos’ hands.
“I wasn’t done with that!” Menelaos whined with his hands reaching forward to take his alcohol back.
“Nope, no more.”
Menelaos, defeated, brooded without the help of alcohol. He put his face in his hands and muttered a few words of complaint. Agamemnon poured a glass of water of Menelaos, who immediately chugged the entire class in one go.
Agamemnon looked at the floor. It was slightly dirty, trash was scattered around with a myriad of misplaced objects. To distract himself, he began to clean the kitchen. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Agamemnon couldn’t bear to witness his brother’s suffering. He would rather die than let anyone know it, but just the look of Menelaos’ distress caused him to spiral into worry. Menelaos’ behavior was similar to what he acted like during their parents’ divorce and the messy aftermath of it. Back then, he was so distraught and unprepared.
“But I’m different now. I can handle anything,” He thought.
He would always remember that day in excruciating detail. In the middle of the night, Menelaos had stormed into his room, tears streaming down his eyes, fists clenched. He had screamed “why didn’t you tell me?” and “Is this real?”. His voice had an unmistakable mix of confusion, sorrow, and anger. Agamemnon had a bad habit of babying his siblings. He recalled that he was firm on lying to Anaxiba, since she was way too young. However, he was conflicted on telling Menelaos. A middle schooler wasn’t prepared for all that information, but a burning curiosity could ruin everything (he was right). For a while, Agamemnon blamed it on himself. If he could go back, maybe he would have told him the truth about their family, but it was no use contemplating. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t solve a heartbreak. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Fishing it out of his pocket, his eyes widened with curiosity. For some reason, Odysseus Laertides was outside, in front of Menelaos’ house at this ungodly hour.
ODYSSEUS LAERTIDES
Odysseus: Can you open the door
You: What do you mean?
Odysseus: I can see you thru the window
You: Why are you here?
Odysseus: Menelaos isn't answering me
Odysseus: So i figured i would go to him
You: Okay.
You: He’s drunk, help me out here.
Agamemnon, despite what conventional wisdom may suggest, opened the door. Odysseus wasn’t lying this time, he really was there. He had a plain gray sweatshirt, skinny jeans, socks and slides, and a navy blue beanie. This was his usual getup, which directly contrasted Agamemnon, who was in a light blue polo tee, formal khaki pants, and brown loafers.
“Looking sharp as always, Atreides,” the shorter man commented. He had his usual sly smirk plastered on his face. Agamemnon despised that smirk sometimes. Looking down, he noticed Odysseus was carrying a shopping bag.
“What’s that for?”
Odysseus responded, “Not much—just some snacks and shit.”
Agamemnon nodded, any food was better than no food at all.
Now, Agamemnon was nowhere near as close to Odysseus as Menelaos was, the two were practically best friends. He appreciated Odysseus’ cunning and way with words, it came in handy quite often, but he couldn’t understand how Menelaos could stand his guts. Yes, the son of Laertes was intelligent and a man of many wiles, but his disrespect always annoyed him. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. As long as Menelaos had a supportive friend, Agamemnon was happy.
Snapping out and looking behind him, he could see that the two men were deep in conversation. Odysseus had his face resting on his hands, directly looking into Menelaos' eyes. He listened and nodded to every word the taller man said, occasionally whispering a word or two. Deciding to give them some space, Agamemnon went upstairs and crashed on his bed. He hadn’t gotten much sleep lately, so he figured it was fine for him to just rest his eyes. Odysseus was prepared after all. He could afford to have some rest. Before he could get any rest, he heard the crash.